I write graphic violence without trepidation, relying on my imagination to make it seem real. In this case, it was real and I can't escape the notion that I could have done something to help. Actually, I couldn't do a thing and neither could anyone else, but I shudder when I recall the depths of depravity some will stoop to to gain their way.
I can't tell the story here. I am writing it now and it will come out some day soon, hopefully. When it does, I can only pray that my words will somehow become part of a movement to eliminate this kind of cruelty to abandoned children.
The recent case of a kidnapped child in KC brings it all into sharp focus. Somebody there knows what happened to baby Lisa, but they're not telling. Did they kill her and dispose of her body? Did they take her and bargain for drugs or money? Did some deranged mother take the girl to raise her as her own? It has happened before.
If you haven't figured it out yet, this is a cry from the wilderness for all the abused and neglected children in the world. Many, perhaps most of us, rail against the barbaric practice of abortion, but what do we say after the child has been born? I look upon each child as a gift from God, a gift and a responsibility to care for that little one until he/she grows into an adult.
Now we're getting into another category and I don't want to go there. Suffice it to say, I set a high bar for my own family and expect others to do the same for theirs. I'll close with a rejoinder from one of my favorite college professors: Aim high and you can't help raising your expectations. Aim low and you're bound to score a bullseye, but what has it gained you?
Please join me in a solemn moment of contemplation.