Facing War
whose son Danny was in Iraq with us, written just after Sept 11th.
Voices US, in Voices UK newsletter no 19, Sept 2001
As the Voices US fast in New York began my son, Danny, was in Iraq with a delegation from Voices in the Wilderness.
Three things in particular stand out in my mind as this 40 day vigil ends. The first was the day that I brought my grandson to the babysitter who said to me, "We just bombed Iraq." The terror that was in my heart until I found out that my son was safe will remain forever engraved on my heart.
Every time I think of it, I picture an Iraqi mother whenever a plane flies overhead. How could we cause such suffering to so many people for so long?
The second involved a woman I met while leafletting. She told me to keep up the good work, that we would win. I expressed my doubt by saying, "I don't know. They're so big and we're so small." "Yes," she said, "but drop by drop you'll fill the bucket." I found that very encouraging.
The third event has been the vigil of the past two days. Instead of standing outside the UN, I have kept vigil with a friend whose son, a fireman, is missing in the rubble of the World Trade Center. But as I sit with her, in my mid I sit with every mother in Iraq and Afghanistan who fears the revenge this nation will exact.
My heart cries out for reconciliation, not revenge, for love and not hatred, for an end to mothers mourning their dead children. When will it ever end?
As the Voices US fast in New York began my son, Danny, was in Iraq with a delegation from Voices in the Wilderness.
Three things in particular stand out in my mind as this 40 day vigil ends. The first was the day that I brought my grandson to the babysitter who said to me, "We just bombed Iraq." The terror that was in my heart until I found out that my son was safe will remain forever engraved on my heart.
Every time I think of it, I picture an Iraqi mother whenever a plane flies overhead. How could we cause such suffering to so many people for so long?
The second involved a woman I met while leafletting. She told me to keep up the good work, that we would win. I expressed my doubt by saying, "I don't know. They're so big and we're so small." "Yes," she said, "but drop by drop you'll fill the bucket." I found that very encouraging.
The third event has been the vigil of the past two days. Instead of standing outside the UN, I have kept vigil with a friend whose son, a fireman, is missing in the rubble of the World Trade Center. But as I sit with her, in my mid I sit with every mother in Iraq and Afghanistan who fears the revenge this nation will exact.
My heart cries out for reconciliation, not revenge, for love and not hatred, for an end to mothers mourning their dead children. When will it ever end?