Hugs

The fact minces my mind; I can barely bear it: Right now, legions of children are being abused. I yearn to write of villages and vistas and never quit. But the plight of the children cannot be diffused. The words curdle the blood, but must be heard: Raped, beaten, mutilated, starved—left for dead. What crimes upon them have been conferred? Why must innocence crush young lives with dread? There is a hellish hole reserved for their thugs. Surely God has prepared the appropriate place. Meanwhile, this very moment, grant them hugs: Love, food, service—and the Savior’s grace.