Every morning I kiss the two boys of mine goodbye and send them off to school. Rocco is thrilled to be finally going to big school with Max. It's incredible. Absolutely no tears, no clinginess, no problems at all. They just walk into school and go learn, every day. Papers, pencils, books, structured playtime, friends, wonderful teachers. How lucky is that?
One day back in November I sat in a cramped van in India driving through slums. A little girl, not much older than a baby and wearing a dirty pink dress, stood in the dirt playing with a box of matches. She kept striking match after match. It was the strangest sight - children just shouldn't be doing things like that. It's wrong. The bus rounded a corner and we never saw her again.
Kids in developing and war torn countries, roam the streets in packs. They still play. There's still laughter and games and fun. Just as traumatised as their parents, yet they wrestle and kick bottles. Kids are kids, wherever they are in the world.
Last week I was in my car waiting for the library to open and came across a link to a Unicef video on twitter, about the Syrian refugee children fleeing to Lebanon. I watched it on my handy communication device and got a sense of what it must be like for them. Even though my car was warm and I was holding a coffee.
It's beautifully filmed. They have gorgeous little voices.
Violence from the civil war in Syria has been escalating for two years. 40,000 people have died and 4 million Syrians now need aid. Sucks. If that happened in Australia, I hope people would care enough to help my boys. These kids. Over in Indian slums, in African refugee camps, saved from sex trafficking by Cate Bolt and living in a Foundation 18 orphanage.
All of these children, around the world? These are our childrens peers. We are all responsible for them.
::
For more info or to donate:
World Vision
Unicef
Foundation 18
One day back in November I sat in a cramped van in India driving through slums. A little girl, not much older than a baby and wearing a dirty pink dress, stood in the dirt playing with a box of matches. She kept striking match after match. It was the strangest sight - children just shouldn't be doing things like that. It's wrong. The bus rounded a corner and we never saw her again.
Kids in developing and war torn countries, roam the streets in packs. They still play. There's still laughter and games and fun. Just as traumatised as their parents, yet they wrestle and kick bottles. Kids are kids, wherever they are in the world.
Last week I was in my car waiting for the library to open and came across a link to a Unicef video on twitter, about the Syrian refugee children fleeing to Lebanon. I watched it on my handy communication device and got a sense of what it must be like for them. Even though my car was warm and I was holding a coffee.
It's beautifully filmed. They have gorgeous little voices.
Violence from the civil war in Syria has been escalating for two years. 40,000 people have died and 4 million Syrians now need aid. Sucks. If that happened in Australia, I hope people would care enough to help my boys. These kids. Over in Indian slums, in African refugee camps, saved from sex trafficking by Cate Bolt and living in a Foundation 18 orphanage.
All of these children, around the world? These are our childrens peers. We are all responsible for them.
::
For more info or to donate:
World Vision
Unicef
Foundation 18
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