I’m so sorry. I’m sitting here in comfort watching your people live through an invasion by a tyrant. I know that your mothers are suffering incomprehensible losses right now. Many of your fathers are fighting against real evil. Your children are fleeing the only homes they’ve ever known with little more than the clothes on their backs. All of your people are groaning.
I hope you know that I am groaning for you, too. I know that I can’t do much. Your pain is half a world away from me and I am someone of little influence. However, I am raising my kids to love you. They will know the beauty of your yellow wheat fields against the bright blue sky. When we hear “Carol of the Bells” at Christmastime, we’ll remember your beautiful contributions to the world. Your name will not be far from our lips in prayer. Your pain is not going unnoticed by us, and neither is your joy. My little people may never set foot in your country, but they WILL know who you are. I promise.
An American Mom