Callie, this one’s for you. I was just watching you sleep and thanking God for what a beautiful, smart, healthy, safe little girl you are.
There are children who aren’t so safe. Tonight, August 9, 2006, there are children in Lebanon and Israel who are dying in the explosions and rubble of the war between their parents. There are parents in North Korea watching their children waste away for lack of anything to eat. There are parents in Africa watching their children grow weaker and weaker as the children succumb to illness and disease.
You’re too young to notice now but one of your goldfish died tonight. I knew he was going to die by the way he’s been acting lately: growing weaker, moving less, breathing more. You had no idea he was dying: dead or alive he was just “fishy” to you. I knew his condition was deteriorating, though, and could do nothing but wait for the inevitable.
I can’t imagine the turmoil and pain of a father watching his child waste away. It would take a while but at some point he’d realize that his child won’t get better. She doesn’t have enough strength left in her. The disease is too strong. He’d hover over her at night while she slept, hoping that she’d rally and the illness would recede, wishing her his own strength and begging God to lend just a little of His power to keep this little one from the pit. But he knows that isn’t going to happen. He’s going to lose her. Why?
Honey, you never have to worry about most of the diseases that those kids are dying from. When you were little you were given some shots — inoculations — that will stave off diseases for the rest of your life. You have clean food and water to prevent dysentery and when you get sick we have medical technology to keep you hydrated and nourished.
I cannot explain why those shots were available for you but not for other children your age, or why hydration kits and medical care aren’t available around the world. There are lots of reasons for this inequity — the economics of production and distribution; challenges with transportation and infrastructure; the availability and safety of medical workers in the poorest countries; the thousand crushing burdens of poverty — but it’s inconceivable that the entire globe is covered with parents and yet this vast network hasn’t taken care of all the children.
I lay here tonight and I’m so happy that you’re healthy and I hope nothing ever takes you away from me. But because you’ve been inoculated — because you’ve been spared — I’m going to ensure that I am a good neighbor to my fellow parents in Lebanon, in Israel, in North Korea, and in Africa. I’m going to do my part in the parents’ network to ensure their children are provided for.