Doing Her Part for Peace

I am a reasonably protective mother.  (Don, and perhaps others, would argue that I'm overly so, but this is my blog, and I'm going with "reasonably.")  I try to shield Sarah from violence depicted in the media.  She watches only PBS shows, and the occasional football game with her father, during which he is instructed to change the channel when inappropriate commercials come on.

A few months ago, I noticed that almost every day there was a graphic picture of the turmoil in Syria printed on page 3 of our local newspaper.  I became vigilant, quickly turning the page if Sarah was nearby, even though she didn't seem to show much interest in what I was reading.

One day, however, I slipped up, and a photo caught her eye.  "Wait a minute," she said, as I tried to flip the page.  She insisted on studying the image, despite my efforts to distract and redirect her.  It showed a woman lying in a hospital bed, her legs amputated below the knees.  Sarah asked what happened to the woman.  I told her that there are places in the world where people can't agree how to do things and that sometimes they fight.  When people fight, sometimes other people get hurt.

She seemed to think that the woman was a girl and kept asking, "But where's her mom?"  I explained that the woman was probably my age, and that she didn't need her mom to take care of her anymore, that the doctors were tending to her.  I told her that it was very sad but tried to reassure her that the fighting was happening far away from us, in a country called Syria.

A few days later, Sarah asked to see the picture again.  I told her it was gone, that the newspaper was in the recycling, or perhaps had been burned in the wood stove.  She was obviously still trying to understand how something so awful could happen.

This morning, as she headed out to catch the bus, Sarah stopped and picked up two pieces of ice from the sidewalk.  They were about 2" square and flat.  She handed them to me and said, "These are going to help the people in...what's the name of that state where they're fighting again?"  I said, "You mean country...Syria?"  "Yeah, country.  They're going to help the people in Syria stop fighting.  You hold onto them, and when I get on the bus, throw them on the ground.  That will help the people in Syria stop fighting."

As the bus pulled away, I did as instructed.  I watched the ice shatter as it struck the frozen earth and thought about how the world will chip away at my little girl's innocence.  I wish it were avoidable, but it's not. And it's my job to help her process the things she learns and decide how to respond.  This evening, I suggested she give some of her "sharing" money (from her allowance) to UNICEF to help the kids in Syria, and she agreed.  She has a big heart and a strong mind, and I trust they will serve her, and the world, well.