Gulsoma

a girl in an arranged marriage at age 4 because her father died and her new step-father didn't want her. She went to live as the property of her husband's family for 7-8 years. She was not just enslaved, but treated with a cruelty that would make me insane to even consider inflicting it on another human being, let alone a child. At one point, she was beaten so severely she became unconscious, bones broken. Her father-in-law revived her by pouring scalding water all over her. She now carries a bald spot from the burn, and multiple scars from the beatings, although her family by marriage had the good sense to leave her face beautiful, and hid their abuse by laying it on her back and legs. One night, she was used as the "table" on which food was cut, scarring her back, as it was used for a cutting board. Who even has a mind that can imagine such cruelty? Thank God she is now, at age 12, in an orphanage, rescued from these living conditions. As for me, I live half-way around the world from Afghan society, and light-years away from such "family" interactions. I have a son who is ten. He will hear of her story. He will be reminded how much he has to appreciate. We both owe that much to the children like her. We actually owe much more. It takes me back to a similar article I read about young boys in Africa being forced into child-armies. Trained and forced to kill enemies when they are only age 12, maybe 10, maybe even 9. Some of them, like Gulsoma, were lucky enough to have been rescued and taken into orphanages. What is it like to resume a life filled with things like playing soccer, wearing a baseball cap instead of a helmet, carrying a toy instead of a weapon, after such an experience? How will these children ever remember...or even learn for the first time...the most basic tenets of justice?
In fact, how sobering it is for me to reconsider the things that I myself have complained were unjust in my own life over the last 24 hours, or the last 24 years. I'm struck dumb. Not one complaint actually deserved verbalizing...not as I see it now. Dear God, I pray such things end...everywhere...forever. You say you give the fatherless compassion. You also say we are your hands and your feet. Show us what you want to do through us. I feel silly about some of my priorities right now.