My Broken Heart

My heart is broken and continues to break.

I drink my four dollar coffee as I research stories of repeated injustice.

Injustice that happens with the amount of money I paid for my coffee, 

and the price of a child's 

purity, 

innocence, 

hopes and dreams.

Injustice that makes me cringe.

Makes me shiver.

Makes me cry.

Injustice that gives me nightmares.

I thank God that is all I am scared of for my sake...nightmares.

I pray to God for those who wish it was only a nightmare.

For those who cry until there are no tears left.

For those who have to repeat their own name over and over again in hope that they will never forget their name because they have been stripped of their identity, 

and are now known by a number.

Those who undergo abuse sexually, physically, mentally.

Those who were kidnapped, tricked, or sold.

Those who dream of seeing and being with their families again.

Who dream of harvesting their garden and cooking their family what little food they have inside of a mud hut with a leaky tin roof (if they are blessed enough to afford a tin roof).

A bit different from the "American dream" isn't it?

My heart is broken for many reasons.

For what theses girls and boys are being put through.

For how unloved and unwanted they must feel.

How alone they must feel.

How scared and how worthless they must feel.

The pain they go through.

The trauma they go through.

My heart is broken for how selfish I am.

My heart is broken as I cry out to God for change in my life.

It is broken as I ask God to help rearrange the loves in my life.

The priorities in my life.

The things I spend time, money, and energy on.

My heart is broken as I drink my four dollar coffee, 

and it continues to break.