I cannot imagine.
I can’t imagine sending my daughter to school, just like any other day, and later learning that something horrific had happened. I can’t imagine hearing that she – and all of her classmates – had been abducted, “guilty” of nothing other than going to school. Getting an education. Dreaming that they could learn and grow up to do something in this world. Daring to believe God’s promises when He says He made them for a purpose.
I can’t imagine it here, in my rural Georgia neighborhood, certainly. I can’t even imagine it in the dusty villages of Belize, where I have so many heart daughters. I can’t imagine it anywhere, because it is so contrary to the world I live in.
But it has happened, and where mothers never imagined it before, they are now living it. Their daughters are gone.
I haven’t seen the news reports, because honestly, we don’t watch the news in our house. But I have seen the outcry on the internet, my Facebook feed exploding with articles and pictures about the tragedy. And friends, I feel so helpless. I have to confess that when I heard about it, my gut reaction was horror, but I too quickly put the whole thing out of my mind. I didn’t know what I could do. I didn’t know how to process it. I didn’t even know what to think.
And from here, in my quiet Georgia hometown, there isn’t a whole lot I can do. But I have been convicted of this: I can pray.
This picture showed up in my news feed this morning, and it made the whole thing more real. Somehow, numbers are no longer impressive to my statistic-saturated mind. Names, though? They cut me to the core. Names are real. Names are personal. Names….well, they represent real people. Real girls who are who-knows-where, enduring who-knows-what at the hands of these criminals. Real girls whose mamas are heartbroken and scared for their babies. Real girls. Like my daughter.
And so I am praying. I am raising up each child, name by name, because I believe that my God sees each one of them…..has His eyes on each one as I say their names……and I believe that He weeps for their rescue.
This is not about numbers. It is not about militant groups or government intervention. It is about people. People created by God, whose lives have purpose and meaning. People who are precious to their Heavenly Father. People not so unlike us, and who desperately need our prayers. I can’t do much, but I can do that.