Tonight was one of those nights that you can't describe but you absolutely adore. Not that a lot happened, but more that nothing happened. I came home to two great danes (I'm dog sitting, so have the house to myself) and popped in the Lion King. A night of relaxation with no distractions or plans.
Lion King has always been my favorite Disney movie, and I was excited to be reminded of the inspiring feeling I get after watching it. But this time around I got something a little different from the movie. It hit me on the part where most avid Lion King watchers tend to tear up-when Simba watches his father Mufassa get killed from a stampede. Yet what was put on my heart this time was a little different than when I was younger.
My heart sunk at the thought of a child having to see his father die. As Simba's eyes began to fill with tears, I thought of the thousands of children in Haiti who watched their parents breath their last breath under a pile of rubble. I thought about the children in Asia who roam the streets with a deadened stature and glazed eyes, because rather than playing and laughing, they are forced to do whatever it takes to bring home money, even if it means selling their own bodies.
These children are living without hope. They are innocent and beautiful, yet to survive to the next day is their only ambition. It's such a sorrowful ambition. And then what happens when the day comes when they don't get the next day? Do they die without ever experiencing hope or the slightest bit of happiness? Surely this doesn't happen. And it even hurts as I write this, but I believe it does. We MUST bring hope! Innocent lives depend on it. We have to answer this call because no child deserves to die without hope. We MUST give them a chance. A chance for true purpose and true love. It's time. Please.
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