The first thing that penetrated my sleep-fogged mind this morning was the announcer on the television set telling me that a ticket near the 50-yard-line of today's game would cost about $15,000.
FIFTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS??
FOR ONE TICKET--TO ONE GAME??
I was suddenly wide awake and filled with a mix of strong emotions--outrage, sadness, and a feeling of helpless frustration. I was yelling at the television set,
"DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY PEOPLE THAT COULD FEED?
HOW MANY BLANKETS FOR FREEZING REFUGEES?"
"They can't hear you. You know that, don't you?"
My husband, always the voice of reason. I know he was talking about the television, but it holds true for a much broader audience. They can't hear me--yet.
One of the reasons I started writing novels is to reach an audience that has little or no knowledge of the plight of refugees, how they live, or what desperate efforts they make just to have a touch of normalcy in their lives.
Refugees are just like us. They have families they care about, have hopes for their children to have a better life. They do what they can to survive and try to boost their children into a better world. Each family has a story; each story has moments of sadness and moments of triumph.
Yes, I understand that nobody ever said life was fair, but understanding and accepting are very different.
What can you do to make a difference?
- You can stay informed. Listen to what's happening in other parts of the world.
- Be compassionate. People are people regardless of the flag flying overhead.
- Remember the less fortunate, and give what you can.
|United Nations Relief and Works Agency|
|International Rescue Committee|