I originally posted this a year ago, but today it seems more relevant than ever. Friends, we must speak up on behalf of those who have no voice!

Maggie Rowe

With Christmas just past, I’ve been thinking about that family a lot.

We are not afraidTHAT family…you know the ones. The impoverished teenage mom, her much-older husband, and the child (definitely not his) they covenanted to raise together. They were scraping by in their home country, just barely, when the news came.

It wasn’t glad tidings of great joy this time. It was shocking, horrific, the kind that makes you wake up the next morning with sweat glazing your brow despite the arid Middle Eastern climate.

Except there was no next morning. The news arrived wrapped in darkness, whispered into the ears of a working-class man. There was no mistaking the message.

Get up. Take the child. Get out. Go. NOW.

To stay would mean certain death – if not for the parents, then certainly for the child.

So they took what little they could carry, maybe a bit of gold to…

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