My heart was so heavy last night as my news feed filled with story after story of horror against the most vulnerable. Terrorists surrounding an Iraq village, demanding that families convert or die. Thousands trapped on a barren mountain without food or water, followed by pictures of parents placing limp, already dead children in a dusty pile.
I could hardly fathom the picture of a hardened terrorist sporting a huge grin and an arm slung around his new little 7-year-old bride, whose tear-strewn face showed unmitigated fear as she wrung chubby fingers. Even locally, there was news of the heartless stabbing of a 6-year-old boy at the hands of his grandmother.