Lost Daughters, Lost Fathers

I see a father and his young daughter enjoying each other's company, eating a simple meal of Subway sandwiches. There's something so beautiful, so precious, so tender about the scene that makes me want to weep. Because I think of my own experiences as my daddy's little girl, the memories of moments spent with my dad, not unlike this young girl I'm seeing right now. And I weep when I think of all the lost and abandoned daughters out there who do not have a father who can take them out on dates, who can hug them with his strong arms, who can assure them with his firm voice, who can kiss them with all his love. I weep when I wonder about all these precious ones who will never experience what I have known simply because of the country and circumstance they've been born in.

I weep when I think of all the fathers who are just as equally lost and abandoned, separated from their families, torn from the clutches of their sons and daughters and wives because of war or persecution or poverty or addictions. I weep when I think of every lost father's story, when I weigh in my heart all the years he has lost, all that he is still losing.

I weep within me and I wonder how I could help, how I could love and care in a way that could provide some human solace to at least one individual's pain.

~ j a n i e ll e

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