#Aleppo

Dear Joi,

When you read this, you will remember the time you laugh at yourself because you actually thought 2016 couldn't get lower.

You will remember the pain when you found out through social media what's happening in Aleppo, Syria. You found it very disturbing how they are being bombed to death, literally. You felt an unexplainable distress when you read the tweets of Syrians giving out their final messages of feeling trapped, feeling defeated and without option and their feelings of expecting death.

You will remember feeling angry at yourself for being so happy that it's almost Christmas, yet on the other side of the world, you hear their cries.

You will remember the heat around your eyes before it welled and finally spilled tears. You grabbed for your handkerchief, desperately wiping your tears away, covering your mouth so it will not make any sound as you sob... in the middle of your office.

You will remember the pain chest and in your stomach as you cry out, trying to release all the negative emotions that consumes you. You felt that you had to, because you will explode. It was hard for you because you tried to let it all out in silent sobs and quiet wailings. It took a lot of effort than you thought.

That time, in your carrel, you learned something about war and violence: the worst feeling was not pity. It was helplessness. Here are all the people desperately wanting to live. Here I am, miles away, wanting to make it stop, but I couldn't. I am limited. I am just another concerned citizen. Well, concerned and agonized sister of the victims.

As childish at it seems, you caught yourself wishing a childhood dream that I am a mutant, a goddess, a heroine from an anime series; anything that will give you power to do impossible things, anything that will make you do something for them. You never felt that desperate before.

You remember, catching yourself from your childhood wishes to question God. You remember asking him why? when will it stop? and why hasn't he done anything to stop it. You question your beliefs a little, then you felt bliss.

You remember the one thing they asked in their tweets: prayer. So you began to pray: God, I dont understand you. it's hard for me to trust you, but will all my will, I have faith in you. I have one cryout, please Lord, heal their land. Let this Christmas be about them, my Lord. I forgo my Christmas wishes. Please help them. Please...

"Be still."
.
..
...
..
.
"and know I am God."

You weren't perfectly still. But at least, you learned your place. You were still uneasy, but at least, now, you know your task.

You wipe your tears one more time. Then you flipped open your computer and began typing.