Compassion.

"to suffer together"



It's more than just empathy; you're whole spirit groans under the weight of anothers' pain and suffering, until you are moved to Action.   Your voice cries out, added to theirs, until enough voices raised in song, like thorn-birds pierced upon the branch, warbling our anguished tune in the dying light.

In a dying, groaning world.

Do you hear the people sing?
The broken song of the forgotten.   The left behind.   The unwanted. 

Compassion is not growing too comfortable in our world of privilege.
It's not just taking care of the weeds in our own garden;  it's releasing good seeds of kindness into the wind, so that they may take root and bloom in other places.

Work less on changing peoples minds' - rather work on changing Hearts.

For me, Compassion is not letting the voices of the weak, grow dim.    It is using the power of our voice to do something more.
It's never, ever forgetting the blessings of Freedom already fought and won for us, and even more:  remembering that many still are fighting that battle.  Every. Day.

Why take on anothers' pain and suffering?
Why immerse yourself in a world that might be so foreign, and yes - even distasteful, than your own?

Compassion is a VERB.
And sometimes to be strong; you first must know what it is to be weak.


Because the strong man who has known power all his life, may lose respect for that power, but a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows... compassion.
- Dr. Abraham Erskine, Captain America: The First Avenger

Yeah, don't argue with me about the relevancy of Super Heroes in a modern world.
I'll fight ya.

You know, I try to talk to people about the state of this world we  live in.   Loving, Godly, kind people with hearts full of love for this world; and yet -- they shush me.    They don't want to hear about how bad this world has become.    They don't want to hear about children in cages sold for sex.   Sold by their own parents in such miserable poverty they saw no other way.   Sold to be used for the desires of many.   They don't want to talk about that shit.

And how could I blame them?
Because the very fact that a place such as the Street of Cages exists in this world, demonstrates OUR COMPLETE FAILURE. 

How dare we call ourselves a kind people.  A civilized race.   How dare we, when such a place continues to exist.   Children.  Sold.   Used.   Oh how we have mastered the art of looking away.

But such things are not the topics of discussion in our coffee chats and cocktail parties.   It's just.... awful and depressing.

And the darkness grows.
The evil marches and stretches it's talons across the forgotten battlefields of this world. 

We.Suffer.Together.

Feel the Pain.  Really take it all in.   Suffer until your heart threatens to burst and bleed.
To do this,  you must SEE them; and to do that, you must first LISTEN.

Everyone has a story, and hers burst forth like wild little rays of light.   They shot through the black evil of this world, and cut straight to my heart.

her story shatters me
and instinct causes me to turn
squeeze my eyes shut tight
as though it could block the pain she unleashes
anymore than she could block the pain of her own dark world
I don’t want to hear, but there’s no escaping those eyes.
see me, hear me…. let me tell
for every word I release from my wounds
is like a wild little ray of light
that somehow managed to escape the darkness
and if I can release enough … maybe…
just maybe, I can push back this darkness that threatens to swallow me.
and maybe, just maybe…
if there are enough wild little rays
shining in unison 
they might make a spark.
a glorious burst of colour like a sunrise
new,  every morning
and maybe… just maybe
when mourning turns to light
I might find there Hope.
and carry on
one more day
And so, though my own tears blur her face
and my shoulders hunch close to my ears
mirroring her own small, huddled frame
but her voice speaks clear; truth
and I listen….

…. she was 8 years old when they took her to the Cages.


Oh, it hurt to hear.  To see.
Little broken bodies, hearts and crushed spirits.
Oh God -- the sparrow has fallen.  Who will care for it?

I was so moved and my heart cried out:  I will!
And acted.


Can one person, one small act change the world?
Probably not.

The enemy is strong and full of Will, and he marches ever onward, while we turn our sights onto shinier, more temporary things.

But thousands of us, all doing something?

Folks - that's an army.
And you don't win wars by doing nothing, or even by writing powerful words.

You win wars with soldiers.
(yes, Captain America also taught me that.)

Do you have the heart:  to hear, to see, and of courage to fight?

Add your voice.
And then; stand your post and be ever diligent.
It's not simply seeing what needs doing:  It's DOING IT.



If you want to know more about the Street of Cages and how you can help fight this atrocity of our world, I encourage you to read The Blue Notebook.   It's a hard story.  You will not like it.  It will hurt.   But, if you have the heart and courage to hear, you will be making a difference.   Proceeds do go towards helping these abused children.

If you are interested in sponsoring a girl who lives in areas deemed to be the most threatening, please visit Because I Am A Girl.    It's so amazing!!   My girls love writing letters to the little girl we sponsor in El Salvador.  She is Precious!!   If you want to teach your children Compassion, this is a great way to LIVE it.  

About The Author
Leslie Botchar, aka "RoryBore", is a SAHM enjoying life one day - and one cup of coffee - at at time.
She has had several articles published in The Huffington Post, and hopes to one day marry her skills as Word Wrangler and Photo Ninja. Leslie spills it all on her blog Time Out For Mom, and invites you to join her for some Mom "Me" Time.
Connect with her: Twitter, Facebook, or Instagram.