[[[ Just after midnight, when many of her neighbors were enjoying their sleep, Priscilla Kahang’u was wide awake, wondering whether her 2-year-old daughter, Comfort Shindani, would have a chance to see the sun that morning.
By 8:00 a.m., Comfort’s health had deteriorated even further. “My daughter was very ill and I was wondering…what to do,” says Priscilla, 20. “I was afraid my child was going to die…she was experiencing shortness of breath, constant coughs, and failure to breastfeed.”
-an article from World Vision ]]]
i forget how powerful stories can be. i've been reminded of the poor at times, but i haven't truly put myself in their shoes much lately. it's a whole new level when i imagine their situation as if it were my own, as if that baby was my own. she's my sister. how do i not acknowledge that? i often get through my day indulging in my own comfort. it's terrible. i think i'm drunk. need to rehab.
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