What Becomes of Our Children

We bring babies into this world with trembling hope.
We look into their tiny faces and believe—
believe that love will be enough.
We want to give them safety, kindness, a future.
We raise them with sleepless nights, quiet prayers, and everything we have.
Most of us try. Most of us ache to get it right.

But even before they are born, there is a question:
When two people come together, is it for joy, for comfort, for love—
or is it to create life?
Does the reason matter?
Does the intention shape the soul that arrives?

Some children are born from longing.
Some from surprise.
Some from deep love.
Some from broken places.
And yet, each one is a miracle.
Each one deserves a chance.

Once a baby enters the world, the story begins—
but not every parent has the same tools.
Some are able to nurture, to guide, to be present.
Others are pulled into survival—working long hours,
barely able to breathe, let alone cradle.
And yet, both paths can lead to the same place.
A child can rise or fall, no matter how much love was given,
no matter how much was withheld.

So why is it that some grow into kind, strong people—
and others lose their way?
Why do some stay close to their parents,
while others drift far, even when love was always there?

I see this in my own family.
I see it in many others.
We give time, energy, everything we have—
but the results are never the same.

Can we teach our children to stand on their own,
but still ask for help when they need it?
Can we show them how to choose the right people to learn from?
Because all of us—every single one—needs guidance.
But how do we know who to trust?

And then there is the question I cannot shake:
How could a person take another life?
I find it impossible to understand.
I will not accept it.
I do not understand how one human can kill another.
And I am afraid—deeply afraid—that it will never stop.
This is the part of humanity I cannot make peace with.
It breaks something inside me.

If you’re reading this and you have an answer,
please share it.
Not just with me, but with the world.
Because these questions belong to all of us.
We would be grateful to hear it.

I carry this worry in my heart.
Not just for my own children,
but for all children.
Even the ones I’ll never meet.

It hurts to see people take advantage of others,
to see selfishness win.
And it hurts even more when good people stay silent,
afraid to speak their truth.

What becomes of our children?
What becomes of the world they help shape?
I don’t know.
But I still believe in asking.
I still believe in trying.
I still believe in love.