I don't know you, but you are my sibling. I haven't really taken the time to acquaint myself with your affliction...it's probably ugly and horrible and if I really knew what was happening, I might have to take action. And I don't want to take action. I want to sit in my pretty little house and play with my pretty little treasures and never, ever, ever have to hear about the agony of your life. I would rather continue paying $4 for a coffee, buying sweatshop-made Christmas lights at Walmart, and bemoaning my pathetic little existence because I don't live in a bigger house that would hold more of my stuff that I need. If I knew you, I might have to hear about the fact that you don't have a Bible to read, and since I just bought a new one (it was only $20 and it's this really pretty pink scrolly covered pink faux leather cutie- and I don't have an ESV; I have NASB, NIV, NKJV, KJV, Interlinear Greek..but not ESV) I might get to feeling really bad. If you told me that we share a faith, but you trust in God as Savior for fear of death...well, that would just really suck for me to have to hear that. So, please don't remind me that your country has aborted over 30 million baby girls, that you can't freely practice serving Jesus or even dare speak his name. Don't tell me about the raids, the torture, the persecution that you face every day because I would just feel yucky and it would make me sad and I would have to take prozac or paxil until I could feel better again. Actually, I would have to take my kids to Coldstone, spend $20 on three ice creams and then worry about my body for several weeks and then go to church with all my friends at a government facility that we rent and ask God to forgive me for my preoccupation with my own personage instead of His. So, let's just all pretend that we're siblings, sharing in everything with nothing bad ever happening, except maybe having to listen to Madeleine's never-ending kids praise music.