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What Isis is doing to nine year old girls

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In the two hours that I sit with these 4 women and their children, Mawra only whispers one sentence: “ISIS comes into our house and I see them, right in our house, I see them shoot my father — and every single one of my three brothers.” Marwa eyes haunt… anguished. She covers them with her hands. But we’re not about to cover up their stories with trite and flimsy distractions, we won’t act like what’s happening with ISIS isn’t the story of our times, isn’t the story that defies geography, isn’t the story that threatens the cradle of civilization. How do you just sit on the floor of a shipping container and just let these women carry this kind of terror alone — how do you turn away and go back to your neat little life of wheaties and news reels and how does the church not stand up and howl?