
I am a mother to a Chechen boy. When the announcement came early Friday morning that the two suspected Boston Terrorists were Chechen, I wept. But I wasn't at all surprised. In fact, it all made sense in a heart-breaking, tragic way.
I've lived with the "genetic stubbornness of a Chechen child." I've breathed in his rebellious spirit that was formed by generations of violence and resistance.
Could we have been so naive to think that so many atrocities, although conducted 1,000's of miles away, would never reach us, would never touch our lives?
I've been listening to ChucK Swindoll's series on Biblical Parenting. In one segment, he touches on this idea of "sins of the fathers." He describes how patters of behavior, if not broken, reoccur down into third and fourth generations.
This week, a conflict that has gone on for hundreds of years "spilled down" to hundreds of innocents.
Except for the fact that my son is only 13, I suspected that either one of the bombers could have been him (he doesn't have any siblings because the Russians killed all the men in his family save for one uncle).
Images of wolves will haunt me...I see the rabid confusion of the injured animal (the wolf is the symbol of the Chechen resistance), their collective barks and cries in the night, and the mother wolf protecting her cubs.
A girlfriend sent a one-word text Friday morning. It said, "CHECHEN."
Chechen.