What if?

Watching my grandchildren is mostly a joyful experience.  But every day, the thought comes at least once.  What if we lived there?  What if we lived where persecution because of religion or ethnicity is brutally exercised?   What if I lost my husband and sons to execution, my daughters and granddaughter to slavery?
I sometimes look at Emmy and think of the reports of even tiny little girls being subjected to horrific abuse.  I look at my grandsons and think of the stories of little boys, pressed into service as killers, forced to watch and participate in horrible acts of violence.
I think of the adults and children who have escaped, and wonder what their life was  like before the world went crazy.  How much like our lives were theirs?  Were there small warning signs, or even big ones?  Did they ignore them, thinking it can't happen here?  Or, was it like a bolt out of the blue and did death begin to walk among them before they had a chance to defend themselves?
I think then of how sad it is that while we are distracted by silly non controversies started by the new form of gossip we call social media, people half a world away are pleading for help.  There is little love for truth or mercy in the virtual world, little room for common sense or clarity.  It has changed the way we process information to the point where it seems sometimes that critical thinking is dead.
The virtual world is corrupting us, making us harder, more judgmental, and oddly enabling us to ignore atrocities as we get caught up in the minutia of other people's opinions.
I do wonder what they think of us, but I fear what we have become.