I first read about this story in a book on the Khans.  Ogedei was supposed to be Genghis’ favorite son.  If you read his bio on Wikipedia he sounds like a reasonably interesting alcoholic/benevolent dictator.  Until you get to the elliptical part about the little girls. (who were victims of “war violence…)

The story goes like this: Ogedei wants to humiliate a tribe so he rounds up 4000 girls from 7 to 15 years old and their male relatives.  Then he subjects all the girls to war violence for the rest of the day (in front of their brothers and fathers)

Then he sells the ones who survive off as concubines and prostitutes.

War violence.  Hell of a euphemism.

These stories haunt me, and just as with the book I feel an obsessive need to apologize for reminding people of them.  Blame George Santayana for this. 

And sometimes when the darkness encroaches my story and stories worse than mine I feel compelled to speak out loud the foundational Christian idea that Jesus took all the darkness all the pain for these little girls, for their families, for my little girls, for my little family.

How could He?  How hopeless I would be without Him.