Mother's Day Reflection: It's Complicated.

I am reviving my long-dormant blog to post this brief commentary that I gave at church this morning in honor of Mother's Day. Lots of shout-outs in here to some very special women (not identified by name, but you know who you are).

*** Good morning, and Happy Mother’s Day. It’s such an honor to have this opportunity to talk to you about what this day means to me. I’ve had a great day so far: my husband made me breakfast, and my children made me cards. We sent cards to my mom and my mother-in-law, who are both wonderfully loving and caring, and have always set a fine example for me of all that a mother should be. So this morning, my heart is full. Motherhood has been a tremendous, life-changing blessing for me.

And yet, Mother’s Day is not quite that simple. For many of us, this day evokes complicated feelings. I am also thinking of a friend whose beloved mother is battling cancer, and of another who struggled with infertility for a long time. I’m thinking of several friends who have lost children before they had a chance to grow up. I’m thinking about my friend who is a single mother, raising her little boy on her own, who probably had to make her own breakfast this morning. Then, there are the children whose mothers - my friends - have passed away, and how much they are missing their moms.

So, to me Mother’s Day is complicated, perhaps especially because I view it through the lens of my faith. As a Christian, I believe that we are all called to demonstrate selfless love throughout our lives, and my experience of motherhood has been a crash course in that department. I often reflect not only on the sacrifice that Christ made for us, and how patiently he taught us the ways of love, but also of his mother, and the exquisite joy and pain she experienced. My faith has given me strength, courage, and inspiration along this wonderful, yet challenging, journey of motherhood.

But Christianity also calls us to greater compassion. And so, even as I want to celebrate all of the goodness and beauty and joy that comes from motherhood, and praise mothers for their steadfast, unconditional love, I am also very aware of those who are suffering today, and thinking about the many ways that all Christians are called to show motherly love to each other.

I’m reminded of a quote from one of my favorite authors and bloggers, Glennon Melton: “There’s no such thing as other people’s children.” She and several other authors have formed the Compassion Collective, and they are working fervently to help with the refugee crisis in Europe, literally saving children’s lives every day. In a sense, they are extending a motherly love to strangers on another continent, trying to feed them, clothe them, shelter them, heal them. Similarly, there are countless women like my youngest sister, a school counselor, who care for children all day long, shouldering those burdens after they leave work, even though they have no children of their own.

I suspect that Mother’s Day is such an intensely emotional day for us because it is essentially about that which matters most to us humans: love. It is about the profound love that is shared between a mother and child, or the aching that comes from losing that bond. It hits us at our most tender spot, and shines the spotlight on one of the most significant and influential relationships in our lives.

But just as our Christian faith encompasses the boundless joy of God’s unconditional love along with the pain of Christ’s suffering, so too does Mother’s Day encompass the heights of love and the depths of loss. We can hold all of these feelings together in our hands without diminishing any of them: they coexist, today and always.

I want to finish by sincerely wishing a Happy Mother’s Day to all of the moms who are here today -- you deserve to be spoiled! And to those who are hurting today, I also want to extend an empathetic hug to you -- because you deserve compassion. And to all of us, I say: let’s celebrate Mother’s Day by pouring our love out on the world -- because the world needs it.

I Am Not the Center of the Universe

Today, my daughter reminded me of this all-important life lesson. When her brothers decided to play a game without her, she immediately jumped to the distressing conclusion that they hate her. Anyone who knows my boys would say that they treat her with great love and affection and enjoy spending time with her. Yet, in that moment, their decision to play Cars 2 Monopoly made her feel unloved. 

These are the times when we parents are challenged to think fast and find some way to deliver a critical, life-changing truth, even when we're really thinking, "Quit your whining and let me finish my email!" So naturally, I found the finger puppets and used a little role-play to illustrate my point. Fortunately, my ploy worked. She watched the boy finger puppets count the minutes idly during their sister's absence (since she had asked them not to play when she wasn't around), finally giving in to boredom and resuming play before her return, and then facing her hysterical screams that they hate her because they got tired of sitting around doing nothing. She laughed and laughed and laughed, and she began to understand that it was a little unreasonable to expect that they would do nothing while she was gone. 

I told her: sometimes, other people are just living their lives and making the best choices for themselves, and they aren't calculating your reaction with every decision they make. Sometimes, your brothers just want to play a game, and it doesn't mean that they love you any more or less. If you can see that - if you can remember that what other people say or do is mostly about their own heads and hearts and lives - then you'll take a lot less offense at just about everything. 

We all view the world through our own lenses, and it's easy to take things personally. When a friend or family member is upset or cranky, we might assume that they are upset with us, when really, it could be something completely unrelated to us. If we can keep a buffer between ourselves and their upset - if we can listen impartially and empathetically, without automatically becoming defensive or feeling bruised - then we can stop that negative energy from being passed on. 

And so, as I go through my day, I constantly remind myself: I am not the center of the universe. Everyone has their own problems, their own challenges, their own worries and fears. I will keep trying to recall that not everything is about me: sometimes, people are just cranky, and sometimes, I'm just due for a little bad luck. When I am less defensive - when I avoid the temptation to take things personally - I can be more helpful, more peaceful, and just plain happier. 

The Freedom that Comes from Knowing Who You Are

This morning, I am remembering a conversation I had several years ago with an acquaintance whose words left a lasting impression on me. She is a brilliant, accomplished woman, with both a law degree and a Ph.D., and at the time, she was "just" taking care of her family. In addition to raising her children, she was also caring for their grandparents, who were having health problems, and also assuming a heavy work load in running the home because of her husband's demanding work schedule.

I spoke with her about my own struggle to adjust from being a career woman to a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom, and how I was looking for some part-time work to reconnect with the professional side of me. I recounted to her some experiences when I had perceived someone else's surprise or disappointment that I wasn't working full-time, or that I hadn't taken advantage of great career opportunities since becoming a mother.

She understood, and she told me about how she had tried to do some part-time work, but had stopped because she felt that it was taking her attention away from her family. She had reached a point in her life where she realized that she no longer felt that she had to prove herself to anyone. "I know who I am," she said with a confident, relaxed smile. Her self-assurance and serenity blew me away. Rarely had I ever seen someone who was so at peace with herself, so sure of her decision, so clear about the person she wanted to be.

This post is not about whether moms should work or stay at home. Rather, it's about clarifying what's most important to us, what our gifts are, what our purpose is, and making sure that our daily activities are aligned with all of that. If we can figure out who we really are inside, what we truly care about, we can then make choices that allow us to be true to ourselves. When we have that self-knowledge - when we take the time to reflect on what matters most to us at our core - then we can free ourselves from the expectations of the world, from the need to appear accomplished or important or attractive or stylish or whatever else we're trying so hard to be. We can just... be ourselves.

When I feel anxiety creeping into my life, I try to ask myself, "Why am I doing this?" or "Why am I so worried about this?" Most of the time, I realize very quickly that my anxieties are related to things that I don't really, in my heart, think are all that important. This is not a lesson that we learn only once, but rather one that life reinforces over and over again. In other words, it's always a challenge to keep those anxieties in check, although it does get easier with practice.

If friends are coming to my house and it doesn't look exactly the way I'd like it to, I feel anxiety, and then I ask myself: will these friends really change their opinion of me if I have a pile of papers there and laundry piled on the couch? And if they will, are they really my friends? If I know who I am, should I care so much about what others think of me? If I know that my priorities are in the right place, that I'm spending my time the way it should be spent according to what I value most, then does someone else's opinion about my life matter?

Consider this an invitation to get to know yourself a little better. There is always something new to learn, some layer to discover under the surface, some new facet or insight or shift taking place within us. And with that new knowledge of yourself, may you find the confidence to say, in the face of life's constant pressures and demands and expectations, "I know who I am."

Finding Our Way Out of the Fog

When I woke up this morning, the view from my kitchen window took my breath away. From up on the hill where I live, I can see down into the valley that lies in the center of town. And even though the sunlight was streaming into my windows, there was a silvery blanket of fog floating over the valley. At the moment, all I noticed was its shimmering, dazzling beauty: the way the light was reflecting off the tiny droplets of water vapor. I felt as if I were somehow magically floating above the clouds.

But when I drove into town, I couldn't see anything. I had to drive right into that silvery blanket, and once I was inside it, I couldn't see the sun - not at all. I could barely see the cars in front of me on the road. And I was struck by the contrast between my sunlit living room, where I was just minutes before, and this dreary, foggy place, which seemed like an alternate reality.

It occurred to me that often, when life throws challenges our way and our path seems uncertain, we feel as if we are living in a fog. We can't see clearly, we don't know which way to go, we feel like we're stumbling through it, and maybe we even forget that the sun is still shining somewhere up above the fog. But the truth is that it's not foggy everywhere. What appears as a foggy day to us is actually a sunny day, but we just happen to be under a patch of fog. The sun has not *actually* taken a break from shining.

As I drove through the fog, I found myself wishing that I could invite the whole city up to my house so that they could enjoy the sunshine. It would have been very crowded, but the point here is not how small my house is, but the fact that it was so much more cheerful up in my neighborhood, where the sun was shining. Why should they all be stuck in this dreariness when it's so lovely just up the hill?

And then, I thought of my friends who are going through dark, confusing times, particularly those who are grieving for a lost loved one, or for a relationship that has ended. When these dark moments happen to us, we feel like we are stumbling and can't see clearly. Perhaps we even feel as if the sun has stopped shining. As their friend, I want so much to share a little bit of sunshine with them, and to reassure them that the fog will lift eventually.

We all know that there are times in life when hope seems devastatingly elusive. There are times when life seems to deal us a cruel blow; times when the world seems like a hostile place; times when the future seems grim. But if we can look beyond that patch of fog, to the edges of the clouds, we might just see the sun shining. We might be able to imagine a brighter future. We might start to see the goodness around us, the beauty of the world and the people who live in it.

It has taken me more than a month to post on this blog again. To me, it felt too difficult to make a compelling case for optimism with the possibility of war with Syria, and then with the government shut down, watching our nation's leaders blame each other for their seemingly unyielding impasse. The fog was getting to me. And now, we have averted war, and our government is running again. The fundamental, underlying problems have not vanished, but collectively, we have found our way out of these messes. Now, the future of our world seems a little more hopeful to me than it did a few weeks ago.

And those friends of mine who are struggling with tremendous heartbreak? Miraculously, they are enduring. They are persevering. They are picking themselves up and moving forward, one painful step at a time. Their hearts are broken, but they are finding their way, choosing each day to keep going, no matter how hard it is. Whether their own fog will lift today, tomorrow, next week, or next year, they are seeking the sunlight. These friends are my heroes: they are facing our biggest fears and finding the courage to continue living their lives. May we all continue to seek the sunlight, to share it with others, and to remember that no matter how foggy it seems, the fog never lasts forever.

Labor Day Musings

In my youth, I viewed Labor Day simply as an extra holiday without giving it much thought - it was a day for cookouts, picnics, and pool parties. But life experience has widened my gaze, so that today, I feel both a profound sense of gratitude for the progress that has been made as well as keen awareness of the challenges that remain in terms of protecting the rights of laborers.

If we take a moment to reflect on our country's history, we will recall that it was not so long ago when children were found in hazardous factories rather than in school. We might remember that labor unions were formed at a time when it was their only option to protect themselves against greedy, unscrupulous employers. As I watched this brief video, my eyes welled up with tears as I reflected on the fact that our laws have not always protected the rights of children to receive an education:

While we should certainly take time to celebrate our progress, we must also reflect on the problems that still exist, both here and abroad. There are still millions of Americans who struggle to earn a living wage, or even to find a job at all. And while I often complain about my own "tight budget," I feel ashamed of myself when I remember that there are single mothers with minimum wage jobs trying to support their children, unable to give their children a fraction of what I can give mine.

Hopefully, it is obvious that income inequality is steadily increasing in our country. The US Conference of Catholic Bishops, in their 2013 Labor Day Statement, remind us that this is a critical issue requiring our attention and energy:

"Labor Day is an opportunity to take stock of the ways workers are honored and respected. Earlier this year, Pope Francis pointed out, "Work is fundamental to the dignity of a person. . . . It gives one the ability to maintain oneself, one's family, to contribute to the growth of one's own nation." Unfortunately, millions of workers today are denied this honor and respect as a result of unemployment, underemployment, unjust wages, wage theft, abuse, and exploitation.

"Even with new indicators of some modest progress in recovery, the economy still has not improved the standard of living for many people, especially for the poor and the working poor, many of whom are unemployed or underemployed. More than four million people have been jobless for over six months, and that does not include the millions more who have simply lost hope. For every available job, there are often five unemployed and underemployed people actively vying for it. This jobs gap pushes wages down. Half of the jobs in this country pay less than $27,000 per year. More than 46 million people live in poverty, including 16 million children."

When we take the time to reflect on this kind of injustice, it can feel overwhelming and disheartening. But when we unite and make our voices heard, we can create change. It may not be instantaneous, but it has to start somewhere. One easy step would be to sign this petition asking McDonald's and Wal-Mart to raise their minimum wages, which are currently less than $9 per hour. How any adult can raise children on that salary is beyond my comprehension.

Then, there's the fact that children in other countries can still be required to work, often in conditions that would horrify us. I am reminded of the tragic collapse of a textile factory in Bangladesh just a few months ago, which killed hundreds of workers, some of whom were still children. Here is a first-hand account from a teenage girl who was there. I can't imagine anyone not being shocked and disturbed by this news. But rather than allowing it to depress us, we can allow it to inspire us to act. We can support organizations like Stop Child Labor that help to defend children around the world.

We might be tempted to excuse ourselves from action, telling ourselves that we are powerless. But history teaches us that progress is often achieved only when people raise their voices and take action. Those of us who live comfortably should not isolate ourselves from those who are struggling, especially not if we claim to believe that the poor are our brothers and sisters. Let us rest and celebrate today, but let us not forget tomorrow about those who need our help.

The Root of My Optimism

I spend a lot of time thinking about how to make things better. It's a compulsion of sorts. Take myself, for instance. Each day, I am amazed by how much I still don't know. I've been on this planet for almost four decades, and I've already forgotten at least half of what I've learned. Then there's the realm of emotions and personal growth. No matter how long and how hard I have been trying since childhood, I am still working on the same list of virtues: patience, perseverance, courage, self-control, humility, mercy, honesty, sacrifice. It seems that every time I take a step forward, I see how much further I have yet to go.

But there is one virtue that comes more easily to me than any other, and that is hope. I can't help but look for the silver lining. There is always room for improvement, always a solution waiting to be found, always a chance for reconciliation and redemption. There is always a breakthrough around the corner, a new way of viewing a situation, a fresh approach to an apparent stalemate. There is always a lesson to be learned from a mistake, a way to make amends, an opportunity to start again.

Of course, I feel as discouraged as anyone else upon hearing disheartening news, from the personal to the global. Sometimes, it's tempting to give in to fear and distress, to a sense of powerlessness. But then I take a good look at all of the problem-solvers and the healers and the givers, and I behold the immense capacity of human beings for adaptation and innovation and cooperation, and I think, there is hope. Hope for a better world. Hope for a better life. Hope for the future.

It is my stubborn and persistent hope that drives most of what I do. I studied political science and international relations in college because I wanted to bring peace and prosperity to the world. I studied education in graduate school because I believed that the key to a better future lies in empowering our youth. I worked in state government because I wanted to be involved in the process of improving education at the state level. I volunteer at church because I have seen the way that a loving community can facilitate amazing transformations and can offer much-needed support for someone going through a difficult time. I make music because believe in its power to inspire and connect and heal. And ultimately, I began homeschooling my children because I had faith in their potential, and in my own potential to be the right teacher for them.

This compulsive hope is what drives me to seek wisdom in a variety of domains: innovative approaches to education, spiritual guidance, practical tips on healthy living and preserving the environment, strategies for tackling social problems, and of course, parenting advice. It can be exhausting and overwhelming to think about this stuff all the time. But it's who I am. As long as I have breath, I will keep trying to solve problems, to heal others' wounds, to spread peace, to conserve our natural resources, to work toward a world in which all children have their needs met.

Yes, I realize that I can't do all of this myself. That's where this blog comes in. I want to share my ideas, my inspiration, my challenges, and my research with those who share my desire to make things better. I sincerely hope that you'll find something here that will be helpful to you, and that you'll pass it along. We can achieve great things when we work together, when we help and encourage each other, when we share ideas and inspiration with one another. To quote O. S. Mardan: "There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something tomorrow."