Hope

I used to read the paper, watch the news, and think constantly about the injustices of the world. I felt frustrated that other people didn't seem troubled by poverty, genocide, and war. But things have changed. Now I rarely watch the news and I seriously lack understanding of current political and global events. It's not that I don't care. I care too much, in many ways. But in order to raise my kids I need to maintain a sense of hope and faith in humankind, and the only way I've figured out how to do that is to focus on my community and family and the things I can control. How can a mother leave her child to a world for which she has no hope? How can a baby become a healthy adult without his Mama saying, "don't worry, honey, everything is fine. You're safe and I'll take care of you."? I try to do my part--I recycle more and consume less and teach my kids to be kind. But for the next few years, I need to leave the big issues to others. I need to protect my hope.

Last Tuesday, friends of ours lost their first child less then three weeks before his due date. For the past few days it's been hard to shake this feeling of vulnerability, horror, and general gloom. This unimaginable loss is a reminder that after the the baby showers and tiny clothes and anticipation, becoming a parent calls for unwavering and sometimes irrational hope. Parenthood means opening your heart to the chance it will be irrevocably broken. It means the end of being sheltered and the beginning of sheltering others. Parenthood is a dangerous and heavy burden. Being a parent means acting sure and brave in the face of terror, and more than anything, it means maintaining hope in the face of a cruel (and beautiful) world. And yet we choose to become parents again and again. And that is a testament to the love we have for our children. And to the hope we have for them.