We have heard the word “gratitude” many times in our daily language. Some people have devoted blogs to it and others have a gratitude journal which they may write in daily. But how often do we actually take the time to really think about what gratitude means? How often do our own children understand the concept of gratitude? According to Dictionary.com, Gratitude is “the quality or feeling of being thankful or grateful”. (more…)
Hello, world moms everywhere!
Wow, it’s been quite a blogcation, hasn’t it? In other parts of the world, it’s been a long and lazy summer, but for us here in the Philippines, it’s been a wet, sometimes troublesome monsoon season. Earlier in July, one of the worst typhoons hit the city of Manila (where I live), Typhoon Rammasun (called “Typhoon Glenda” by Filipinos). Several of my friends were affected; some even lost parts of their home, roofs, belongings. Others had no electricity for days, some as long as a week.
Yes, it was a difficult July for all of us here in my country. But thankfully, somehow we are alright. If you look around Manila now, there are still signs of damage. However, you will also see the smiles of our people, redolent with possibilities. Despite a harrowing monsoon season, our nation chugs on. Not without inconveniences, of course, but we manage.
I don’t know, but it’s a Filipino trait, I think. I guess our people are so used to hardships and difficulties, sometimes we just wait for them to blow over and just press forward. Of course, this is no excuse for our local government units, those responsible for the effective drainage of the annual heavy rainwaters, and the management of the city’s emergency facilities and evacuation centers. There is much to grumble about. Our government has been “awarded” as number one of the ten most corrupt countries in Asia — obviously something I’m not happy about. 30 million of our people live below the poverty line, meaning about 40 percent of our population has no adequate food rations, shelter, or access to public education.
I could go on about how much must has to change in my country. But I won’t. We have the news and social media for that.
I suppose it is because I am pregnant with my second child. As of this post for World Moms Blog, I am 16 and a half weeks along the way. I had a rocky first trimester, and am just settling into the apparent comforts of the second trimester. I am hoping and praying for a peaceful one! I’ll definitely need it so that I can work and continue to contribute to our family income.
Because I’m expecting, I can’t help but sometimes worry at how different my world is now, compared to when we had Baby #1 (who is now four years old, can you believe?). Things are definitely more challenging now: I’m older, as is my body (biological clock concerns); I seem to be busier now with work, compared to my first pregnancy (because I work from home now); financially, things are more of a concern now, with no healthcare provided for freelancers like me (Dear God, please provide). What concerns me the most is my eldest: Will I be able to show him how to be a good brother? How will we afford two kids? How, how, how?
So right now, I’m trying to see things with more positivity. But it doesn’t stop there. I want to see through to the heart of my apparent setbacks and see what I can make of them. You know what I mean? I want to — as Max Lucado says — probe and explore a problem, and eventually use it.
It’s the same with my outlook on my country. I could nitpick and worry over our national problems, or I could probe, explore and use those problems towards solutions. Every little bit of potential counts!
I want it to be the same with my pregnancy. I have resolved to look my problems in the face and challenge them head on. It’ll be harder because of my condition, but my gumption doesn’t want to fail me! I’m hoping that as I work, homeschool, rest, pray, read, keep my home, et al., that I will be able to create possibilities.
I have to. It has to start with me. Don’t you agree?
How about you, moms? How do you deal with apparent setbacks, in your own world? What do you do to press forward?
This is an original post by Martine de Luna for World Moms Blog. Photo credit goes to the author. Please visit Martine’s blog at www.makeitblissful.com. You can also work with her, if you want to create blogs or websites for your business, just connect with her at www.martinedeluna.com
However, as I mentioned before, most of our filters are unconscious. So even if we think we’re being objective and reporting only facts, what we believe and what we share is shaped by the filters which were created by the way we were raised, and what we were taught by adults we trusted and respected.
Currently there are two human tragedies unfolding; The Gaza War and the Ebola Outbreak. Both of these stories have generated a type of media frenzy. It’s impossible to remain neutral. I know what I, a Caucasian, 45 year old woman, mother of 2, non-practicing Catholic, Italian living in South Africa, believes but for the sake of illustrating my point, I’m going to take the opposite stance regarding the Ebola Outbreak.
“I was born and raised in rural Sierra Leone. I’ve never heard of viruses. I’ve never met people of a different race. One day these strange people come to my village and the police and soldiers come and block roads. Some people I know just disappear. People I trust tell me it’s because these strange new people have come to our village, and are making us sick because they need our bodies to do witchcraft. I am very frightened. I see them carry away J and I never see him again. When I ask those strange people where is J, they tell me he is dead …. but they never give the body back to the family to bury as is proper. Now I know the truth, what the people are saying is right, why else would they not return the body to the grieving family? It must be because they are using his body parts to do witchcraft.”
Can you see how his “truth” differs from ours? Do you understand how logical it is for him to come to the conclusion he has, given what he “knows”?
I’d like to suggest that we all pause a minute before assuming that other people are “stupid”, “ignorant” or “liars”. We need to check our own filter first! We are all much more alike than we are different, but we’re the ignorant ones if we don’t really take the time to find out why someone else’s truth differs from our truth.
Can you remember a time when what you remembered an event in a completely different way to the way someone else remembered the same event? Thinking about it now, can you accept that you were both “right”?
Mamma Simona was born in Rome (Italy) but has lived in Cape Town (South Africa) since she was 8 years old. She studied French at school but says she’s forgotten most of it! She speaks Italian, English and Afrikaans. Even though Italian is the first language she learned, she considers English her "home" language as it's the language she's most comfortable in. She is happily married and the proud mother of 2 terrific teenagers! She also shares her home with 2 cats and 2 dogs ... all rescues. Mamma Simona has worked in such diverse fields as Childcare, Tourism, Library Services, Optometry, Sales and Admin! (With stints of SAHM in-between). She’s really looking forward to the day she can give up her current Admin job and devote herself entirely to blogging and (eventually) being a full-time grandmother!
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I live in St. Louis. Heartbreak has come to my city. It was probably always here, but now that it has taken the form of riots and military-style armed police in American streets of Ferguson, it’s raw and exposed for everyone here and the entire world to see. Many people reading this post will recognize Ferguson from the headlines trending for the days following the death of unarmed, African-American 18-year-old Michael Brown by a police officer.
Ferguson is both very far and very near from where I live depending on perspective. Geographically, it lies about 25 miles north of me. I can be there in about 30 minutes by car. On my side of town this week, it was sunshine and smiles for my kids on their first days of school while so much pain and anger roiled beyond my sight-line from my north-facing front door.
Wednesday evening, I watched in horror as my twitter feed filled with pictures of tear gas clouds rising in the night air. The scene couldn’t have been more different than the peace of my own home where my family sat doing a puzzle and listening to a St. Louis radio station, which gave no indication of the rioting.
The next morning when I woke to local news radio, I heard school was canceled in Ferguson for the next two days due to the violence. In that respect, Ferguson is worlds away because my daily reality is so far from the experience of parents living there. Or is it? Maybe it’s just that I just need to wake up and take a good look at the city I call home now.
I moved to the St Louis area just over a year ago. We came here from Chicago, a city infamous in the past and present for gun violence with it’s own history of racial rioting (Riots Follow Killing of Martin Luther King, Jr, Chicago Tribune). Diversity looks different to me here than our old Chicago suburban neighborhood where over 60 language dialects were spoken in our school district. While our old school had many different shades of color because of the high immigrant population from many countries, our current student population falls much more along a white/black divide of families who have lived in the U.S. for more than a few generations. I want to believe we live in a post-racial society, but I can’t say that when I see there are only African-American children eating the subsidized breakfast at our school with no Caucasian children sitting at the table. I am thrilled there is a system in place to help children from struggling families start the day with a full stomach. Yet I see that we have a ways to go before economic separation doesn’t also result in racial segregation at the elementary school breakfast table.
Despite the inequality before our eyes, people around here tend to feel safe in our southern suburb and separate from the struggles of communities like Ferguson. As the St Louis Post-Dispatch noted in an editorial this week, “We put up our proverbial (and literal) gates in West County, for example, and separate ourselves from the challenges of the urban core.” That perceived distance between communities is a dangerous mindset. When we see our neighbors as far away, we don’t think about their problems as our own and we’re not inclined to lend a hand or vote in ways that are beneficial to us all as the Greater St. Louis community.
The St Louis Post-Dispatch went on to give this observation that stopped me in my tracks:
“Even without that fatal confrontation, statistics suggest Michael Brown would have died earlier than other African-American males just like him who had the good fortune of being born one ZIP code to the south and west. This is but one of the startling and important conclusions of a recent Washington University study titled ‘For the Sake of All.’
…Had he lived, Michael Brown’s projected lifespan was about 15 years less than had he lived just a couple of ZIP codes away on the south side of Interstate 70. In St. Louis, ZIP code is destiny.”
I’m reminded of a quote by U2 lead signer Bono at a National Prayer Breakfast in 2006 regarding global poverty and the inequalities of survival based on country of birth: “Where you live should no longer determine whether you live.” Here in St. Louis and everywhere in the U.S., where you live shouldn’t dictate how long you live, either.
I’m happy to say that Thursday night was a peaceful night in Ferguson and in all of St. Louis County. There will be much more to work through as details come about the investigation of Michael Brown’s death. At least now, however, we can all stop watching the news helplessly and start asking ourselves the tough questions.
• What are we, personally, doing to fight racial and economic inequality?
• Have we talked to our children honestly about racism in the world today?
• How do we feel about militarization of police and what will we say to elected officials about it?
While I struggle with the questions, I’ll take some of the easy actions like donating food to my local church that will take a delivery to the Ferguson food pantry. If you don’t live in St. Louis, the call to wrestle with questions and take action still applies to you wherever you are in the world. Because Ferguson – the struggle with racism and poverty that it represents – is probably closer than you think.
This is an original post written for World Moms Blog by Cindy Levin.
Photo Credit: Flickr Creative Commons, Martin Fisch
Cynthia Changyit Levin is a mother, advocate, speaker, and author of the upcoming book “From Changing Diapers to Changing the World: Why Moms Make Great Advocates and How to Get Started.” A rare breed of non-partisan activist who works across a variety of issues, she coaches volunteers of all ages to build productive relationships with members of Congress. She advocated side-by-side with her two children from their toddler to teen years and crafted a new approach to advocacy based upon her strengths as a mother. Cynthia’s writing and work have appeared in The New York Times, The Financial Times, the Washington Post, and many other national and regional publications. She received the 2021 Cameron Duncan Media Award from RESULTS Educational Fund for her citizen journalism on poverty issues. When she’s not changing the world, Cynthia is usually curled up reading sci-fi/fantasy novels or comic books in which someone else is saving the world.
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Almost three years ago, we had the option of buying a big house in town or an apartment sized house on a small block of land. With three boys who had outgrown the space we had in town, we moved to the countryside. It’s been a great move and I feel very at home here. There is space for energy to be burned and huts to be built. There is mud. A lot of mud. There are fruit trees and a small forest. No, there isn’t enough room inside, especially when it’s midwinter and there are more than our family in the house. (Groups of 12 yo boys take up a lot of space!) I have culled and culled and culled and we still have too much stuff for the cupboards. But all in all, I’m pleased I’m here.
Before the move, one of the things I was dreading was the extra driving I was going to have to do. My boys go to school in a small city 25 minutes from home and I work in the twin small city, 25 minutes drive in the opposite direction.. The boys have friends spread out all around the area, it’s not unusual for me to drive 700km (about 430 miles) in a week and that can equate to a couple of hours each day.
While I don’t mind the actual driving, anticipating what wasn’t going to get done during that time bothered me. And it’s proven to be a justified expectation. There are weeks when the basics are all that get completed. I relish my days when I don’t have to go anywhere and at least some holiday time at home is essential for my mental health. But there has been a major up side to all that time in the car: Time with the boys, either in groups or individually, and time alone.
I get to have one on one time with each of the three boys most weeks; I get to listen to them and their friends yakking about what’s important to them (if you don‘t say anything, you learn all sorts of things); I get to talk to them about life and they get to tell me about life. We laugh, we rant, we sing, we are silly together, we plan what needs to be done when we arrive home. Sometimes we listen to talking books and at other, rare times, there is companionable silence.
I also really value the time I get in the car alone, with my thoughts or listening to cds. I have mentally worked through discussions, organised my day and contemplated the scenery. I have tuned out, sometimes, to the point where the car seems to drive itself.
And, from time with the boys to time by myself, I can see that it’s all been valuable. The silver lining(s), as they say.
Have you ever dreaded something and then discovered that there was magic in the reality of living that experience? How much time do you spend travelling each week?
This is an original post to World Moms Blog by our writer and mother of three boys in New Zealand, Karyn Van Der Zwet.
Photo credit to the author.
