Note: I wrote this back in June after the mass shooting at Pulse nightclub. I'm not sure why I never hit publish but am doing so now. As the Christmas season begins, I am purposefully surrounding myself with love and showering my family and friends with love. Love bigger. Love brighter. Merry Christmas, y'all.
It took only nine days of daycare for the germ warfare to take our little one down. He's been battling a tiny cold but last night it reared it's ugly head of snot and congestion. When he woke up with a fever this morning, I knew we were staying home.
And honestly, just like I didn't feel any guilt in sending him to school so I could go back to work, I don't feel any guilt missing work to stay home with him. Especially after the events of this weekend.
I woke up on Sunday and all I wanted to do was sit and hold my little one. Knowing there are 49 mamas out there that will never get to love on their children again breaks my heart. I cried reading the text messages one son sent his mom. I cried thinking of how happy and grateful I am that it wasn't us.
We live in a messed up world. Which I feel way more acutely now that I am a mom. I could go on and on and try to find the right words but this mama said it perfectly:
My home is filled with immense love. And yet, all the time, I scroll through my newsfeed and find heartache, pain and horror of this world that should never be. I’m left with the eternal question – what can I do? What can I do?For a split second I feel hopeless, as though the situation is too large for me. Then I sit with the question, and I’m quiet with myself, the answer is always the same. Always, always, it comes back to love. Love bigger. Love brighter.
Show these tiny people, our children, that they are, in fact, correct and right and wise to love without hesitation. Children don’t look at others with judgment to decide who deserves their love and who doesn’t. No. Children see people, all people, for the light and the love that they are—they readily accept them. Children are taught, by something outside them, that some people are worthy of love, while others aren’t. They innately know how to love. We need to remember how to return to that place.When I am so sad about the events in our world that I feel sick, I know its time to fight back with radiance, light, and joy. I will not allow hatred and fear seep into the walls of my family. I will not.
Here is where the silly, the fun, the healing of any kind comes into play. For us, it is often the kitchen dance party—an important part of my family’s healing. These dances may or may not include a glass of wine, but most definitely include some sort of fun music, horrible dance moves that my children think are AWESOME, and lots of laughter and forgetting the weight of the world.
Here’s the thing I’ve learned—as our kids grow, they are learning that the world is full of heaviness. More and more they will discover the serious, forgetting the innate joy they have claimed since birth. But I want them to know how to return to the only thing that truly matters: love. Pure and simple.
I want them to know how to heal their own hearts, and in doing so, I want them to know they are also healing their world. That their fun and laughter and joy and love matters.I can’t change other people’s hate. But I can respond by pouring more love into my home.
Our world out there is scary. Quite incredibly scary. If I could keep my babies safe from it forever, I would do whatever that thing would be. I would wrap them in any sort of bubble wrap that would do the trick. But I can’t. Bubble wrap won’t work. So my number one priority becomes teaching my children to never let go of that love in their hearts. To have the tools to open their hearts to boundless joy, to relentless love. It’s the best gift I can give them.
Dance in the kitchen and hold your people close. Love bigger. Love brighter.