It May Get Worse Before It Gets Better

There's a lot going on in the world, isn't there? And I am constantly torn between writing and talking about those big things and trying to manage the here and now of my life. I sat here writing a list of all the household projects I've got the supplies to do (and thus should do before asking the landlord if I can rip out some carpet and paint some walls Stiffkey Blue) whilst also thinking about how the dehumanization of immigrants is very similar to the dehumanization of the Jews in Germany in 1933 and onwards. So I'm going to talk about that second one first. And maybe sometime I will regale you with tales of cans of paint and what they are meant for. I think we can all agree that the second thing is more important.

A lot of people feel it is hyperbole to say that the USA today is like Germany in 1933, as it ramped up to concentration camps in which the Nazis would systematically kill people they didn't deem good enough to spare for the purpose of doing work for them. There were many Jews who had lived in Germany their entire lives and considered themselves to be very much German, and Hitler and his ilk set out to make them the "other." They weren't "true Germans," he said, but enemies. They should be treated differently, because they were different. Lesser. And so it went, and so it continued, until there were mass graves and piles of bodies that were barely skin and bones, and we who considered ourselves the "good guys" had to be in league with armies that, after liberating those in concentration camps, marched through and systematically raped German women who'd had nothing to do with Hitler or his ilk. We know how bad it got, and it seems unfathomable, which is partly why we think it won't happen today. Aren't we better than that?

Well. Let's see.

Now we see a policy of putting immigrants in cages and tent cities (uh, camps, if you will), and of seeking out immigrants who have done no wrong and deporting them under technicalities of the law. We see a policy that will attempt to denaturalize those deemed unworthy. They are not "one of us." They are not "American." They should be treated differently, because they are different. Lesser. This is with a firm history behind us of othering people as a nation. When they say "Make America great again," just what are they talking about? When indigenous peoples were driven off their own land? Slavery? Jim Crow? America has only been consistently great for only one group of people, but no one else, and if we deny that, then there is no hope for us to move forward in the future.

We must take the things that happen at this time seriously. We must not assume, as many Germans did when Hitler was elected, that this is a fluke and that nothing worse will happen. Worse things keep happening. How bad will we let it get before we admit this? And then once we admit it, how long before we actively do something about it?

It feels overwhelming now, but here are some ideas of things to do. First, do not discount voices of those who have traditionally been marginalized (Maxine Waters, for instance) while allowing the voices of the powerful to loom large. This question of civility is meant to silence people. They are saying that the only thing we are allowed to do is vote. That is "civil." No. If we see someone who is hurting others, we are allowed to speak up. I would say we are obligated. Do that. Would you speak up if you witnessed someone harming a child in a park? Well, just because members of the administration are not directly touching those families who are being traumatized doesn't mean that they aren't hurting them. Speak up for the powerless. If people are uncomfortable, then that is their problem which they have created themselves. We should not seek to make those who are harming others more comfortable, or allow them to remain comfortable.

Second, donate to the campaigns of those who are in districts and states that have been bought off by big money. Support candidates like Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, who knows the people she will represent and truly cares about them. If you give just $5 per week to campaigns like hers, you can help elect people who truly care, who will do what the people want instead of what the corporations and PACs who finance most campaigns want. If you can, go out canvassing and letting people know that we can change things.

Third, talk to people who have not yet understood how bad things are. If they are Christians, gently but firmly remind them that Jesus was taken as a child refugee to Egypt. Remind them how he treated people who his culture deemed should be treated differently. The Samaritan woman and the leper were welcomed by him, despite being shunned by the people who were the religious leaders of the day. He made it clear they were not lesser. He made it clear that they were valued, that they were loved.

Finally, take care of one another. If you know someone who is in a group that is being affected or may be affected by these policies, offer them comfort. Make a plan for how you might be able to help if things get worse. I hope and pray that they don't get worse, but history tells me that it is possible. Let's be ready to do what we need to do.

Meet in the Middle

We've just returned from the annual church conference and festival. It's three days of hanging out with other Orthodox Christians, listening to talks on the theme for the conference, and allowing the children a bit more freedom than they get in the city, thanks to the expansive green space and rooms which are basically made for children lounging around without their parents present (meaning, there is a ping pong table and a television, as well as various places to set snacks). I like going because it's nice to hear talks that are meant for adults and because I don't have to cook any meals or do any dishes.

This year was our third year, and this basically means that we've been attending for long enough to be asked to do tasks related to the running of the conference. I think this is good and right, and we want to contribute. I was asked to help with the children's program, which is what I am nearly always asked to do at any gathering that has a children's program, as it is assumed that because I am a home educator with a background in child development, this will be exactly the thing I will enjoy doing. Except, it's not. This is exactly what I do not want to do on a weekend away. It's just more of the same, you know?

But I said yes, because I wanted to do my bit, and also because there was some savings in the cost of the conference if I agreed to do it. I was taking one for the team, basically, making this affordable for my family by doing something I'd prefer not to do. For two teams, if we count the team of people who attend the conference with children and like having something for their children to do. So I did it, and I did a decent job outwardly, but the honest truth is that I struggled with not resenting being charged with this task. It made the weekend a working weekend for me, and I did not get to hear many of the talks. Add to that my struggle with not judging other parents who sat by while I kept their children from creating utter chaos with the craft supplies, and well...it probably wasn't the best fit for me.

And yet I am considering helping again next year - I am fairly certain I will be asked. As the weekend was wrapping up, and I got to hear one brief talk, I thought about what worked and what didn't work for me. Overall, I felt a little tapped out and ready to be done, but that wasn't the only feeling I had. As tempting as it would be to just write the whole thing off as a disaster for me inwardly and personally, and vow never to do it again, there were some things that I liked about it that I would be willing to do again. There are some things I am good at that I know are not the forte of the others who are doing the planning, and it is truly easy and enjoyable for me to do those things. Planning a craft related to a theme and gathering supplies for that craft? So easy and fun. I also really don't mind sitting in with the children for the first session of the weekend, when there's no chaos yet and everyone wants to sit quietly and watch a movie. So I will offer to do those things.

For me, this is a key realization. It doesn't have to be all or nothing in these situations. I can set a boundary that isn't a full on no, but that isn't a full yes either. I'm not sure why, but this is something that I haven't learned before. Forty-two years on this planet, and it's a new concept. But I don't think I'm the only one this hasn't occurred to. It seems like a lot of us are so used to having limited options - usually YES or NO - that we don't explore the continuum in between those two. I think that is to everyone's detriment in this sort of situation. In some ways, of course it is easier for organizers to have someone who will do as requested without complaint. But if that person spends most of the time they're doing the job being resentful that they have to do it, or if they get burned out because it's too much of whatever is normally going on in their lives, then that doesn't work out very well. And of course it doesn't work out well for the person doing the work and resenting it.

The funny thing about this to me is that in our life as parents, we actively seek compromise with our children. And yet, it didn't occur to me to apply this in other areas of my life. Power sharing in this way allows everyone to feel as if they have some choice, and it promotes a closer relationship because one person doesn't feel dominated by the other. As a parent, I do have the final say, and this is something I can note for other interactions for which I might want to compromise. In offering an alternative plan to what I've been asked to do, I've got to respect what the organizers would like to accomplish, and they do have final say. But in offering something different, I don't have to say a full NO. I think that's a win for everyone.

On Patriotism and Allegiance

I've been thinking a lot about the United States of America lately. About patriotism and the pledge of allegiance, specifically. Reading about World War II with Zinashi, strict devotion to one's country doesn't seem like a great idea. It seems...dangerous. Do you know how the Third Reich was built? On patriotism. An encouragement to serve their country, to be above all else German and to take pride in that. Patriotism is misguided at best, cruel at worst.

We should pause before we say any pledge and ask the purpose. Is our US history really so noble and good? Is our present mode of governance and power acceptable? In our homeschool studies, we have read the history of Europeans coming to the Americas, from the beginning, and it is kind of awful. A nation established not on freedom, but on bloodshed and oppression. We did not read some left wing bleeding heart liberal book to come to this conclusion either. We read a pretty traditional book called This Country of Ours, in which things are written to make all these battles and men sound amazing and noble. But when they lay out the facts of what happened, it just comes across as cruel.

The more I look at current events and couple it with history, the more I think we've got little to be proud of and a lot to fix. Could the USA be great? Perhaps. But I don't think it's ever been as great as people make it out to be. We've just believed the propaganda. We've put our hands on our hearts and pledged allegiance to a place where people are still arrested just because they are Black. Where white terrorists murder people and then are taken in without a shot being fired, while a man in a backyard is gunned down for holding a mobile phone. Go back 100 years, and that man might have been lynched for no reason, and white people would've turned up to watch, for entertainment. And before that, he would've been made to work for free, killed if he didn't comply, bred them as if he were an animal and not a human being.

Go back further, and see how we slaughtered the people who were native to the land which is now called the United States of America, in order to force them off and keep it for ourselves. Put them onto reservations, as if that would ever be enough for what we took. Is that freedom? Is that liberty and justice for all? A river of indigenous blood and forced labor from another continent? Is it? Can we honestly say that this was a good and right beginning to a nation?

I am ashamed of my history.

I will not pledge allegiance to that.

But I will also say that, even if the USA were a good and just place to live, I don't think it would be right to pledge allegiance to its flag in any case. I don't mean to be harsh, but isn't that a bit of idolatry? Of attaching our sense of self and belonging to something which does not deserve it? My loyalties do not lie with a particular country. I don't think they should, not matter how good that country is or may seem. If I can be so bold, I will say it goes against the basic tenets of my faith. My loyalty to God is not as strong as it should be in the best of times. Should I not attend to that before I attend to pride in my country? Should I not devote myself to service to my fellow human beings, wherever they may live, whatever they may look like, wherever they may be from? I think that this is what is good and right. My heart belongs to God and my neighbor. I will not pledge allegiance to anyone or anything else.

The Best Good Cat Who Ever Lived

On Wednesday, we said good-bye to our darling Phae. She was twenty-one-and-a-half years old, and while it wasn't a shock, in a way we'd sort of fooled ourselves into thinking she'd surely live another decade, because she had been so healthy and remained active and chatty despite stiffening joints and a need for more sleep. But she had chronic kidney disease, and that coupled with old age meant that her days were numbered. In the end, she couldn't do any of the things that brought her so much happiness throughout her life, and we knew that it was time to let her go.

Phae was my very first house cat. I'd gotten it into my head that I wanted a grey cat, and someone at church said that they had a grey little kitten, and I was welcome to come get her. So I did. She was timid at first, and she hid inside the sofa as soon as I let her out in the apartment I shared with a friend. I was in university at the time, and every day I would come home from my classes, lie down by that sofa, and put a little tuna in my hand, outstretched near to where she was hiding. Each day I moved my hand a bit closer to the outside of the sofa, and one day she came right out to eat her tuna treat. Finding that she was safe in the big, wide world, from then on she was a friendly and confident cat. She climbed up the side of my bed that night and slept on my pillow, kneading my hair with her paws. She had decided she was mine, and I was already hopelessly devoted to her.

Over the next two decades, we moved together, and sometimes she stayed behind with friends of mine when I had to work away. I called her on the phone, and then when video chats became possible, I'd talk to her that way. I know that seems silly, but she was my dear little friend, and it didn't matter to me that she was a cat. I wanted to speak to her, like I did every day when we were together. Even when we lived apart, I came home to her, always. She was the constant in my life during years that brought endless change, and a fair share of heartbreak.

When J came along, she decided she loved him. She moved in with him before I moved back home to marry him, and so one might say that she's lived with him longer than I have.  Next we added Z to the family, and soon after her arrival, they became fast friends. She would allow Z to dress her in all sorts of doll clothes and hats and various bits of fabric. Sometimes she gave me a look that seemed to mean, "It's fine. I'm fine. No problem."

Then when E came along, Phae seemed to decide that we'd brought her a kitten of her very own. She groomed her and watched over her. If E was napping, Phae would curl up next to her. As E grew and became quite boisterous, Phae simply accepted it. From time to time she might give a slightly annoyed meow, but she never tried to leave E's side or get E to change what she was doing. She still came to E to be cuddled and fussed over. I've never seen anything like it in a cat.

To the end, she was loving, patient, loyal to all of us. She loved us and allowed us to love her, and we have been better off because she has blessed us with her presence. We will miss her every single day of our lives.

Rest in peace, dearest Phae. We adore you always.

Small Big Reminders

I got this fancy schmancy gigantic Orla Kiely canister, and now I mostly feel motivated to keep my kitchen clean. I say mostly because today I was not motivated. I was out of the house. But it's the absolute truth that having something nice in my kitchen makes me want to make the rest of it look nice enough for this thing to reside in. I'm not sure if that's problematic or not, but I'm going to say it's a good thing.

The story of this canister is kind of funny. I saw it, fell in love with it, and assumed I couldn't afford it because the small canisters cost £25, and I wasn't willing to spend even that much. The price wasn't listed anywhere that I could find it, and I assumed that it would be more than the smaller containers. So I walked away. But then I couldn't stay away, and walked into the store the next day to ask someone how much it cost. And what do you know? It was on super duper last chance clearance sale for £15.80. I had that amount to spend without putting us into a minor financial crisis, so I bought it. It's meant to have teff flour in it, but I've been spending so much time keeping the rest of the kitchen clean that I haven't had time to wash this out and put the teff flour in it. So it just sits there, looking pretty.

I think that's fine. Don't argue with me; I will just disagree.

But I do find it interesting that something small like this can be such an inspiration. Well, it's large, but still. It is not a big deal to have this - or is it? Here is something that I thought I would have to forego in the interest of stable family finances, which I assumed was out of reach to someone like me. But then it wasn't! And this, above all else, gives me hope. Hope for the day to day and hope for the bigger things I'd like to happen but that seem entirely out of reach. This canister is a reminder that sometimes, we get what we want, if we will be bold enough to ask for it. That doesn't mean it isn't still a gift, of course. But the asking was important.

So much of what I have wanted, I have gotten by asking. Surely I have heard some firm NOs, but overall, I am living a charmed life. And as silly as it may seem, this canister is a visible reminder of that. Maybe I have to wait to order my dream shoes, maybe we can't yet afford to purchase a house here in London (oh, but I'd love to be able to buy the one we are currently living in), but here we are in the city where we always wanted to live, in a house that is more than I could have hoped to afford, and my children are learning and growing and loving one another. We travel a little. We have three cats and lots of friends and everything we need, plus a lot of things that we simply want.

At this moment, I really couldn't ask for more. Because I already did, and I got it.

The Joy of the Everyday

It is Sunday afternoon. I've just added about thirty books to our homeschool wish list, because I just get so excited about how many things we could learn. Z reads for pleasure, both to herself and aloud to E, and I cannot tell you just how thrilling I find this to be. If you can read and enjoy it, you can learn anything. We may have our challenges related to working memory difficulties, but oh! It doesn't impede the delight of learning new things!

Today I am rekindling my joy in the work I am doing. We have been far busier than I prefer to be, and that makes me forget how satisfying this work is. But today we are at home, and I am looking back over the photos I've taken this month of our everyday antics, and I am so pleased with the good work we have been doing. The house is a mess in most of the photos, but there's a photo of my children playing their ukuleles, a snap of them reading together, a mirror reflection above of sitting on the stairs, drinking tea, and giving Teddy the love he deserves.

We are so fortunate to have the life we do. That my children can learn in a way that brings them pleasure is something that is not afforded to everyone. We have been reading Helen Keller's autobiography, and when we came to the part where she talked about her early learning being a joyful endeavor, Z and I grinned at each other. We get to do that, too, mostly.

Oh, we have things to do that are drudgery. Absolutely no one enjoys correcting spelling. I am not awfully keen on teaching my children to read. But the payoff of these everyday tasks, well - that is all worth it. It won't be long before I've got two children who can read whatever they like off the bookshelves and learn something new from it. Their minds are breaking wide open with possibility, and it's because of these things we do every day, that are in and of themselves not very enjoyable. But put it all together, and here we are, in the midst of joy.

And all these other little things that I do to make our life work out, that I sometimes grumble about or scowl at, they make this joy possible as well. All those little tasks that seem like drudgery are the things that make this life the life we get to have. I write this not to boast, but to remind myself. Every time I adjust the budget, each time I repair something instead of getting a new one, every time I get up early to pack a lunch so we don't have to buy one out - I am making this life possible. This is good work, and it can be joyful work, and this post is really just a reminder.

We are living the good life. There is joy.

Cleaning for Fun and Satisfaction

This is a photo of my children cleaning the bathroom windowsill. They saw that it was dirty and decided to do something about it. Then they noticed some other problem areas in the bathroom, and they cleaned those, too. Sometimes they clean and organize their room for fun, and other times they pretend our house is an inn, and they clean the whole thing aside from dusting (because they never remember that dusting is a thing people do*) for fun. Z also has discovered the joy of organizing her space so she can find things. I rarely ask my children to clean anymore, because they do it willingly.

I am a lucky, lucky woman.

But I also did some things to encourage this behavior, and so I'm going to tell you what I've done in case you want to give it a go and see if it works for you.

The main thing that works in my favor is that I have made it clear to my children that they are not required to clean. It is optional. They can always choose not to do it. They have to have all their things put away if they want screen time, but they can choose not to have screen time. For our weekly Minecraft night, they've got to have all their things put away plus clean the bathroom, but it's still optional. They can choose to skip the work and the Minecraft. Sometimes they have. I offer sympathy when cleaning is the last thing they'd like to do, or if they made the choice to clean too late and can't get it done in time to get what they want, but I don't make a huge deal about it.

I've also told them that, aside from the times that they are earning screen or Minecraft time, they can keep their room as messy as they wish. This is their space, and I won't interfere. Sometimes, the entire floor is covered with toys and books, and once there were ants coming in through the window because Z forgot that she'd left a muffin in a bag that she'd set on the windowsill. I say nothing negative about it unless someone gets a little aggressive with their request for me to help find something that is lost in there, and then it's just a firm reminder that I am not the one who put the room into a state that made it easy to lose things. The ants provided a handy lesson on their own, because both my kids are afraid of insects, and I didn't do the ant removal process without some words about how this would be the only time I'd complete that task for free, given the same circumstances leading to ant invasion. My kids really don't want to pay me to be their personal exterminator. (I'll work for free if they come in at random.)

When we are not in the middle of a lost toy crisis or ant invation, I talk about how I used to let my things get very messy, and how it helps me now to have things be organized a bit better so that it's quick to clean up. I mention how it's easier to get something fully clean in a short amount of time if it gets cleaned on a regular basis. I mention the benefits without being pushy, and I also point out that sometimes rest is more important than cleaning, and it's okay for things to get messy until I have time and energy to do the job without a lot of stress.

I've also mentioned how satisfying it is to see improvement in something. I love clearing clogged drains and have not been shy about sharing my joy at having cleared out the drain with my own two hands (and some tools) (and sometimes gloves). I sometimes clap my hands when I've organized my desk. And when I notice my children doing things that improve a room, I offer praise for the effort and note how much better things look. Z will sometimes exclaim, "Can you believe how nice our room looks?" I respond, "Yes! Because you have gotten quite good at organizing! It looks amazing! You worked hard!" E is happy to join in these cleaning exploits, and bask in the praise for her own efforts.

And that's it. That's all I do. Mostly, I think that they have come to see for themselves that cleaning can be rewarding for its own sake. They like it. They love seeing the results of their labors. They are happy to do it, and I am happy, too.


*I will admit that I often don't see the point in regular dusting, so I don't model good dusting behaviors. I dust when I notice that the dust is getting pretty thick, and then I forget about it until I notice again. Dusting was my chore when I was a kid, and it's also possible that I still can't stand it for that reason. Or maybe it really is just a waste of time to do it frequently; I've met some people who agree with me on this point, so surely there's something to it. It's not unsanitary like if you fail to clean your kitchen sink or your toilets, you know?