I once did a series of artworks about human commonality. How, all over the globe, our similarities hugely outweigh our differences. Everything from loving our children to liking a full belly to enjoying the wheel invention.
It’s Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday. I can’t stop thinking about Haiti. I want to help. Sometimes my own effort, as one mama in Montana, can feel so small and I wonder if I can really make a difference. But then I remember…
How wonderful it is that nobody need wait a single moment before starting to improve the world. – Anne Frank
We can do no great things, only small things with great love. – Mother Teresa
I expect to pass through this world but once. Any good thing, therefore, that I can do or any kindness I can show to any fellow creature, let me do it now. Let me not defer or neglect it for I shall not pass this way again. -Stephen Grellet
A mountain is composed of tiny grains of earth. The ocean is made up of tiny drops of water. Even so, life is but an endless series of little details, actions, speeches, and thoughts. And the consequences whether good or bad of even the least of them are far-reaching. – Sri Swami Sivananda
I learned from you all during my own struggle last month that love and thought sent from many lone individuals can heal big stuff. And while I can’t go to Haiti and physically move pieces of that horrible tragedy, I can do something. There are many options to participate and I have chosen to donate a few handmades to Craft Hope for Haiti. The site is full of crafty goodness, donated by hundreds of artists, with 100% of the proceeds supporting Doctors Without Borders.
The title of this blog post came to me as I was thinking about world dynamics, unfathomable tragedy, senseless war and what’s my family’s place in all this? How can we best contribute to our community, to humanity? In a smaller way, the title also applies to my own struggles right now and is quite applicable to my new mama digs piece.
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The other night I was stirring corn into risotto and realized Ruby had been asleep for several hours. What if she is dead?, I wondered as my wooden spoon moved the creamy rice. I have these thoughts several times an hour. I hold my breath and brush the side of her cheek, exhaling when I see a palm stretch open of her little chest swell with air. She’s alive.
I am still unwinding from the trauma of Ruby’s sickness and hospitalization…click here to read the rest of this essay at mamalode.com.