Heavy Week

I write this blog so my children will have a record of their lives. So that they can scroll through their weeks and remember these days that will feel like holding water in their hands later, and maybe to me too. I want them to remember with me.

But this week especially, they are not experiencing what I'm experiencing. I am making breakfasts and lunches and dinners and playing Spot It and doing bedtime and answering questions about firetrucks, and all the other things that come around no matter what else is on my mind. But my mind is just on the way the world is hurting. On George Floyd. On the stories so painfully similar as his. Above all else, my mind has been thinking over and over about how to teach my children how to love.

I grew up being taught that we are all equal. But the institutions and dynamics that shaped me were undeniably centered on white people, and specifically white men. And as I've grown up I've had to process so much that just "was", and now I'm working through seeing it differently. And more importantly, trying to see it through the eyes of those who are affected at a much greater cost than what I'll ever pay.

That quote above -- racism is bigger than hate. That's been the dominant thought on my mind this week. I was taught to love and not hate, but that doesn't mean there isn't racism interwoven in me in ways that I need to recognize and root out. Of course I will teach my children not to hate. But I am responsible to teach them about privilege, and experiences outside of their own, and responsibility and charity that extends beyond pleasantries. The pain of the world around us feels so raw. 

And to be honest, the last four years have left me feeling a new kind of empty. This is a combination of so many things, but specifically these two -- 1) Motherhood requires so much of my soul in ways I could never have anticipated that it can be so difficult to consciously expand my sphere, and 2) when I do scrape up the energy to engage, the emptiness and bewilderment I feel toward the disagreements and discord in our world right now leaves me so low. I've listened to podcasts and read books and talked with friends who I've admired in the way they are able to engage and advocate for their beliefs even when faced with strong opposition. And I've wished for the hope/energy/desire to return to sharing more.

That's privilege. The ability to turn off my level of engagement, turn off my activism, turn off spending energy outside of my sphere. And now I see that it's all connected more than I was admitting -- because motherhood is the breakfasts and lunches and bedtimes, but more importantly it's teaching my children to have the hope, and energy, and desire, and awareness they will need to leave the world better than they found it.

I knew that, but I have always been assuming that part will start later. Now I see where that assumption leaves us. Systemic oppression with deep roots and millions of us assuming the problem lies somewhere else. You can be free of hate but still be racist. That different kind of racism is so much bigger. That starts early, that runs deep.

That needs to be stopped. And it's going to be full of uncomfortable, intentional, baby steps. Of course I want to raise children who are kind, who love, who have equality woven deep in their soul. But this week for the first time I have realized the importance of raising them to be actively anti-racist. Even admitting that is uncomfortable. But that's ok.

So when my babies grow up and scroll through these weeks someday and read this one, I hope they realize how much I wanted to teach them what matters most. Our home church was focused on sharing what we know today, including sharing what we know about each other so that we can work on assuming the best and seeing the good in each of us. That's basically their world right now -- the five of us. I hope they grow up continuing to see the good in people. And growing the good in themselves. I just ache for the world right now, and ache for what they may find as they get bigger.

Praying for hope.

Every time I start packing, Westin has lots to come tell me and Bennett suddenly wants lots of hugs.
It's very productive.

Daddy's spider hand is such a crack up.

Sometimes this guys just isn't having the bedtime thing,
and gets to get up and hang out with mom and dad for a bit.

Do you ever just NOT get in a grocery shopping mood for a while?
Or a clean your fridge mood...

Finally couldn't keep avoiding it.

Empty boxes -- Westin's fort.
He's sad every time one gets taken away to be packed.

Once packing started, my packing anxiety went way down.
A little each day and we're going to be fine.
Right?

This little cabinet made our Manchester apartment so happy,
and was always full here too somehow.
We sold it this weekend and I just feel happy about it.
I even told it thank you. I remember the first time I judged Marie Kondo for that part of her book a little...
Now I'm on board.

Facetiming sweet Elise

Lots to figure out

Empty and cleaned out,
ready for a new home.

We also sold the cupboard in our bathroom...

...and Westin pretended he was in a rocket ship,
right after watching the Spacex launch.

Feeling emptier in here.
Oh hey, Chaco.

Boxes large enough for sleeping in are currently being slept in.
By both boys. He really did take a nap like that.
They really are both asleep like that right now.

Another bedtime protest.