This morning, in the hallway, Joel bursts into tears after accidentally biting his finger (being two is rough in terms of unintentional self injury). Phoebe, laying on the carpeted floor is startled by the sudden loud noise of his crying and begins to slowly push her bottom lip into a pout - it's so sad to watch but it's also one of those cute baby things that makes you smile. Joel, being comforted by Mark notices that Phoebe is beginning to cry and mumbles some muffled words through his own tears, and runs to the living room. He grabs Phoebe's little cat doll (he always seems to keep track of exactly where it is), and as he runs back I finally understand what he was saying - "Phoebe's doll! Phoebe's doll!" he shouts repeatedly until he lays it down next to her and then collapses again into Mark to continue his cry. Mark and I "awwwwww!" to each other and cheer him on for his empathy. The cherry on top to this moment was Zoë, who heard the commotion and also came running with a small stuffed McDonald's happy meal toy that Joel has recently grown attached to in order to help comfort him.

When A Baby Shower Feels Like An Act of Defiance

It's a bright sunny day, a respite from the rain that our region has experienced recently. Years of drought followed by this much rain, though, would leave anyone longing for the warmth of sun-kissed skin. We in Southern California are welcoming this sunny day with a similar energy that those in the Midwest welcome the smell of spring thaw. 

I am running late on this Thursday morning, as usual. Every week, I try again to make it the week that we will pick up the Afghan women and their children on time. That we will install the extra car seat on time. That we will get them all to English class on time. Fact: this is pressure I put on myself, never pressure that these women put on me. I am an American of distant German descent; my life has often been run by the clock, but I am lousy at being on time.

Still, this Thursday morning is different. Today, class is canceled. Instead, there is a celebration to welcome two babies: one, a girl, growing large in my belly, and the other, a boy, growing large in the belly of his mother who came here from Afghanistan and has welcomed three other children before him. Together, the teachers and students in this class who represent Afghanistan, Syria, Canada, Turkey and the United States will throw a joint baby shower in honor of these babies who will both be U.S. citizens and share in the privileges thereby bestowed upon them. 

Thoughts on Dr. King and Violence/Nonviolence

"He was one of the great people in our country. He got his message across without burning the flag, without violence, without disrepect for others."

I saw the comment admittedly on a Facebook thread. I don't think of or recommend Facebook as a place for understanding the entirety of a person's experience, not by a long shot, but I have found it to be something of a place that can reveal more about people's intentions and thoughts than they may have intended to reveal, and I include myself in this.
This comment about Dr. King teetered on the edge of truth. And yet, something was off. Instead of centering the conversation on him, his legacy, his words, his sacrifice, his call for disruptive action...instead of all that, the words seemed to use him as a tool to cast thinly veiled judgment on something else. I fear that a point had been gravely missed, and this one comment is representative of more like it that conveniently ignore the fact that Dr King. wrote these words, too: