A prayer for the mother of a white son

God, the loving Mother of all,

Thank you for this little incarnate grace entrusted to my care.

Grant me grace to show my boy deep tenderness, that he might show it to others in turn.

Sustain calmness and radical mindfulness in our home, that he might resist the temptation to prove himself by busyness and accomplishment.

Grant me the discipline and discernment to care for him and grant his desires without catering to his every whim, that he might appropriately deny his more destructive desires of body and power.

Bring clarity in my identity and persistence in my calling, that he would witness and respect the power and personhood of women.

Grant me empathy, that I might remember that he is but one beloved child among millions, all equally precious and deserving, and humility to recognize that even his precarious moments occur in privilege and safety.

Strengthen my resolve and attention in his formation, that we would both grow in the knowledge and practice of justice that takes place in the details.

Remind me that Jesus, your son, a brown skinned refugee child, killed by the state, calls me to divest myself of power and work for change, and raise this white son to do the same.

Amen.

Just a little grounding love wisdom

When I neared the end of my pregnancy with S., I had this horrible thing called prodromal labor. Basically this means that for the last three weeks of pregnancy, I would have contractions off an on, ten minutes apart and lasting for hours (even a day or two) that would suddenly… stop. Nothing.

If you haven’t had this, there is absolutely no way to explain how maddening and exhausting it is.

The midwives cheerfully told me that my body was hard at work and the baby would come in time. Yeah yeah yeah. They said, “If you think you’re in labor, go for a walk. Then drink a big glass of water and eat a snack. Take a bath. Take a nap. Then wait. And then, if things are still happening, you might be in labor.”

This was the most annoyingly simple, obvious, and profound advice. And as much as I spiraled through emotions, bouncing myself silly on a labor ball, absolutely willing that baby out, this list of fundamental mind-body caretaking never failed in revealing what was happening. And of course, eventually I did all these things, the contractions continued on, and I had a baby the next morning.

Aside from the temporary plague of prodromal labor, I also contend with a more long-standing struggle with anxiety and Really Big Emotions. When things are a little out of balance and I’m not caring for myself, anxious thoughts and Big Emotions can feel like reality (when they’re usually just, well, thoughts and emotions). Over the last several months when I feel this coming, I return to the midwives’ advice, and in these small acts of bodily nurture, I can listen to my spirit, hone back in on wise mind, and see what is really happening.

So, how are you doing? Is it too much to manage? Does it feel like things are out of control or changing too fast?

Go for a walk.
Drink a big glass of water.
Eat a snack.
Take a bath.
Take a nap.
Wait.

Nurture your flesh. Listen to your spirit, the Spirit.

Diffusing some Grounding essential oil blend: white fir, spruce, ylang ylang, pine, cedarwood, angelica, juniper