“Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,” ~ Emily Dickinson.

I always knew I would have children.  Lots of them.  I remember being quite young when I held a baby, she was about seven months old, and she promptly tried to bite my nose! When we moved from the UK to Jamaica, I was fortunate to quickly make friends with a girl my age, whose mother had just had a baby.  My friend, who was the oldest of three at that point (and baby made four) was unimpressed.  On the other hand, I was definitely the last of my crew, and my mother had no intention of providing me with any baby brothers or sisters.  Over the next few years my friend’s mother provided two more babies for me to play with and practice on.

By the time I had my own babies I had had plenty of experience.  My last clinical rotation in nursing school was in the Maternity Hospital, so I was well trained in bathing and swaddling; in caring for the umbilicus; in being comfortable with a dependent, fragile infant.  My older sisters had also given me an assortment of nieces and nephews by then, and concepts like breastfeeding were not seen as optional, but the natural thing to do.

In England the day to celebrate Mothers used to known as ‘Mothering Sunday’, which, although it sounds a little strange, is way more inclusive.  It suggests that the act of being a mother is not restricted to only those who gave birth.  When I was planning for my large family (in the end I had four children), I never questioned whether it would happen.  Nor did I wonder whether I wanted to put it off while pursuing a career.  And yet for more than ten percent of women in the US, getting pregnant or staying pregnant is a challenge, a heartbreaking situation that they have to live with.  Surprisingly, almost 50% of adults under 50 who don’t already have kids, say they don’t plan to have kids either, so the fertility rate in the US is currently on the decline.

I am told that one of the challenges of undergoing fertility treatment in the US (apart from the staggering cost, which is not covered by health insurance) is the uncertainty of the results.  The process is quite complicated, with uncomfortable procedures and daily injections.  With a success rate of between 20 and 35% for the first attempt, the outcome is not assured.  And so you have to be prepared for disappointment.  Yet hope.

I have been thinking about hope recently.  My alumni association attended our annual church service a few weeks ago, and being the first Sunday in a month dedicated to love (and in the US Black History, although we have an administration that is trying desperately to eradicate all references to identities other than white heterosexual male) the sermon was based on the New Testament verse taken from I Corinthians 13, in particular verse 13 which begins: ‘And now these three remain: faith, hope and love…’  The pastor pointed out that, strangely enough, the writer of the verses had not mentioned faith or hope in any of the preceding twelve verses, which sent me wondering.  Faith is definitely much mentioned in the New Testament, since it is one of the founding principles upon which Christianity is founded.  You have to have faith, to believe in the resurrection of Christ, to have faith that all that is promised for believing in the Holy Trinity will come to pass.  Yet what of hope?

It is interesting to compare these concepts of believing in or confidently expecting that good things will happen with the Buddhist practice of acceptance.  In the Buddhist way you are encouraged not to see things as good or bad, but just as experiences.  If you are too attached to outcomes you will have to deal with extremes, either joy at successes or pain and sadness at disappointments.  If instead you accept either outcome as part of life, you can face anything with equanimity. 

Our present political climate is challenging to say the least.  A wrecking ball is being taken to programs that affect many people’s lives around the globe.  Life-saving food and medications are sitting at ports, while real live children are in need; families are suffering.  Are we prepared for the scenes of starvation and death that will follow?  At home research into life-threatening diseases is halted; potential treatment for cancers and chronic diseases that can affect you may be lost.  And we are unclear on what may be happening with our personal data.  What is next? 

It is very difficult to practice a Zen-like acceptance when listening to the constant barrage of ‘breaking news’, hearing the latest bizarre statement or destructive act with rippling consequences.  It is easy to fall into a sense of hopelessness and powerlessness as yet another seemingly illegal or unconstitutional step is taken.  I have decided to choose hope as my new mantra.  A hope that, finally, the majority of the population will realize the worth of a democracy that values all life; that views all people as created equal; that cares for the least of these my brethren, and rises up to demand respect for the rule of law and the constitution.

I recently read (and now cannot find) a poem that described a writer visiting an art museum.  She paid attention to each painting, and was inspired, all her senses came alive.  When she left the museum she realized that she was now seeing the world in a different way, the scenes in front of her could have been art on a canvas: a tree here, a child there, and the poem concluded with the line: Art is whatever you put a frame on.  Perhaps that is what hope does.  It allows us to look for and find beauty around us; goodness in people’s hearts; a potential for healing; the success of our better angels.

This Friday morning I choose to be hopeful, to look for the signs of resistance and advocacy.  I choose to see beauty in nature and in people.  I choose to be confidently expectant, trusting that (as MLK Jr said) the arc of the universe is long, but bends towards justice.  Of course, this hope has to be backed up by practice, or it is empty.  And please remember to have compassion for those who mother without having given birth, they are some of the best mothers in the world.

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love!

Namaste.