Illness, home repairs, and despair over America’s current political antics descended on me like a heavy grey cloud this month. So, I missed the boat in posting a Valentine’s Day-related essay. Thankfully, I’m back in writing mode now, and the slightly longer days of sunlight and the first spring songs of birds have had a healing effect. Ultimately, I’ve decided it’s never too late to post a story about Love.
This month, I want to write about hope. (Because, after all, Love and Hope go hand in hand.) How do we find hope when the world seems bleak, whether you’re a child or an adult? More importantly, how can we adults leave legacies of hope for our children?
As I watch my grandchildren delight in achieving new milestones, like conquering walking, speaking clear words, or making new friends, my heart swells with happiness for them. I remember early moments of pure joy when I was a child, oblivious to the sadnesses and stresses of the world. But at some point, darkness can engulf you, and you may not know what to do. You hope that your parents will make it all go away.
When I was a kid, the Vietnam War was going on. I remember war being on the news every night as my parents silently watched the reports. I remember scenes of violence and asking why the neighbor across the street had a POW flag on their porch. An even earlier memory is of my mother sobbing on the couch and me running to comfort her, asking what was wrong. She explained that President Kennedy had been shot. I didn’t understand. I was afraid and powerless. All I could think of was to hug her and tell her I loved her.
I see now that my brothers and I were our parents’ hope, just as they were ours. We believed in our Love, home, and togetherness, which would get us through everything. This is the only legacy of hope that I can leave my own child and grandchildren. Just love one another, hold each other up in good times and bad times, keep believing in the world’s goodness, and do everything you can to surround yourself with Love and seek it.
Now, more than ever, it’s important to wear Love on our skins, to show acts of Love and tell people we love them, to let our lights shine and be beacons of hope. I know no other way to survive.
This week, I read that the actress/model/children’s author Julianne Moore has had her book, Freckleface Strawberry, banned by the Trump administration from schools run by the Department of Defense. Moore’s book is based on her childhood and promotes a theme of loving oneself just the way you are. She was devastated by the ban and can’t comprehend it, just as I’m sure other authors feel when their works appear on banned book lists. I can tell you banning a book only makes me more curious. Aren’t we supposed to be wiser and past all such nonsense? Where is our freedom of speech?
Needless to say, I’m ordering the Freckleface Strawberry book. This banned book business has to be stopped. I won’t be told what I can and cannot read, feel, and think. In fact, I will make a greater effort to read banned books this year. So there.
I asked my husband the other day how he finds hope when the world seems dark. He said he just knows that bad things don’t last forever, and he focuses on moving forward and savoring the good things that are all around him. He endures and plows forward. This is a simple answer, but one I needed to hear. I also know he speaks up when he feels something is wrong. He makes his opinion known, and he never misses an election. My husband is right. Bad things don’t last forever. Pendulums swing.
For this month’s book review, I’ve written about a wonderful children’s book that should be read by people of all ages: LOVE IN THE LIBRARY by Maggie Tokuda-Hall and illustrated by Yas Imamura. It’s a moving story about finding Love in a Japanese internment camp during World War II. Get your hankies out. It’s guaranteed to move you and leave you with hope. You can read more about it under Recommended Reads.
And under my Activities section, check out my Sow Some Seeds of Hope activity to welcome the coming Spring.
Little Seeds Read 