R U ready to be a Champion of Justice?

Champions of Justice.  This is what the Universal House of Justice (the international governing body of the Baha'is) asks us to be. What does champion mean?   Champion- someone who fights or speaks publicly in support of a person, belief, cause, etc. 

After my visit the other day and our sharing about what alcoholism and addiction is doing to our family and our friends, I have to say we as a Baha'i community could be doing more to support individuals, families and communities in their struggles. It is a law of our Faith to be alcohol and drug free. But what does that mean when we live in a society that alcoholism and addictions surround us? On some levels there is still great shame about these diseases as individuals struggle with Recovery and relapse. That's why AA is Alcoholics Anonymous.  Because there was in the past tremendous shame about these diseases. 

Living in Indian Country anonymous doesn't really work. In tiny Baha'i communities it doesn't work either. EVERYONE knows who is struggling. Everyone. Only in the past couple years as I have used Al-Anon in my life did it occur to me in my almost 40 years of being a Baha'i that never have I heard alcoholism or addiction formally discussed within a Baha'i community. Why is that?

As a person who comes from Indian Country where we are genetically predisposed to Addiction and where the consequences of historical trauma still are felt daily through Racism, poverty, violence, lack of access to education, it's a bit bewildering. How are we as Baha'is systematically assisting our own members who struggle with Alcoholism and Addiction?  Do we hide in shame? Are we paralyzed by guilt?  Do we somehow feel unworthy because our parent, sibling or child is an alcoholic or an addict? 

I have had Baha'i friends thank me privately for my writing about Al-Anon because they have loved ones who struggle. I think it is long over due that we as a community talk about alcoholism and addiction and what are ways we can help families today and what are some long term plans and goals to help families in 5 years, in 10 years. If we don't have a goal, we will NEVER achieve progress. 

Let's be Champions of Justice. Let's look to the Sacred Writings and find ways to help families. I heard some people respond with "let's pray for them". I say let's use the Revelation and Teachings of Baha'u'llah and our principle of the harmony of science and religion and begin to use some science along with our prayers. 

If you have a family member past or present struggling I challenge you to be a Champion of Justice. Find someone in your life to talk to about this need in our community and take some action. It could be to buy some Al-Anon books and keep them at Baha'i Feast. Or to keep a list of local meetings and phone meetings posted in a Baha'i space. 

There is absolutely no excuse for us not to be proactive in helping families. There is no place for denial, shame or guilt in our Baha'i community. We are here to help heal the world. And it's by being Champions and speaking up that we will change the world. 

Ferries, potholes, the mythic and the mystical.

Yesterday was an odd day.  Usually when I start a day off with a plan everything goes smoothly and I'm grateful for the insights and experiences I gain. But yesterday there seemed to be potholes, what I call those life events that can effect our day anywhere from having to swerve a little to avoid them or the ones that seem to swallow the car and kill a tire and take up the whole day.

My first pothole happened as I was running a little behind to catch the ferry to Seattle to go to the Seattle Art Museum library. As I was driving down the road in the steady rain,  I was debating whether or not if I had enough time to park my car and walk on or if I should just drive on, besides it was raining, really raining. The difference is about about $35, to park and walk on costs $20 to drive on and park in Seattle costs at least $55. So I decided I'd park and walk on.  Besides I had dressed for the rain, rain proof boots and my waterproof jacket, a little rain wouldn't hurt. 

As I turned into the parking lot it was completely full!  It took me a few moments to realize I'd never seen it this full in the two years I'd lived here and then I saw people walking with Mariners caps on.  So I decided to drive on the ferry, it was that or go home.  By the time I made it out of the parking lot full of other cars doing the same thing I was and got in line, the ferry was full. I was about 10 cars too late. If I hadn't decided to try to park, I would have made the 11:30 ferry. Darn!  So now I had an hour to kill.  

I would be on the 12:20 ferry.  It was a little disappointing, I was excited to go to the Seattle Art Museum library and research the Native Art in their permanent collection.   The library is only open to the public Wednesday-Friday 10-4 pm.  This would just shorten my time in the library after a quick appointment. (I've been searching for someone I like near home for eyebrow waxing, but haven't found one, so I go to Nordstrom Spa in the mean time. Chuckles.)  I'd arrive about 12:55 and I'd have 20 minutes to drive to my 1:15 appointment at 6th and Pine.  I called ahead to let them know I may run a few minutes behind. 

I've learned when my plans change unexpectedly to just shift gears, go with the flow and keep my head up looking for things I wouldn't see otherwise.  So I decided to walk to Blackbird Bakery (0.46 miles thanks to my watch/pedometer) to buy my favorite gluten free chocolate chip cookies. It was a nice walk in the rain. But I misjudged how long it would take me and I had to jog back to my car and jump in as people were waiting for me to load!  

Eek. I was only a few cars late. I felt bad, but not long ago I would have felt terrible guilt about making others wait for me.  And I do wish I could apologize. But I didn't let the guilt ruin my day or make me feel bad about myself. Life has taught me people make mistakes. And it's ok.  We can't be perfect. I try to be gracious when others make a mistake, but it takes a little more work to be as gracious with myself. I am constantly learning more skill not to put pressure on myself to be perfect, a terrible consequence of having a hero role in an unhealthy family system. 

I made my appointment with a few minutes to spare. And I arrived at the SAM library a little after 2 o'clock. I was just a bit shocked to see a sign on the door saying the library would be closed to the public on Wednesday July 23. I opened the door and went in while trying to figure out what day it was!  Realizing it was today.

Pot hole Number 2!  My first reaction was extreme disappointment. I'd been planning all week to go to the SAM library and begin research. It's no small thing to schedule a date, invest my day and the cost of travel to get into the City. I wasn't sure when I could come back.   Maybe Friday, but next Wednesday-Friday one of my closest friends is coming to visit and the week after that I'll be in Anchorage, so it could be in 3 weeks!  I have learned that rules can be slightly bent depending on who you talk to. I noticed someone sitting at a table reading and decided I would sit and read until someone showed up.

The first person I talked to (an employee with a badge) came in and didn't know the library was closed until reading the sign on the door. I told her my predicament, that I come in from Suquamish and it's not easy to get here and if she didn't mind I'd just read off the Modernism in the Pacific Northwest display shelf (no restacking necessary). She said she didn't see why not. 

I picked up a book, Tobey is 80: a Retrospective. I skimmed through the plates (pictures) of artwork and began to read. The foreword is by John Fuller the first director of the SAM. The essay accompanying the text is by Betty Bowen, who I only know through a grant in her name.  I have learned about John Fuller from my tour with Modernism in the Pacific Northwest : The Mythic and the Mystical.  He was instrumental in patronizing (does that work in this context? Lol) Mark Tobey. He bought Tobey's work throughout his career and during the Depression when artists were desperate for work.  

Betty Bowen writes, "The Pike Place Market, a colorful farmers' market in downtown Seattle, had always been "the heart of Seattle" to Tobey - a slice of the Kingdom of God, reflecting his Baha'i Faith in the oneness of all earth's creatures."  Reading about Mr. Tobey's love for the Pike Place Market and how he sees it as a slice of the Kingdom of God is such a precious moment for me.  To get to know an artist and his work who shares my same passions, to express himself and his perspective in this vast and miraculous world and that he loves the Teachings of Baha'u'llah, too.  

I don't know if I would have picked up this book if the library hadn't been closed. I was set on starting to read profiles on the Native Art pieces in the permanent collection, like the Íxt'i Xook Gwalaa/Emaciated Shaman Dagger or the Soul Catcher. Because it was closed I chose to spend my precious time in the library reading about Mark Tobey.  Baha'is believe there is an existence after death. Indians believe Ancestors and those in heaven have a direct impact on our lives.  In an exhibit The Mythic and the Mystical is it too much to wonder if Mark Tobey is sending a guiding light on my journey?  Lol.  What a life to choose, to be an artist is not an easy path.  To see his body of work reviewed when he was 80 years old!  I guess it reminds me that we should follow our passions. We have our whole life ahead of us. I have 40 years left until I turn 80, plenty of time to follow my dreams. 

And just to speak on Synchronicity once more. After finishing at the library I was feeling a little light headed. So I went down to Taste to eat. And decided to catch a ferry home immediately after. It took forever to move a few blocks on 2nd Avenue to get to Madison to head to the ferry. I imagined getting to the ferry line and waiting for a ferry or two, like I did not too long ago. As I inched down 2nd avenue at 5 o'clock I wasn't sure when I'd get home. But as I drove through the ferry ticketing I was thoroughly surprised when he said we'll try to load you on the 5:30, we're still loading. Chuckles. I was the 3rd to the last car.  Sometimes you are meant to catch the ferry and sometimes you just aren't. Chuckles.

Peace in my heart. Prosperity in my home.

Peace and prosperity. That is my goal.  To live in peace and prosperity. I grew up pretty poor.  I just didn't realize it for a long time. And I didn't know that my parents had grown up with way less than I did and both struggled with hunger as children.  My grandparents were also poor as children. My Great Grandmother Susie told my mother growing up that we were from nobility. So at some point my family did experience prosperity. And I interpret that to mean enough food, a home, and the basics needed to survive and to thrive.

As you know I've been thinking about what peace and prosperity means to me in a world bombarded by materialism and the cancer of consumerism while at the same time children across the globe don't have enough food to eat or schools to go to.  Yes, there are hungry kids in our hometowns and college is so expensive it seems like indentured service.  Be the change you want to see in the world.  I guess for me it really starts in my heart, in my home.

This Fall it will be 6 years since when I had to make a life changing decision to choose Peace. It was a challenge to walk away from an illusion of financial security, one that I had just invested 8 years of my life in.  Surviving my spouse being absent for 8 years in medical school and residency, while I was raising our children was the hardest challenge I'd ever been given.  The promise of a future with financial security and freedom got me through those difficult years. 

To realize at the end I had to cut my losses and walk away was very difficult. I walked away without a home, without my education being finished, and with the majority of the responsibility of caring for my daughters and a very unsure financial future.  As I prayed about it, to leave a marriage that was sick and was hurting all of us, including him, and to begin a path of being solely responsible in sheltering my precious daughters, I was anxious. But as I prayed I was sent a message that the Creator is the Ultimate Provider. That as I chose peace in my home, that I chose to model peace for my girls, the Creator would send what we needed. 

Every morning waking in a home free from violence is a precious gift. I had lived in an unsafe home for so long, I had slowly, over the years become some version of myself that could survive in that environment. The real me, seemed to be hidden away somewhere. The last 6 years have been a journey of letting my true self out of where she had hidden.  I have sheltered my dear sweet girls alone. Yes, their father contributes financially and for that I am grateful to the Creator, but the work that raising two girls require demands quite a lot from me.  

I live in peace. I live in a home where each of us is respected, loved and cherished. Not where one person unfairly dominates all the others. I live in a home where we praise and encourage each other, not criticize and blame.  I live in a home where we encourage each other to try new things, not fear mistakes or fear the consequences of violence for making a mistake. 

So I have built peace in my life. Building prosperity is a little trickier. What do I think prosperity is?  Is it home ownership? An college education? A good job?  Chuckles. Well, I have to think a little creatively. For now prosperity means being able to feed my girls, give them a safe home and to help them thrive and become the best human beings they have the potential to become. College, a job and home ownership will come down the road. 

My time on the Canoe Journey and in Bella Bella reminded me just how wealthy I am. The spiritual values I was raised with in the Indian Community and through my family's Faith cannot be bought. We are One Human Family. All we have, has been given to us by the Creator in stewardship for our future generations.  By honoring and respecting ourselves and our Communities, we build peace and healthy ways of life. Love is what heals the heart. One heart at a time we will build world peace. We will build a world of prosperity. 

"O My Servant!  

     The best of men are they that earn a livelihood by their calling and spend upon themselves and upon their kindred for the love of God, The Lord of all the worlds." - Baha'u'llah 

At.óow, Sacred Objects, the Spirit Within and listening to the Ancestors speak to me...

And the story continues...

     Yesterday I was looking for something in the living room, and while I was searching, a book on the shelf caught my eye, the Spirit Within.  I literally laughed out. I have been thinking about buying this book for a while and just looked on Amazon the day before.  I hadn't realized it was in my Mom's collection!  On my short visit to the Seattle Art Museum on Friday, I bought another book, Tangible Visions, Northwest Coast Indian Shamanism and It's Art, because I couldn't find The Spirit Within.  

    The Spirit Within was published by the SAM in 1995 (and it's out of print) on its Northwest Coast Native American galleries.  As I opened up the book, I opened to a section from Nora Marks Dauenhauer on at.óow.  She  explains different aspects of the at.óow, and this passage hit home.

 " For example, a member of the Lukaax.ádi clan from Haines will know and recognize the Íxt'i Xook Gwalaa (Emaciated Shaman Dagger) as our at.óow, with our shuká and shagóon, our past and our future, on it.  We also know that the name Saayina.aat is still carried by one of our women.  If the dagger were still in the family, the women of the Lukaax.ádi as well as anyone connected to it by genealogy,  whether Eagle or Raven, would give or be given spiritual strength and well-being by seeing it, especially in ritual display.  As it is now, the spiritual connection is absent from the clan of its origin, along with the spiritual well-being it once provided.  This is the importance of our art and our at.óow."  P. 23

     This understanding that sacred objects owned by Clans, passed down through generations of guardians, only brought out on special occasions, are believed to give spiritual strength and well-being to descendants of the Clan by seeing it explains a lot to me.  When I first visited the Seattle Art Museum in August 2012, I was immediately drawn to the Tlingit and Tsimshian pieces.  I posted photos of a Tsimshian Soul Catcher, a Klukwan Frog housescreen and a brown Bear Staff from Angoon.  Every time I visit the SAM, I try to walk through the Native Art galleries.  To me it's like visiting family heirlooms. They flame a sense of honor and nobility within my heart. That the People I am descended from were such Master artists gives me a strong sense of pride. I know these objects were collected and sent to museums across the globe.  Our Art is cherished by Art lovers throughout the world.

     

    This explanation of the role these sacred objects play in our lives tells me why my heart longs to see these objects. They have for generations been a part of our spiritual lives. Now the Western trained part of my mind may question how can this be?  How can objects give spiritual strength and well-being?  But the Indian trained part of my mind also knows that the Universe includes spiritual, mystic forces that defy Western beliefs.  Every time I see these objects and the other Tlingit and Tsimshian objects in the SAM, my heart is happy and I feel stronger.

     Now thinking more on the mystical side is it possible these at.óow also long to see me?  After being in close company of our Clans for generations, to be housed so far from home and far from their Clans, to be visited by a descendent and to be talked to with love and endearments?  I hope so!  Or maybe it is the joy of the Ancestors I can feel, that their cherished objects are being visited by a descendant and whispered words of Tlingit.  

     I am ending with a prayer that I turn to when I need strength and well-being. In it describes the connection we have with those in the Next World and the powers of the spiritual realm that can be given to us. 

      O LORD! Help this daughter of the Kingdom to be exalted in both worlds; cause her to turn away from this mortal world of dust and from those who have set their hearts thereon and enable her to have communion and close association with the world of immortality. Give her heavenly power and strengthen her through the breaths of the Holy Spirit that she may arise to serve Thee. Thou art the Mighty One. - 'Abdu'l-Baha

My Passion for Art & Indian Country and the Blessings sent by my Ancestors

     If I thought I couldn't find words to describe the last couple weeks and all the amazing experiences I've had, I am truly stunned by what took place yesterday.  Starting with watching Celebration online, spending two nights in Seattle with my girls on a lovely stay-cation, witnessing the Suquamish Tribe's Ceremony to honor the Killer Whales, seeing the Suquamish Canoes depart for a 500 mile 3 week trip to Bella Bella, hearing the power of amazing drums at the Muckleshoot pow wow and visiting an exhibit of art based on Social Justice by Latoya Ruby Frazier at the SAM.         

     Watching Celebration online for 3 days actually left me feeling high.  Hearing Tlingit spoken, listening to stories of songs and stories of our history that are generations old, seeing so many children speaking Tlingit, and witnessing the wealth of our Peoples made my heart so happy.  I am so grateful I took Tlingit language in college, because now I have some hope of understanding what is being shared, even a tiny bit.  When I watched how much wisdom and knowledge our Peoples possess, I was confident that it is only a matter of time when we reach a point of healing historical trauma that enables us to quickly rebuild our Communities. 

     Witnessing Suquamish's powerful and eloquent honoring of the visits of the killer whales again was a symbol of strength, true wealth and healing of historic trauma. Knowing that Indian dancing and ceremonies were at one time illegal and today we are reviving these Ancient and Sacred traditions, it heals an injury that hurt our preceding generations. The absence of our language, our songs and dances Robert Davidson eloquently carved in We Were Once Silenced.  We have had to slowly research and rebuild, our language, our songs and dances, our Art.

     Listening to the drums at the Muckleshoot Pow Wow is hard to describe.  But the power of the drums vibrate throughout your body.  My heart feels like it expands and a good song can transport you to another dimension.  Time can seem to stop. Seeing the dancers always leaves me amazed. Their strength and agility is magnificent. The Regalia always blows my mind, the sheer volume of talented artists and designers is incredible. Is there another group of people on Earth producing this much artwork simultaneously?

     These three events are proof that we in Indian Country are truly healing the historic trauma we have experienced since our Homelands have been invaded.  Our land, our ways of subsistence, our children and our way of life have all been stolen along this dark path. But we have survived. We self medicate the theft, poverty, racism, violence and grief and now have to deal with consequences of multi-generational addiction.  But even as we still feel the pain of the dark path, the bright Sun of a New Day is dawning. If you look closely you can see the re-birth of Sacred Traditions that heal and bring both prosperity and peace. When Indian Country heals so does the whole human family.

     Robert Davidson shares in the video accompanying Abstract Impulse that the Art, Songs, Dances, Language and Ceremonies are all interwoven. You cannot separate them.  In Tlingit the idea of At.woo from my understanding is objects become so Sacred that they not only represent the Ancestors, but it is believed they are the Ancestors. They are treated with the highest regard and kept safe, our precious treasures.

     So yesterday, Gunalcheesch to the Creator of the Universe and the Ancestors, I was in the presence of so many At.woo that I cannot describe it.  I believe in Synchronicity, that I will be exactly where I am meant to be when I am meant to be. So last Tuesday after a long full 3 days of fun-filled days in the Big City I was debating whether or not I could pull myself together for the Suquamish dinner for the Canoe Journey. I didn't even realize that there was a Ceremony planned, too.  After the honoring of the Killer Whales (my clan by the way, wink), I met Sven from the Burke Museum. He  invited me to come visit. I immediately, that night, emailed and we began discussing a good time for both of us.

     I didn't realized his invitation meant visiting the storage facility at the Burke.  As soon as he brought me in I was stunned by the number of bentwood boxes in front of me.  I recognized the age and period of some of the pieces from the SAM and the catalog of Abstract Impulse.  He and his colleague, Justin, were talking to me and my brain was completely at max capacity. I was trying to look at the precious treasure in front of me AND discern what they were saying. After I understood I was allowed to take pictures, I took photos of nine objects. The Sacred objects are stored in sliding shelves, huge ones, and I can't even remember all of the pieces I saw. It's a blur.  As each shelve was moved and a new shelf was accessed my brain seemed to slow down more and more!

     All day afterwards I felt like I was recovering from shock, not quite fully present. I immediately texted my Mom and sisters to tell them what happened. I called my Dad.  And this morning, I'm still processing one of the most wonderful blessings I have experienced in my life.  My personal journey of flaming my passion for Art and especially Art in Indian Country seems to have arrived at a new level.  

Father's Day is Complicated

     First I have to say Gunalcheesh to the Creator for sending me two fathers!  My biological father and my step father.  Both have made my life and my journey possible.  Looking back on my childhood is complicated because my parents are both Children of Alcoholics. Both of my grandfathers were alcoholic and abandoned their family at some point.  So both my mother and father grew up being raised by super human mothers. 

     Mothers in a time when women had limited choices of career and opportunities. Add on top of that being Indian Filipino women at a time when Racism was overt and painful.  Mom has 5 siblings. Dad has 6.  The stories of my parents and their fathers are mostly sad and full of absence.  Their mothers worked, one went to college, to support the children.  The kids had to watch and care for each other.  The older ones caring for the younger ones.  There were extended times of hunger and poverty was always a flood waiting to crest and fill their lives with crisis.  My Dad recently shared a story of his family living in Seattle as a child, with rats that would come out in the dark of the night. My Mom said this last Thanksgiving, "I don't have happy memories of Thanksgiving as a kid.  We were poor and hungry."

     My parents provided a home where both parents were present until I was about 17. I have fond memories of growing up surrounded by their families in Seattle and San Jose.  I am forever grateful for the absolutely phenomenal women I have the privilege to call Grandma. Both women showered unconditional love and supported us financially, supplementing what my parents could provide.   I have incredible Aunts and Uncles, 4 women and 7 men, who all made an impact on my childhood.  I grew up in a pod of killer whales and a full nest of eagles, my cousins. Neither of my parents drink alcohol, which has been a blessing which I am sure future descendants will honor as a miracle. 

     I grew up being told how smart and talented I was. My oldest memories are being with my family in Seattle (before we moved to San Jose was I was 5).  I remember leaving the Seattle Center once after losing a balloon. A cousin told me the full moon was my balloon following us home. Another memory is of an Uncle babysitting me on a beautiful sunny Seattle day.  In San Jose, an Uncle taught me the Hula and shared his passion for broadway musical albums and Diana Ross.  Their love continues to give me the courage and confidence today to say things I am not sure how others will respond to.  

     My parents separated when I was 17 and divorced soon after.  My sisters were 13 and 6 years old.  Our home had become like a chamber with less and less oxygen.  It was becoming more and more difficult to function.  When I heard that we were separating it felt like I was able to breathe for the first time in a very long time. It felt like I had been not breathing and I hadn't even realized it until the door was opened and air rushed in.

     My mother married again when I was 21. This brought a new father figure into my life. I was married myself several months later. Our Step Father is a perfect balance to our mother. His strengths complemented her weaknesses. And her strengths complemented his weaknesses.  Together they built a true fortress of well-being and it's been a refuge for all of us girls and our families for the last 19 years.  When my marriage was falling apart 13 years later, I took my children to my parents home a continent away when my home was no longer safe and we needed shelter.  Watching the difference of how they tackled disagreement, with consultation, prayer and respect was eye opening. It contrasted so strongly what I was surviving, I knew my marriage was sick. 

     Today my girls father is absent. It took me a good year to figure out after the divorce that being present in their lives was not his priority.  Al-Anon has helped me to understand that expectations leave a door open for disappointment. So I no longer expect him to be present. Al-Anon also taught me that I can't control another person and their choices, what I call "their side of the fence".  I can only control what's on my side of the fence.  So I do the best that I can to make sure that their needs as children are met. And my family supports me.  Yes, there are movements when it pisses me off to be left with the majority of the work that it takes to raise healthy and happy children.  But I don't dwell in anger or resentment (yes, he drives a $40,000 car and the girls don't take art classes, chuckles).  Al-Anon has given me a life free of Insanity.

     My spiritual belief is that the home of peace that I have created for my children is more important than the car I drive, or the clothes they wear, or that I struggle to make ends meet. My grandmothers raised amazing human beings while flooded with the consequences of extreme poverty.  My girls are blessed with a family who loves them exactly the way they are.  They have two grandfathers who love and support them. They have an Uncle who is present in our everyday lives, being a model of what a father and husband looks like when a family is healthy and happy.  They have Great Uncles who shower them with love and gifts.  And it's my prayer there is father on earth that will come in divine time who will love these precious daughters and who wants to be present in their lives everyday. 

     Gunalcheesh to the Creator. 

PS the photo is a House Screen, which symbolizes home and security for me.

Some thoughts after someone has shared their opinion I have a victim mentality! Chuckles.

     My decision to be a stay at home mother was made when my daughter was born in Spring 2001 and her father began medical school that Fall. I balanced the knowledge that he would be very focused for the next 7 plus years, and my most recent job was teaching pre-school in Headstart in a small town in Alaska. I understand the equation about how much salary a mother makes minus how much it costs to pay for child care while she works. I believe I was lucky enough to have a husband who agreed to the financial sacrifice and to live on a meager income on student loans and scholarships to support our small family. 

     Once my daughter was old enough, about 1 1/2,  I got a child care license and looked for a child to care for.  One child.  I felt it would give me just enough income to put food on the table and would be a good ratio for both kids.  I found a family whose father was in medical school and whose mother was working to support their family.  This little guy and his mother became like my family during the years I cared for him.  My daughter considered him her best friend.   We went to parks, to the library, we trekked to the nearby zoo, 45 minutes away.  And I quickly learned caring for two kids who play with each other is actually easier than caring for a single child.

     It was challenging supporting a spouse through medical school.  You know college, it seems like there is always more homework to be done.  It is never over.  My theory was the more I could care for our daughter and the household duties, the more he could study, meaning he would get a good residency placement and our futures would have many opportunities from this investment and sacrifice.  I did all the cooking, laundry, and most of the housekeeping. I did all of the child rearing.   I applied for food stamps when a fellow graduate student spouse informed me we were eligible because student loans is not considered income.  Every bit that added to the food on the table was worth the embarrassment and judgement of the social workers.  I figured we were tax paying citizens in the past and we would again both be in the future. But right now we needed help feeding our daughter.

     When he graduated from medical school, I took partial credit for his high GPA. How many other students had their own personal laundry service and chef for those four years?  Chuckles. And our daughter was well cared for. She was happy, smart and quite an artist even at 4 years old.  He got the residency match we chose. I decided if he was gonna be in a hospital for 80 hours a week for the next 3-4 years, I would rather stay at this hospital where my friends were, my support circle.  My daughter and I had a group of friends of mothers with young kids. Our Baha'i community was my family away from home.  I took my daughter every week to the Prayer Breakfast on Sundays.  It was one meal a week I didn't have to cook for those 8 years. And the Baha'is were so welcoming and embracing. I wouldn't have survived those 8 years without my girlfriends and their children.

     Now when I decided to have child number two I knew it was illogical. I was completely at capacity caring for the one child I had and my husband during a grueling medical education.  But my love for my siblings, my sisters, drove me to throw logic aside. I wanted my children to have the best friends that my sisters are to me.  And so during his first year of residency in January my second daughter was born.  About a year later, trying to balance a budget on a resident's salary, (we no longer qualified for food stamps! Yay) I began to watch a friend's newborn daughter 3 days a week , just 12 weeks old, while she worked.  (The little guy I had watched previously had moved when his father graduated) We had bought a condo thinking it was wiser than paying rent.  But the income was not meeting the expenses.  The eldest was in kindergarten. And the youngest now a toddler had a playmate as the sweet little baby grew.  

     In the 4th year of residency the marriage and our home life had become unmanageable, insane, as I have learned Al-Anon calls that state of living.  The difficulties had slowly escalated over the years.  We separated and eventually divorced as he graduated residency and began his career.  All the hard work and sacrifice I invested in his education, did not produce the returns I had hoped for our family.  I made the conscious decision if life was hell when $10 was being discussed, I knew life would still be hell when $10,000 was being discussed.  

     As I came to terms that the man I had loved for 13 years was no longer a man I could share a home with, when I had accepted that my marriage was not capable of being saved no matter how hard I tried, I shifted gears and focused on co-parenting our children.  I figured our eldest had about nine years of school left til she graduated and the youngest had her full 12 year school career ahead of her.  I visualized us living in the same city. And sharing parenting duties. 

     It took me about a full year to accept that that was not his plan.  He was not interested in being a present parent.  His priorities were elsewhere. So all of his parental duties fell on my shoulders. When our youngest started kindergarten I started taking classes at a local Univeristy.  I had a great time, being a social extravert, spending my days with other adults was such a great treat. I had been based from home for 10 years!!  I was studying psychology because the counseling I'd received throughout the separation and divorce had literally kept me sane!  One day when the kids were sick and I needed someone to watch them so I could go to class, their father refused saying he was too tired after driving twelve hours round trip to see his girlfriend.  It took me a full year to learn to stop asking him when the girls needed something, he always refused.  

   I have to be honest. This choice was actually the one that hurt my heart the most.  Not that we couldn't save the marriage. Not that he had other priorities higher than the care and needs of my children.  But after 8 years of sacrifice and supporting him during his education and caring for my two kids, he did not feel obligated to assist me when it was time for me to return to school. This was the greatest betrayal. He never missed a day of medical school or residency for 8 years or work for 3 years of his career because he had a sick child.  And he couldn't see that was because I was there for the kids.  What parent can say that?  11 years of not having to miss a day of work because of a sick child.

    As I finished a year of college while being a single parent, I knew I couldn't do the job of being the parent the girls needed while studying without more support. As I was deciding about moving closer to my family in another state, the girls' father called me to tell me he was getting married and moving to a city a 6 hour drive away.  My decision was easily made.

     Now I've been where I currently reside for two years. My original plan was to settle the girls into school and start classes in January. That plan was changed when my Step Dad had complications with cancer. And I decided we would rent a home with my parents and support them through cancer.  We had a wonderful 7 months living with Grandpa before he suddenly passed away. He had a high quality of life. The day before he passed away the family went out to brunch. The parents spent the afternoon roaming around Home Depot!  The time spent together is so precious. 

     Some people have criticized me for not taking responsibility for myself because I was not working or going to school. Some have said I have a victim mentality. These were the thoughts that made me start thinking about the journey and decisions that I have made that have brought me to today.  I disagree. I have taken responsibility for myself and for the two children I care for when another chooses to be absent.  I don't feel I am a victim. I feel I have been treated without basic consideration and respect without cooperation and compromise.  But I don't allow that any more.  I have learned how to build strong boundaries.  I don't expect their father to be present or invested in the girls lives. Because his choices have taught me not to.

    I do not regret my choice to be a stay at home mother.  It has been a sacrifice in many ways. Of studying and career building.  Of income.  My children are healthy and happy. They are loved, cared for and know they are cherished by me. They know they are a high priority in my life. And I know eventually the Creator will assist me when it is time for me to go back to school and be the parent these children need and deserve.  I don't regret my difficult marriage. It produced the precious sweet children who are the lights of my life. And I have Faith the Creator will send a partner who will love them and be present in their lives. 

    The artwork of the girls. Evidence of all my hard work and sacrifice!