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Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

Mother's Day

What kind of mother would do that?

May 8, 2015

I’d like to think that the longer I’ve been a mother, the more forgiving I am of other mothers. (And of myself, if I’m honest. I’m my own harshest critic.)

Some days, I am. Other days, I’m just as critical as ever. In an effort to justify my own choices in motherhood, my own parenting policies, I judge another mother’s decisions as if there is one right way to do this whole motherhood gig.

News flash: there just isn’t.

I hear the same plea for acceptance from the mom who homeschools as I do from the mom whose kids go to public school, from the mom whose kids are close in age and from the mom whose kids have a bigger age range. Whether we’re swimming in money or struggling to make ends meet, all the moms I know want what’s best for the kids, and I know that no matter what it looks like, love drives those decisions.

Where I struggle to find the same kind of compassion and identification is with moms around the world. (I’m hoping our trip to Kenya this summer will show me how universal motherhood is no matter our place on the planet.) Especially when it comes to stories where kids have been sold into unspeakable situations. Sex trafficking. Slavery. Debt bondage.

How could they do that? I think. What kind of mother would sell her children?

Maybe you read the news or Facebook posts with the same questions hovering in your brain.

I’m so thankful for the folks at The Exodus Road who can take those tough questions and give us a glimpse of an answer. What follows is a partial repost of blog written by Laura Parker of The Exodus Road. In it, she addresses the circumstances that led to the rescue of a 15-year-old girl (Sarah, though not her real name) in 2012. You can read Sarah’s story here.

mother-child

“As mothers in a first world country, we understand that there are resources that can put food on the table, that can protect us when natural disaster strikes, that will help pay the doctor’s bills.

We live in the reality of free public education, a democratic government with laws and a police force that seeks to protect our little ones. We can afford basic vaccinations, and we do not live in fear of a mosquito bite or dirty water or stomach worms that can eat a person from the inside out.

We parents in the West have also been born into a culture where women have incredible value, where females are seen (theoretically) as equals, and where an infant girl is just as celebrated as a newborn baby boy.

But, this, this, is not the reality of most mothers around the world. Many women in developing countries taste the fear and desperation of motherhood on an entirely different playing field than we mothers in the first world do. And while these third world moms are often noble, strong, and brave beyond belief, they still have to look into the eyes of their small ones with the understanding that there are too many mouths and not enough rice.

And extreme poverty forces a parent to make extreme decisions. For good or for bad, people are in large part products of their environments.

And this decision by Sarah’s mother? Well, we don’t know what factors played a part in the unfolding of it. It could have been made out of ignorance or deceit, out of a deeply-seated cultural belief about girls, or even out of a desire to protect the survival of several siblings with the sacrifice of one.

And while I’m not saying that Sarah’s mother was justified, that her decision to sell her 15-year-old’s virginity was acceptable, I am saying that even Sarah’s mother deserves our compassion, too.

Because were she born into a different country, under better circumstances, chances are Sarah wouldn’t have tasted life in a brothel, at the hands of systems that made such a horrific decision feel like the best one.”

–       Laura Parker  |  2012  | The Exodus Road

—

I thought of this post as we approach Mother’s Day this weekend, and while it’s not your typical Mother’s Day topic, I think it’s an important time to remember the struggles of mothers of all kinds. And that we can give ourselves, the moms we know and the moms we don’t, a lot of grace for the grueling, gratifying work of motherhood.

And maybe thinking about moms whose choices are not simple will move us beyond compassion and lead us to make a difference.

That’s why I blog monthly for The Exodus Road. To remind you that slavery is a real part of the world we live in. To tell stories of rescue and freedom and bravery. To remind myself that my problems are not the only ones that matter. And to encourage us all to do something–tell, share, give–in the support of freedom from modern-day slavery.

The Exodus Road has lots of ways to get involved. You can check them out here.

Filed Under: Children & motherhood, the exodus road Tagged With: Mother's Day, motherhood, the exodus road, trafficking, worldwide motherhood

Mother Ship by Melody Murray

May 12, 2013

This is the final in a series of posts for Mother’s Day. Be sure to enter the drawing at the bottom of the page!

Pearl Girls McSweeneyWelcome to Pearl Girls™ Mother of Pearl Mother’s Day blog series—a nine-day celebration of moms and mothering. Each day will feature a new post by some of today’s best writers (Tricia Goyer, Lisa Takeuchi Cullen, Beth Vogt, Lesli Westfall, and more). I hope you’ll join us each day for another unique perspective on Mother’s Day.

AND . . . do enter the contest for a chance to win a beautiful handcrafted pearl necklace and a JOYN India bag. Enter at the bottom of this post. The contest runs 5/4-5/13, and the winner will be announced on 5/14. Contest is only open to U.S. residents.

If you are unfamiliar with Pearl Girls™, please visit www.pearlgirls.info, subscribe to our blog, and see what we’re all about. In short, we exist to support the work of charities that help women and children in the US and around the globe. Consider purchasing a copy of Mother of Pearl: Luminous Lessons and Iridescent Faith to help support Pearl Girls™.

And to all you MOMS out there, Happy Mother’s Day!
~

Mother Ship by Melody Murray

Mother Ship (N.) – a ship that serves or carries one or more smaller ships.

Raising two boys in India is quite nice, really. We have monkeys, scooters, plenty of dirt, and mountains. The challenges are comical. I found very quickly on that if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry. It’s been an excellent motto for our three years thus far, one I learned shortly after our arrival here in June of 2010.

We’d been in India for just three days when I had my first major meltdown. Our two boys, ages three and four, were sitting in big plastic buckets in our smelly bathroom, covered with mosquito bites, jetlagged as can be. I was frantically pouring cold water over them, trying to scrub off the India grime that had caked on their scrawny little bodies. I was having to hold them like puppy dogs so they wouldn’t scurry out from underneath the cold water. It was a far cry from the sweet, warm, bubbly, happy bath time we’d experienced together for the past four years in the States! Talk about culture shock. They were in shock. I was in shock. I’m sure the neighbors were in shock, too. I’m not sure my boys have ever seen me scream, cry, and stomp that much. Thank God it is just a memory now.

Somehow, by God’s grace, we’ve figured out life here. It looks much different than I had ever thought it would look, especially as a mother. We don’t go to the library, make elaborate crafts, play T-ball, shop at Target, sing in church choir, or take family bike rides. I have had to redefine my ideal upbringing for my children and have had to let go of many expectations. But I’ve managed to grasp hold of a new set of dreams.

My children are global kids. They have an incredible adventure every day. They see the “majority world” firsthand. I think they are some of the most privileged kids I know. I’ve stopped feeling sorry for myself that my kids don’t get to go to ballgames or have a huge tree house or wear cute clothes. Why focus on what I think they’ve lost, only to lose sight of what they’re gaining?

murraypg

My attitude shift didn’t come easily. I can be quite stubborn. I clung to what I knew and what I thought was “normal” and “right,” as all of us moms do. I’d cry after phone conversations with friends back home who had their children signed up for karate, soccer, and swim lessons, with loads of choices for good schools, churches, and neighborhoods. I had nothing of the sort available for my kids, and I felt bitter and resentful.

But then I slowly began to change. Slowly, after months of getting over culture shock and cold baths, we began to love this place and the people we were with. We began to know them, understand them, become like them. Our community here became our family. Just this week, I’ve been sick with an awful kidney infection, and my living room has been full of my Tibetan, Nepali, and Indian friends, bringing me food, rubbing my feet, playing with my children, washing my dishes. I’ve never experienced community in this way before. My boys are loved so well by so many. And they are learning how to love back, even when it’s not easy.

My attitude shift didn’t come quickly, but when it happened, it took a 180°. I realized how wrong I’d been. These people I live with—their kids don’t have organized sports, church choirs, or fancy vacations either. Their kids aren’t signed up for after-school activities and aren’t becoming multi-skilled elementary school prodigies. Yet, in spite of this, they are content. Like none I’ve ever seen. They love each other. Like none I’ve ever seen. They have very little, yet they have so very much.

In the western world of comparisons and endless striving, I believe we sometimes lose touch of the things we actually care most about. I know most of us moms actually don’t care whether our children are the best at T-ball or whether their crafts look better than the next kid’s. But I think we all care deeply that our kids are loved, and that they know how to love. We all have a common dream that our kids will grow up to be world-changers, to strive for what is right, to love the unloved, to see the world in a different way. These are the deepest dreams of moms. So let’s not forget that the most important things we can give our kids are not the things we can buy them or sign them up for. One of the greatest gifts we can give to our children is to give them sails, let them explore new things, meet new people, and learn to make lasting change in this world.

So join me this Mother’s Day. Let’s all be “mother ships,” leading our kids to new adventures, new beginnings, new relationships. Let’s serve and carry our little ones to places they can only dream of, whether it be making dinner for a neighbor, smiling at the homeless man in front of the grocery store, volunteering at a soup kitchen, or moving to India. Let’s take them with us and teach them how to sail.

“A ship in port is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.” —Grace Murray Hopper

###

068In June 2010, an opportunity arose to work with a small needy community in the Himalayas, so David and Melody Murray and their two young boys packed their bags and moved to Rajpur, North India. Mel has grown JOYN, fulfilling her passion to connect artisans with western markets. They now have a diverse and growing team of Americans, Australians, Indians, Tibetans and Nepalis working together to create a community that strives to take care of each other and bring opportunity to as many as they can. Visit her website for more information.
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Filed Under: Children & motherhood, holidays Tagged With: JOYN, melody murray, mother of pearl blogging series, Mother's Day, pearl girls

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Hi. I’m Lisa, and I’m glad you’re here. If we were meeting in real life, I’d offer you something to eat or drink while we sat on the porch letting the conversation wander as it does. That’s a little bit what this space is like. We talk about books and family and travel and food and running, whatever I might encounter in world. I’m looking for the beauty in the midst of it all, even the tough stuff. (You’ll find a lot of that here, too.) Thanks for stopping by. Stay as long as you like.

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