From my vantage point, perched in my usual seat at the counter of my local coffee shop, I get to watch a spider devour a mosquito. Congratulations to me.

This spider has been here as long as I have… I started coming to write every Wednesday morning a year ago this week. I didn’t realize spiders lived this long, let alone occupied the same corner of the window to terrify the writer on the other side of the glass. Thanks.

The world is filled with uncertainties. My mind dances between the chaos of everything going on: Washington, Israel, California, Sudan, and more… there is pain across the globe, and my heart is grieved. But then there is the here and now and a little boy who just turned six years old in my home, watching Star Wars for the first time and building Legos and driving his little sister crazy. There’s a whole personality developing in my two year old daughter who has learned to walk the balance beam and speak in complete (if hard-to-interpret) sentences and dance energetically to Winnie the Pooh. There’s the compelling plot in the novel I’m reading, the warmth of my husband’s hug when we both get safely home for the day, the aroma of Doro Wat simmering on the stove, the spider staring me down from this window corner. Just as much in the here and now occupies my mind.

I admire so deeply the activists. At heart, I’d like to think I am one, stirred to action when injustice occurs and galvanizing others to do the work of making things right. But moments like this often find me frozen, caught between the chaos of ALL that is happening and the here and now moments. In my paralysis, I recognize the sacrifices of the activists, the dedication to showing up, speaking out, sitting in, standing up— whatever it costs. There are so many statements being made on social media currently about being aware but guarding your peace; speaking out whatever it costs, but being present for your family because that’s what matters; the audacity of being self-centered and not paying attention to current events while just trying to keep daily rhythms going; social media makes an unfair job description for all of us that none of us can live up to.

I’ve heard someone talk about the quintessential instagram mom: the fictional composite of every woman you come across when scrolling instagram, turned into a homesteading, homeschooling, work-life balancing, bread-making CEO who has ten hobbies, a fabulous marriage, four perfect children, and a Goodreads annual reading goal of 120 books. I’ve seen her myself: she’s a monster and I want to be just like her. I’ve come to realize, however, that a social media composite activist exists as well: the person who not only does all of the above, but also leads the way in social justice movements, is aware of every.single. issue to be raised on every.single. news platform and has an opinion about it, cares about twelve different causes, donates to organizations for each cause, serves as a chief advocate for each of those causes, but also regularly speaks out about other issues that are not among her twelve, because they matter just as much.

I can’t be her. I want to, so badly, but I just… can’t. What does it look like to advocate for change, for justice, for human dignity while trying my best to raise tiny children and work in ministry and juggle all the other things in life?

There were rumors for a while that Black history month was not going to continue being officially recognized. While I’m thankful that those rumors either proved false or that the decision was ultimately reversed, it sparked a small revolution in my heart. I am not in a season where I can take to the streets in protest, and even boycotting has to be tailored to the economy right now. But I can teach my children Black history. (I realize this sounds an awful lot like virtue-signaling, but I want it to be clear where I stand.) So last week my son and I sat down with a stack of picture books that told the stories of Black people in history (and some alive now!), about their families, their personalities, the obstacles they faced and the triumphs they celebrated. We are slowly, gently, easing our way into a discussion of discrimination, hatred, love, and the God-given dignity of every human being.

I am new to and very imperfect at teaching my children these things; but I’ve learned a lot from some incredible authors, and I wholeheartedly recommend following them and reading their work:

• Amber O’Neal Johnston (Find her amazing education resources and more here)

• Danielle Coke Balfour (Find her hope-filled art and informative graphics here)

• Jasmine L. Holmes (Read her beautiful narratives of Black women through history)

• Jemar Tisby, PhD
  (Check out his incredible work writing about racial justice here)

There are a few things that are constant, regardless of what happens in the daily chaos of the world:

• Christ is on the throne

• Good is in the here and now and it’s worth paying attention to

• Community holds us together

• Small decisions are what drive change, and change is possible

• Doro Wat is delicious

• Stories matter

• We can’t care about everything equally, but we can make a difference with what we choose to care about

Chat soon, friends.

Robin

P.S. I get to write because of your generous contributions. If you are unable to become a paid subscriber, would you consider buying me a cup of coffee? This literally buys me time at my local coffee shop to write. Thanks for reading!