The Year of Mom

She doesn't read my blog unless I ask her to, so I feel at liberty to pay a little homage to my mother right now.

My mom has had quite a year. Actually, she's had quite a few years. Perhaps this is what happens, to women especially, when you get to be a certain age. She and my dad decided a few years back to help young men in prison who had recently become Christians. While I was initially skeptical, it has proven to be some experience. Not only have they been able to give a few guys a nice home this year while they got on their feet, they've more or less adopted one of these fellows as their own. He's the brother I never wanted! Of course my parents have done this together, but my mom (being a mom) has been the main supplier of love and patience to these guys.

At Easter we got a call, the kind of call you dread. My mom thought she might have breast cancer, then found out she actually did. I was a wreck-- there were plenty of phone calls between my sister and I punctuated with long sighs. But my mother was aces. She went through surgery and her radiation with no complaint; even though she went for treatments every day of the week for months she kept on with life as usual. I always knew she was a trooper, but this proved it for sure.

And she started running this year. I mean, the woman runs every morning which is more than I've ever done. She and my dad hiked like crazy this summer, even during her radiation. And her cancer treatment was over for hardly a week before she got a new job. Not the typical grandma, but she is a good Noni too, coming to see her granddaughter whenever the opportunity avails itself (and always bringing a bag of clothes, of course).

Now my mother has always served as an example to me. So many moms raise their kids in such a way that they then become afraid of being spouses or parents themselves. But my mother gave me the confidence that I could have kids, be strong through struggles, and enjoy my children as much as she did while we were growing up. She also taught me a lot about marriage, that it can be the best thing despite all the trials it can bring and that you just don't give up on your spouse.

So, if I may be so bold, I'm declaring 2009 the year of mom. For all you overcame and all you accomplished this year, here's to you mom!

The Insect on the Leaf

I have been reading "Margaret Sanger's Eugenic Legacy: The Control of Female Fertility." It is an excellent work that systematically uncovers that Margaret Sanger was much more than just the mother of the modern birth control movement: she was devoted to the ideals of eugenics which sought to promote a sharp decrease in procreation among the poor, immigrants, black people, and the mentally and physically challenged. Her financial backers like the Rockefellers and Carnagies upheld these beliefs as well, wishing to put money toward birth control methods that would control "unwanted" populations rather than contributing to their immediate care.

So much for a feminist leader. What kind of feminist insists poor women's feritlity should be controlled by male millionaires, that minority women should be bred out of existence, that sterilization should be imposed upon women with Down Syndrome or genetic diseases? I'm sure Nancy Pelosi and Ruth Bader Ginsberg and Hillary Clinton are of the same ilk. I wish they'd read their Dickens a bit closer. Here is an excerpt from a "Christmas Carol" which I've posted before and will likely refer to again. Please take the time to remember who the poor and disenfranchised are before assuming life would be better off without them.

Then Bob proposed: "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!''

Which all the family re-echoed. "God bless us every one!'' said Tiny Tim, the last of all.

He sat very close to his father's side upon his little stool. Bob held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.

"Spirit,'' said Scrooge, with an interest he had never felt before, "tell me if Tiny Tim will live.''

"I see a vacant seat,'' replied the Ghost, "in the poor chimney-corner, and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die.''

"No, no,'' said Scrooge. "Oh, no, kind Spirit! say he will be spared.''

"If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, none other of my race,'' returned the Ghost, "will find him here. What then? If he be like to die, he had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.''

Scrooge hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Spirit, and was overcome with penitence and grief.

"Man,'' said the Ghost, "if man you be in heart, not adamant, forbear that wicked cant until you have discovered What the surplus is, and Where it is. Will you decide what men shall live, what men shall die? It may be, that in the sight of Heaven, you are more worthless and less fit to live than millions like this poor man's child. Oh God! to hear the Insect on the leaf pronouncing on the too much life among his hungry brothers in the dust!''