At some point many months ago, I felt deeply inspired to write my beliefs. I desperately hung to them and whole-heartedly believed them which is why I felt compelled to write them. I knew that I would need them & call upon them in the future. I knew that my beliefs and patience and hopes would be challenged. I knew that I had to believe in order for my family to believe, but most importantly for Parker to believe he could and would be healed in order for it to be made so.
I painted this. Believe...
Believe in miracles, in hope, in faith, in friends, in love, in courage, in growth, in family, in sunshine, in signs, in joy, in prayer, in smiles, in God, in angels, in Christ, in greatness, in flying, in patience, in endurance, in others, in forgiveness, in teaching, in perseverance, in the Plan, in laughter, in shining eyes, in happiness, in health, in yourself. Il faut y croire. I do.
I am reminded of the African nanny I crossed paths with those many months ago who when asked how things were, I recounted the story of my son. It was then that she thought deeply for for a split second and without hesitation said, "Dieu est Grand" (God is Great)...She then said, "Il faut y croire", meaning "You must believe". I do believe. I have to believe. I have to believe in a God who orchestrates this thing we call life. I have to believe in humanity & love & patience & perseverance...and that there is a purpose in suffering. I have to believe there is a God who would allow real, deep, sincere suffering in children and parents and in a purpose for life and death. A reason greater than I can know, or fully understand.
Do you believe?
6 weeks ago there was a funeral for a mother of three who lived and died in Paris. She died in childbirth, or soon after. I never met her, but deeply identify with her. She was english and living in France. She was a member of the same Mother's group that I belong to. She no doubt found joy & sorrow in motherhood in being a foreigner in a foreign land and raising children here. She knew she could die in childbirth. I don't mean that she knew it was a possibility, like we all think going into it. She actually had a diagnosis with a great risk of death and hemorrhaging from this childbirth. She did it anyway.
This mother's group is designed to help english speaking mothers living in France adjust to their environment and make meaningful relationships along the way. I pay tribute to this mother's group. They are my family away from home. These women raise their children in the streets and in the shadows of buildings in a beautiful, but often harsh playground. It was these women who cared for (and fed) my children when I could not last winter. It was these women whom I proudly call my friends. and whom I greatly admire. It is these women who have already donated over 11, 000 Euros in behalf of this woman's family that she leaves behind.
This group called Message. It was originally designed for mothers, but has evolved to include fathers and other caretakers over time. It was created 25 years ago primarily for ex-pats living in France who perhaps needed a helping hand in deciding which school to put their children in, or what the french word is for hairdresser, or finding help with a handyman, where to buy a light bulb or whatever. It has grown to over 1500 members in Paris. It is strictly volunteer based and operates on many levels. There is a medical directory, several weekly playgroups, holiday parties, etc. Now there are people in this group from all over the planet. Most of the people in the group in my neighborhood are fellow Stay-At-Home-Moms. We have grown to love & care for each other & one another's kids at last minute school pick-ups or impromptu playdates at the park. Most of the women in my book group are members of Message, and many of them have helped our family in some form or another on many occasions, but especially between February 22nd and June-through Parker's acute illness, surgeries & hospital stays. One of my best friends is the current President. She has 3 children, and a french husband. We stayed the entire week with them at their country home leading up to Parker's meningitis. We drove away from their home in Saints on Friday morning. Friday night, Parker woke up with a raging fever. Thankfully, all of their children were not ill following our departure.
Along with her husband, she leaves behind her newborn child, a 14-month old, and 5 year old. I closely identify with her. As a foreigner in a foreign land, yes, but also as a mother, as a warrior. I was deeply affected, as were all of my Message friends by this woman's story. I did not know her, but I mourn for her, for her husband, for her children. I must believe in a reason greater than I can know for her life to end as such. For her to leave 3 children behind. To die while giving life. I do believe. I do believe there is a greater purpose to this thing we call life. I do believe in love & sisterhood & faith & hope & prayer.
Tonight I pray for me, and Parker who crawls and hears and for this newborn child, his 14-month old and 5 year old siblings. And their father. I rejoice in love and these women who are warriors in my women's group.
Warrior Women.
There is a point in every girl's life where she becomes a woman. After some time, something in this woman's life changes, sometimes slowly, sometimes dramatically. And she changes. She transforms into a woman warrior. Where her life is no longer a game, but a genuine battle. Not only to survive, but to survive & be strong. These warrior women help and sometimes carry other women warriors or what is left of them behind to their next, sometimes final battle, or resting place. I believe in alot of things. I also believe in these warrior women and thank them. For carrying me in my battle and carrying this other dear woman and her family, and helping us all make sense of this thing we call life.
