What Would Jesus Consume and Where Would He Get It?

Unpacking the privilege backpack is slow and painful. One third of the world's population lives on $2 per day or less.  It is time to simplify and re-organize.  We have more stuff than we need---and we are short on joy and love, measures of intangible wealth.  The season of self-discipline and reflection, Lent carries us to Easter---yet another Nestlé and Hershey's boycott until they stop using child slave labor to harvest cacao. Hershey's has pledged to use only free trade chocolate by 2020.  Thirteen years is a long time to wait for a kiss, but I inherited persistence if not a last name from my Grandpa Hershey. 

Jesus said it is easier for a camel to fit through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God (Matthew 19:24). I am inspired by Ryan who today asks today in his blog post, "Will the Poor Always Be with Us?" Like Ryan, I, too, have had to pry my own selfish fingers off a fifth winter coat that I do not need in order to donate it to someone who can use it this year. 

Our house is full. We have a surplus of food, clothing, and shelter. Enough shopping. Enough exploiting cheap labor through rampant bargain-hunting consumerism. Enough cheap substitutes for joy. I want to know who made the $5 uniform t-shirts that my kids' school sells, "made in Haiti". Made by whom under what conditions? I want to know who grew and harvested my fruits and vegetables. Living where? Earning what? Protected from exploitation by whom? 

If we have ever eaten food we did not grow and harvest in the yard, there is blood on our teeth. The time has come for a clear and attainable path to citizenship for the 11 million people hiding, working, and being exploited in the shadows of the USA. "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free..." so they, too can access a university education, attain healthcare, buy a house, drive a car, marry a spouse until death do us part (not just until the migra comes knocking). 

Time to quit waiting for some program or politician to deliver hope.  It is time to examine our own hearts and our budgets, to measure the waste of consumption and the cost of global human exploitation on our human souls. It is time to demand that cell phones to be made with fair trade metals. Time for people to travel the world as safely and quickly as roses. Time for diamonds and ivory to be seen as a symbol of torture. Time to shrink our ecological footprint by flying and driving less, and walking more. Time to see a tiny house and a big veggie garden and think, "I'm home." Time to treat the ubiquitous plastic water bottle as the sign of a poisoned planet and instead of buying more packaged tap water, let's pledge to share clean water from fountains. Time to ask the writings and legacies of César Chávez, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr, Gandhi, and Mother Theresa to tell us, "what would Jesus do?"

Tiny Houses, Tiny Footprints, Tiny Planet

On Earth Day in 2004, I took the ecological footprint quiz in Central Park in New York City.  I had walked there with my daughter in a backpack, since I still didn't know how to drive, let alone own a car. My daughter is turning ten this month, and as she learns about getting big, I have tried to teach her about living small.

We are both inspired by the tiny house movement.  The first time we saw Jay Schaeffer's Tumbleweed Tiny House company featured in a documentary, we became fascinated by tiny houses.  After living my early adult life in Manhattan for six years, until my daughter was 15 months old, I learned how to enjoy life in the real world while keeping my belongings to a minimum.Now, with four kids, we live in a three bedroom with a full basement and a garage, and I cannot imagine packing the family into a 300-square-foot studio.  Living eight years with eventually three children in 600 square feet was challenge enough. 

But someday when I am old and grey, a tiny house is a dream.  I will park it in my adult kids' yards for a month each, and I'll unpack my rocking chair and visit my grandchildren.  In the meantime, I would certainly consider staying in a tiny house vacation rental for a week to try it out.  Here is a video about a tiny apartment built into a shipping container---with amazingly cool Murphy-bed-style furniture that folds out of the wall.

Living small allows the family budget to stretch to meet the needs and desires of living in the real world.  Just think:  fewer rooms to clean, less junk to put away, less storage space to cram full of memorabilia so that people can get out and enjoy life more. I am eagerly waiting the release of  the documentary film Tiny:  The Movie.

Living in a tiny house saves time and money in maintenance and cleaning, which allows human energy to be spent in growing a garden, traveling, exercising, reading, writing, and enjoying outdoor life.  If you've read the book by Richard Louv Last Child in the Woods you know how important it is for children to explore nature.

Gardening with children teaches them history, independence, economics, biology and hard work.  Our family will grow the three sisters (corn, beans, and squash) in symbiotic harmony as the Native Peoples grew for centuries before our ancestors migrated here.

Permaculture is not a trend.  It is a return to our roots.  Someday, when we raise chickens for fresh eggs, we'll put them to work in the backyard food production project as well.  Check out these chicken tunnels for natural insect control:



It's a small world, so let's make tiny carbon footprints to keep our earth clean. You can check your ecological footprint by taking a short online quiz.

Mothering Syllabus

Mothering Syllabi

Sometimes when I can’t sleep, I draft syllabi in my mind that are unrelated to courses I have ever taught at the university.  Usually, the topics pertain to the course my life has taken through principles I learned by blood, sweat and tears.  The required readings are the touchstones of journey as a mother. 

Week #4  Maternal-Filial Communication

Required reading:  Liedloff, Jean.  The Continuum Concept

• ·         The risks and benefits of formal education
• ·         Liedloff’s ethnographic observation methods
• ·         Cultural practices of Yequana and Sanema people in the Amazon

Week #7  Cooperative Difference

Required reading:  Stadlen, Naomi.  What Mothers Do:  Especially When It Looks Like Nothing

• ·         Guest speaker (TBA)
• ·         Essay:  (1000 words, typed, double spaced).  Compare / contrast Stadlen’s unique writing method with Dr. William and Martha Sears’ using specific examples from What Mothers Do and from any of the Sears’ books.  Which parenting practices resonate with your experience?  What ideas and methods challenge you?  What practices mentioned do you disagree with?  Which would you like to incorporate into your own practice of living?

Week #8   Global Childhood Sleep Practices

Required readings:          Jackson, Debra  Three in a Bed

McKenna, James  Sleeping with Your Baby

Levenin, Tine.  The Family Bed

• Reflection paper:  (300 words, typed, double spaced).  After viewing the slide show during class from photographer James Mollison’s book Where Children Sleep, write a reflection paper about your childhood sleep practices.  Include references to the books in the required readings to demonstrate your understanding of the subject of global sleep practices.

Week #10    Creating a Perinatal Community

Required reading:  Kathleen Kendall-Tackett (Selections from three books.  Copies on reserve)

• ·         Global perinatal and postpartum cultural practices
• ·          Reducing risk factors for perinatal depression 
•       Group project:  In groups of four students, create a village for raising a child from birth to age 3.  (Projects will be graded on the mind-body-spirit balance of the members of each individual in the village, the effectiveness of each member, as well as on the balance and well-being of the village in relation to other villages in our class.  A list of group members, preliminary budget proposals, and your project outlines are due Monday.  Projects will be presented on Thursday and Friday (with a sign-up sheet to be passed in advance). 

Week 16:  Final Exam

Your final exam is cumulative.  The exam consists of writing five essays--selected from a total of ten possible topics. 

You may bring notes from class discussion and from your reading.  You may also use a print dictionary.  You may not, however, bring the readings, books, articles, or images to the exam.  Your hand-written notes and the reflections in your mind are all you need.  Reminder:  All electronic devices are prohibited and must be turned off---their presence or use will be treated as an Honor Code violation.    

The Final Exam will take place in our regular classroom according to the University Exam Schedule.   

Our Christmas Card

Merry Christmas!

From all the members of our family, ages 1 to 97 years old, we wish you a blessed celebration of the birth of our Savior.  May the Lord's peace and love be with you this season and always. 

We dressed up to act out the Christmas story, with the help of Granny and Grandpa's mules and the neighbors' sheep.  Click below to hear and see the story:

A Recitation of the Christmas Story

Green

Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
    to the house of the God of Jacob,
that he may teach us his ways
    and that we may walk in his paths.
 He shall judge between the nations,
    and shall decide disputes for many peoples;
and they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
    and their spears into pruning hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
    neither shall they learn war anymore.

Isaiah 2:3-4  ESV 

Green uniform shirts are in short supply here at home today. Last uniform order I mostly ordered the dark brown hide-the-dirt-and-don't-show-stains shirts in three sizes for this school year. But the principal says wear green, and green it will be. 

Mary is wearing John's button-down dress shirt under her brown. Anna tried on one of my long-sleeved t-shirts but said, true to style, "No way. It feels weird." John dug a green uniform shirt out of the laundry pile in the basement, that is neither clean nor close to his size. He is swimming in it. But it is green. 

 The kids received spray hair paint from their baby brother in the family gift exchange yesterday, so we painted some green stripes in their hair. I hope the green hair is not viewed as irreverent. 

Our intention is the very opposite---green is life, green is growth, green is sustainable. We are in school spirit. We stand in solidarity with the families across this nation who trust each other as the proverbial village to care for and raise our children. We have gotten very far from the land. 

The prophet Isaiah was right when he suggested the need for more ploughshares and more time spent on the mountain of the Lord.

 They will live again in freedom

In the garden of the Lord.

They will walk behind the ploughshare,

They will put away the sword.

The chain will be broken

And all men will have their reward.

--from the musical Les Miserables

@ de nosotros

This blog is about a home-schooled Mama, an immigrant Papa and our home-birthed brood.  It's about the way we as a bi-cultural, bilingual, blended family of six (three varying shades of blondes and three degrees of brunettes) engage with the world around us. This blog is about how the six of us live as human beings and as equals, seeking to balance the wants and needs of the diverse and complex members of this little family.  It's 1 Corinthians 12 (the body as a metaphor for spiritual gifts working together as a whole) meets 1 Corinthians chapter 13 (love is patient, love is kind). 


The idea of Mamá Gallina comes from a traditional Latin American folk tale.   Mother hen hovers over her chicks and keeps them safe and warm.  She is not as pushy as the back-stage mom or the helicopter parent, but she is similarly fueled by oxytocin, the love hormone.  This mama makes sure her babies have what they need to survive and thrive, even if it means missing a night's sleep once in a while.

Mamá Cuervo is a ferocious mother figure who also comes from a Latin American folk tale. She is the mother crow who has lost her baby.  She asks everyone, "Have you seen my baby?  He is tall, and dark, and handsome." No one in the entire forest has seen him.  She finally asks owl, who says, "That scruffy, scrawny, grey pile of feathers that has been squawking all day?" Yep, that's him.  Mamá Cuervo is fueled by the mother bear hormone.  She will drink any bizarre herbal concoction that the midwife suggests in order to try to keep the baby on the inside for the full 9 months.  She will wait in line for the last parts to a hospital-grade breast pump so she can ship more milk home from the office.  She sits up nights emailing the teacher and the principal and the school counselor about how to solve the school bullying problem.  

 
This blog is written by me, Mamá Gallina ~ Mamá Cuervo.  But it is a blog about my family.  I made it though a public university and a private liberal grad school with no interest in feminism. When I shook the Dean's hand while crossing the stage at Columbia, he asked what I planned to do with my Ph.D. "I am a mother," I responded, which was obvious anyway from my big belly under my robe. "You are doing everything right," he replied. 

 I will not detail my own journey to liberation.  No bras were burned. Obviously, no abortions were performed, as the rainbow tribe attests to my pro-life stance. In the months and years that followed, as the daily rumination that accompanied the dishes, diapers and laundry moved out of the Iberian Middle Ages and into my small town Indiana circumstances, I saw that equality was not something to silently wish for. Equality is something women have when we choose to claim it, demand it, and use it. I expect love and equality for myself, for my husband, for my mom, my dad, my siblings, and for my sons and daughters. 

Anillo

Hoy perdí una pequeña parte de mi ser.  

El día en que cumplí los doce años, mis padres me llevaron a una tienda de antiguedades.  Allá el en parqueadero encontré un anillo de oro, talla cuatro, bien chiquito aún para mis deditos de niña.  Mi papi les avisó en la tienda y llamó también a la policía local, y puso un anuncio en el periódico del pueblo.  Me dijo que después de un mes si nadie había venido por el anillo, iba a ser mío.  De hecho, recibimos una sola llamada.  Me pasaron el teléfono.  Una señora mayor había perdido una pulsera de rubíes.  Ella me dijo que no era la dueña del anillo perdido, pero que agradecía mucho el esfuerzo de devolver algo de valor a su dueño.

Por un tiempo, el anillo estuvo atado en un calcetín debajo de la cama de mis padres.  De vez en cuando, lo sacaba y lo probaba en el meñique porque no me entraba en el dedo anular.  Cuando cumplí los 16 años, mis padres me llevaron a una joyería a cambiarle el tamaño para que lo pudiera llevar.  Me lo ajustaron y me lo puse. 

Llevo dos décadas con ese anillo.  Me ha acompañado en las peregrinaciones urbanas de Nueva York y de Chicago y de Barcelona.  Juntos hemos hecho el Camino de Santiago.  Aprendí a ser profesora.  Di luz cuatro veces con el anillo puesto.  Con él en la mano, he aprendido a manejar, a coser, a escribir a máquina, y a traducir libros.  El anillito me ha acompañado a diario, en varios apartamentos, en varias casas que han sido mi hogar.


Perdí hoy una parte del anillo, y decidí dejarlo ir. Quería tener su libertad, y para decir la verdad, lo entiendo. 

Today I lost a small piece of me. I found a ring in a parking lot of an antique mall on my 12th birthday. My parents put an ad in the paper and we told the store about the find. It was size 4, too small to fit even my pre-teen hand. No one claimed it, so after a month, Dad had it sized and then let me keep it. I've been wearing that ring now for a couple decades. When I was single, I counted on it to make me look unavailable in order to get myself out of occasional unwanted encounters. It's witnessed cultural divides, life in Barcelona and New York City, a decade in small town Indiana, a new start in a bigger town in Indiana, some peaceful protests and civil disobedience, four home births, a decade of breastfeeding. That little ring has helped me learn to type, to sew, to drive, to play guitar. Together we've walked across Spain and written a dissertation on medieval miracle poetry, graduated outdoors in sunshine and in rain, moved about 30 times, and picked up some languages along the way. Today one of the tiny diamonds fell out somewhere in one of the three buildings on campus where I taught today. I looked half-heartedly for about 10 minutes, but my baby was waiting and needed to nurse. So I'm letting it go because with age I am accepting that we can't hold on to anything too tightly. That diamond wanted freedom and I understand.