I strive to live in the moment. My moments. Moments where my children are brimming with joy, or moments where my family struggles to find joy. A moment to watch the bees collect their pollen. A moment to watch the Robin enjoy a cherry from our tree. A moment where I dive into a novel and enter a new world. Moments I catch my husband’s eyes twinkling with laughter. Sometimes moments where I feel heavy, and I embrace the heaviness. Moments of happiness, sadness, productivity, struggle, and quite often growth. There are many moments, Monday through Friday, where I witness the youth of the world with both awe and fear. And then there is the moment where I open these tiny apps on my phone and I am no longer in MY moment. I am catapulted across the world into moments where others worlds stop. I am taken into the heart of a genocide. Of famine. Of the ultimate pain a human can bear. I am taken to the lives of a singing cat, a rather suggestive shirtless chef, fancy cars, and last but surely not least a headless child in the midst of a disintegrated camp that was meant to be a safe space. A moment of disbelief. A moment of rage. A moment of helplessness. I know that we go about our days trying our best to get from point A to point B.. or practicing being here, now, not dragged down by the world. But let us not forget the heart connection that we all share. From a seed sprouting to the wonder in a child’s eyes, from the bark of a tree to our weathered skin, from a river flowing to our veins pumping blood. Let us not forget the pain we inflict on one another. Let us not be complicit in the erasure of an entire country of living, breathing human beings with hearts that mirror our own. In these moments I let my heart break so that my spirit is not broken. In these moments I wrap up the grief with love. For what is grief if not love persevering. In these moments I stand with Palestine. I stand with what is right. In these moments I urge you to not turn your head. Let us aim to leave this world less broken than we found it. For our children, for our children’s children. For those who are suffering in this very moment. Their moments. -JL
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