Middle of Night Prayers

In the middle of the night - with war waging so far away I keep thinking of this picture. This is the best picture I have of 4 generations - Maia in my belly, my dad so strong and vibrant at her baby shower beaming from behind me as I imagine him still shining today, mom and sister beside me radiant and bright, and my grandma Rose, in her own self portrait in prayer.

I’ve heard stories of Rose’s family’s departure from Kiev - boys first so that as Jewish sons they weren’t conscripted into the Russian army. Maia named after a few relatives including my great grandma Minnie who voyaged for safety and the wellbeing of her family - refugees of another time.

Maia is sleeping and I keep looking at her so peaceful but the last few nights she’s said mama my body is scared and I don’t know why. Last night before bed she came to me and said - you told me if I feel sad or scared I can come snuggle - so she curled into my body and sobbed.

Does she feel it? Or just feel me? Aching and uncertain

Holding you dear one in the best cocoon of safety and comfort that I can - while knowing how different the world is that you enter.

I grew up with the deep privilege of not questioning playing in my home freely with friends and family as safe, the democracy we live in felt unshakable - a light to others, growing up the Supreme Court beckoned as one tool committed to bending the arc toward justice, I counted on the air we breathe as safe and water as plentiful.

Such privilege.

That is not your world little one. Not ours either anymore. Hasn’t been true for so many for a long time.

I think of fire season in California in 2020 - the year in the Berkeley Hills we spent months receiving red alert warnings - telling us over and over to have our cars packed, pointed out and ready in case fire came near. While most things have now gone onto book shelves and into closets - the fire bag with our important papers is still together in my office and in my heart I hold a tiny glimpse of what it is to ready my tiny family for a quick and un-chosen escape.

Staring at that fire bag and thinking of all of those families fleeing, holding enough hope and fortitude to imagine something safer for their loved ones. And struck by the bravery and will of those who stay and fight - eyes open and committed to Truth - whatever may come.

What can I do to meet this moment? What is enough here? I don’t know.

I can learn more about what is unfolding in the world, ask, share.

I can learn about my own family’s journey of escape - if only to feel even more connected to and empathy for all those making unbearable choices in these times.

I can hold my little one and meet her tears with comfort and truth - though when she asked last night if someday will I die - and will she - I did say it will be a very very long time. I wish I knew that to be true. But for now I want her to have the experience of safety, of comfort so deep in her psyche and in her body that she can return to. The sense of joy and ease I felt right here - surrounded by love and enlivened with possibility. May she know this state too and create her world from this place.

And may the right ways to do my part of weaving what feels so torn - not back into an image that worked for a few but into a tapestry that deeply works for many - may the clarity, opportunities and courage come.

And for all those who are fleeing, hiding, holding little hands and seeking a better life and those who are fighting for their safety -

Grandma - for your homeland

Pray for that with me