Late the other night, I had to pick my parents up from the airport. After I dropped them off, I was alone with the radio. Moments like these are rare in my life. I was listening to the BBC broadcast on NPR. I rarely ever hear this broadcast because by the time it's on I'm either scrambling to get our family of five ready for the next day, or trying to grab a moment alone with Josh, or sleeping. As I listened, I heard this story, about the BBC's attempt after World War II to find the families of specific holocaust survivors.
I heard the story of a mother of three girls. Two of her children were chosen to live, and before her eyes, one of her children was chosen to die. This mother held on to that child, despite her horrific fate. She fought men certainly bigger and stronger than herself with a desperation that I hope never to feel, but can sadly imagine. As a result of her choice to hold on to her 9 year old daughter for dear life, this mother was sentenced to the same fate as her daughter. She knew that to love meant to fight for her child despite the cost to herself.
I can't remember the last time I had such an emotional reaction to a story. It's not that I've never been moved by a story of the holocaust. Of course I have, but the reality of this story, my role as a mother, and the proximity in age of my own children to the children in this story, sent waves of despair over me. I despaired for this mother and her choice. I despaired for the children she left behind, I despaired for the fear, and torment of the 9 year old girl.
In general, I want to be in control, and as a parent, on more than one occasion I have thought, "No one could ever take them from me. I would never let any harm come to them. I would run, I would fight, it wouldn't be possible." While listening to this broadcast, it struck me, really struck me for the first time, that it is possible. There is evil big enough to rip children from their mothers, to pull them from their siblings.
I couldn't sleep thinking about what kind of person could look into a mother's eyes, so desperate with the kind of love people will die for, and take her child. I couldn't sleep thinking about how there was no way, I or anyone could make up for this act, and the horrendous acts of so many others. You see, I have a fixing problem. I always want to fix things, and I agonized over my inability to make this right. Then it dawned on me, that I may not be able to fix this, but I could work, hobble together the steps to prevent these things in the future. You see, the future sleeps under my roof. The future eats my food, snuggles in my bed, asks me for advice. The future looks to me for answers everyday.
I can teach my children that there are no real differences between people. That their job is to love. That God is love, and that in order to know what's right, they have to look no further than the love between a parent and their child. A love which I hope they feel in abundance.
And I will do my best. I cannot right the wrongs of the past. I cannot heal the wounds of a people. I cannot erase the cruelty of generations, but I can do my best, everyday, to raise up people who see the value of the love between a mother and her child, and who would never violate that love despite the cost to themselves.
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