The Extremes of my Heart May 16, 2008

My baby lies on my bed, still smelling of lavender soap, fresh out of the bath. His hair, the colour of a freshly minted copper penny, curls tight atop his head. His blue eyes shine with mirth as we play a game of mirroring our tongues sticking out. I kiss his velvet soft round tummy and he squeals with delight.

I can feel my heart expand with absolute unconditional love. The warmth in my chest radiates throughout my body and I know this feeling of peace and joy is infused with the presence of God—this is bliss.

Three days later, my baby lies on my bed whimpering. His whole body is an angry red and he is so hot I can barely touch him. The thermometer reads 40.4°C. I check, that’s 104.7 ° F. How can that be? I just gave him fever medication an hour ago. Why isn’t it working? The decision is made in a fraction of a second—we are off to the hospital. The night is cool. I thank God for that. Then I continue my conversation with God pleading for my son’s health as I drive to the nearest hospital, speeding through the empty roads, adding another thank you for a clear path. I sling my baby close to my chest as I run through the automatic doors of the emergency room.

My heart has imploded. It is encased in a block of ice and ceases to beat, but I can still feel my pulse roaring in my ears. The fear I have for my son’s safety is physically painful. I have to remind myself to breathe. I still talk to God, begging, pleading. He answers me with a temperature drop of one degree. He is here with me. He is here. I hold my baby to my chest and his heat begins to melt the ice around my heart. Everything is going to be just fine.

Three days later, as I change my son’s diaper he gives me a grin and sticks out his tongue. Complete Utter Bliss.

Human Rights Day December 10, 2007

On this Anniversary of The Universal Declaration of Human Rights I would like to honour two groups of people giving of themselves in service for humanity:

The men and women working in law enforcement as high-tech crime investigators devote themselves to finding and apprehending the pedophiles that use the Internet as their hunting and feeding grounds. These police officers do so at the expense of having horrific images of exploited babies and youth seared into their memories. They fight for the rights of all the children of the world: black, white, Muslim, Christian, Jew, girl or boy. And for this my husband will always be my hero.

The men, women and youth who sacrifice the comforts of home to travel to distant lands in the spirit of service, and that give of their sweat and tears to better humanity. These people deliver everything from clean water, to medication, to eyeglasses, to school supplies, all of which are readily available for most here at home, but a Godsend for the millions of wanting people of the world. This year my thoughts are especially with the people helping in Darfour and Chad, may they all soon be returned to their homelands.

God bless these admirable steps towards Universal Human Rights.

A Mother’s Journey to the Baha’i Faith November 30, 2007

I have always searched for meaning in my life, always believed in the equality of all of mankind, always knew that I was put on this earth for a purpose—to serve humanity. Becoming a mother didn’t change that, if anything it made the search more crucial.

My mother says that I’ve tried every religion and she is not too far from the truth. I have definitely read-up on just about every faith and loosely practised most of the eastern beliefs in my adulthood—drifting toward Buddhism for its peace-loving qualities in a world where most wars and conflicts are related to religion. But having four children instilled a sense of urgency in me to find something more authentic than meditating sporadically, as I struggle to explain the complex ideas of material detachment and cessation of suffering to young children, yet celebrate all the Christian holidays, and irregularly attend my husband’s childhood church. Not only did I need something to believe, but in the face of the media’s overwhelming influence I needed my children to believe in God and to be with him everyday.

I had heard my Homoeopathy professor talk about the Baha’i faith on several occasions, and his talks always gave me a sense of peace and understanding, so my husband and I went to him for some insider information, which became my first step toward becoming Baha’i. Over the next year I read about the faith—a lot, I helped my oldest daughter do a project on the Baha’i faith for Girl Guides, I enrolled my two older girls in Baha’i children classes and brought my younger kids to virtue based Baha’i playgroup.

While each step was done for the benefit of my children, I began to take much more from the journey than I had anticipated, and soon I was attending Devotional gatherings and taking adult classes. I couldn’t deny that my soul was the soul of a Baha’i.

My husband has remained a follower of the United Church and we still celebrate the Christian holidays in addition to the Baha’i holy days. We teach our children about Jesus and the other manifestations of God including Baha’u’llah, we teach the Virtues, and most of all we teach them by example that we can live united with two faiths in one home.