Not Quite "the Most Wonderful Time of the Year"
a mother's perspective on Gaza, grief, and gratitude
I don’t know how to write about motherhood with everything that is happening in Gaza.
The Israel-Hamas war has been constantly on my mind as I pass each day with my boys. I’ve done my best to limit the constant barrage of horror and injustices filling my social media feeds and daily dose of news, while not denying or suppressing the reality of what’s happening. Children burried in the rubble. Children wailing above their dead father’s body. Children killed, maimed, and injured. It’s so heavy. I think we all feel it. We cannot unsee it.
I’ve been holding my kids closer, pulling them in for more hugs and kisses, studying their precious faces after they’ve fallen asleep in my arms. I’ve been telling them annoyingly often how much I love them, how grateful I am to be their mama, and how special they are.
I am increasingly grateful for each plate of food we sit down to eat together as a family. Grateful for clean clothing, water, and snacks. Grateful for a steady income, for our warm house, a quiet street, a cozy blanket to snuggle at night. Grateful for the slow and slightly chaotic after dinner family walks we’ve been taking to see Christmas lights. Grateful for the four walls we return to.
As a writer it has felt increasingly trivial to depict any type of mom life struggle I’m experiencing when there is profound suffering in Palestine.
I’m encouraged by my friend, Brie Stoner, and her boys Søren (14) and Rowan (11) who write and produce a holiday song every year. I used to babysit these beautiful boys when I lived in Grand Rapids, and it’s been an immense pleasure to watch them grow into incredible humans. I look forward to their creativity and songwriting every December and, once their song is out, I listen to it on repeat.
This year’s song, “NANANA NAVIDAD,” thematically reflects the conflict of the Israel-Hamas war, while asking the hard questions, “How can we sing of joy and peace when there’s war, hate, and suffering?” Their song calls for a ceasefire, and includes a refrain—a plea—for healing, “Navidad, tráenos amor y amistad. Navidad, tráenos paz is solidaridad.” Christmas, bring us love and friendship. Christmas, bring us peace and solidarity.
It so accurately captures the heaviness I’ve been feeling in the face of immense calamity, murder, and destruction in this supposed “most wonderful time of the year.”
I mentioned the after dinner family walks we’ve been taking. Everywhere in this small predominantly Christian town there are nativity scenes. We pass at least four or five of them on our short one mile walk each night. Kai loves the camels. Loren keeps asking if he can ride one. Mary and Joseph stare affectionately at the peaceful baby Jesus, none of which are brown, by the way. The family basks in the warm glow of a guiding star as the animals rest nearby. The scene is always tranquil, gentle, calm.
But not in Gaza. Not in Ukraine. Not in countless places around the world. People are broken, sad, and afraid. They wake and sleep to the soundtrack of shelling, air raids, and explosions. There is hate, war, and suffering. This isn’t anything new, but it feels new to me, as a mom, seeing it all through the eyes of a child.
The Evangelical Lutheran Church in Bethlehem has redesigned their nativity this year. The scene reflects the Israel-Hamas war, and depicts Jesus—a helpless infant—beneath broken slabs of concrete rubble. “If Christ were to be born today,” Reverend Munther Isaac said, “he would be born under the rubble and Israeli shelling.” As we gather at holiday parties, spend time with loved ones, and enter the festivities of the season, let’s not forget the ongoing suffering and devastation of the Palestinian people.
Before I write another post about the two little lives I’m so deeply honored and privileged to care for, I wanted to take a moment to honor and support the lives of Palestinian (and Israeli) children that have ended too soon. Please listen to “NANANA NAVIDAD,” share it with a friend, and consider donating to the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund.
I’ll be back next week with another (typical) Mommy Say F*ck post. I’ll be sharing “5 Things I’ve Learned from 3 Years of Parenting (and from taking my kids to overcrowded, overstimulating places).” You can expect a good dose of humor, ample sarcasm, and occasional expletives. For now, a moment of silence. Hold your little ones closely.
In the meantime, I’ll be singing these beautiful lyrics by Brie Stoner & The Thunder Tree Band:
“It’s time for peace and love. Ceasefire. Enough’s enough.
There’s just too much at stake and too many lives lost.
We’ve got to change our ways, and live another day.
Learn from our mistakes the hate division makes.
Learn to see each other in a different way, see you as my brother, not my enemy.
We’ve got to come together if we wanna believe our future is shaped by what we do today.”