Becoming Superwoman, My Birth Story.

I want to preface this blog and story with a few statements. My birth story is not every woman’s birth story, and I know many birth stories pull up feelings of trauma, pain, disempowerment, or guilt. I firmly, absolutely believe that EVERY woman has delivered their baby and is a Superwoman. No matter how, no matter what language was used around your birth. I also will preface this saying I believe every woman should choose how she wants to give birth and not be made to feel guilty or less than, whether it’s medicated, unmedicated or c-section. However, I personally am pro-unmedicated birth if you’re low risk, and would encourage most women to research the benefits of unmedicated birth and pursue it. There are many studies that show interventions and highly controlled environments can hinder birth, or cause complications with bonding and breastfeeding, but whatever a woman CHOOSES is her choice and she should be surrounded by people who support her and her decision. That is her freedom as a woman bringing a child into the world, and it is an incredibly strong thing.  Also a word to women who had unplanned c-sections ( I know many of them) you are NOT a failure, nothing is wrong with your body, you are no less women than anybody. In fact I think there is a greater strength to women who this happens too because they have to make hard unselfish decisions in a stressful time FOR their baby, that wasn’t what they wanted. You guys are incredible. 

Ok with that said, the following is my birth story. Some of it is my perspective, some is tidbits from the other people present. It is a hard, beautiful, and at times, a hilarious story that made me a mom and made me feel like Superwoman. 

Part 1. The Long Labor

My husband and I from the beginning were both more comfortable with a home birth and no interventions. I had been reading and learning so much about what is happening in the woman’s body to bring the baby out and researching statistics and the history of birth. Taking my Doula course and being present in natural birth also gave me a lot of confidence that this is how I wanted my child to be born. My husband, Ahn, had witnessed so many births and wanted to be with me intimately, and he felt extremely uncomfortable with the idea of being in a big hospital. 

So we prayed for a midwife, a home to give birth in near a better hospital if complications arose, and that I would be low risk and healthy enough to do a home birth. God was so good and all these things fell into place. Fast forward to last month, we had a friend fly over, Christa, who is midwife. We had a friend, Emma Kathryn, come to be emotional support, and we were given a free home where we could stay for a little bit in preparation of the birth, during, and after. We had a back-up plan B of one local hospital and a back-up plan C of crossing the border to Thailand in case of an emergency. We had medical equipment to act quickly in case of emergency, and felt peace about everything. 

On the 26th of August, three days before my due date, I began to feel the cramping sensations coming and going. I tried to relax even though I was really excited. I knew it could be awhile before things picked up. I was wearing a black soccer jersey and slurping one of my favorite smoothies at Common Grounds Cafe, imaging what the next few days might bring. That night they started to become minor contractions, 5 minutes apart. We began messaging people that he may come soon, but we were still trying to keep me distracted and calm. We watched Greenbook, which was an awesome movie, that night and stayed up talking. I felt pretty calm and ready for what my body was doing. I was able to doze in and out all night between contractions. Ahn and I snuggled on the couch excitedly dreaming of our boy and his arrival. My midwife Christa checked my blood pressure and his heart rate every hour. The next day the contractions slowly started to space out to every 13 minutes. I got kinda discouraged thinking it may still be awhile, and it was also a little discouraging answering messages of friends and family saying things had slowed down instead of picking up. That night I hoped my body would kick into active labor. 

I got my wish. August 27th early morning, I began to feel the intense cramping turn into that intentional squeezing and tension of an active labor contraction. I imagined my body opening up and each contraction moving my boy into the proper position to be born. There was no more peaceful dozing for me, I began to feel the urge to walk around and move. It was around 3-4 am when I woke up Christa and Emma Kathryn to tell them I was pretttyyyy sure my body was in active labor. Christa checked me roughly two hours later and told me I was! And already 6 centimeters!!! I felt so good in that moment feeling the progress I had made. 

San, a friend from our village who had been staying with us to help out gotta nice wake up call to fill up the birth pool. He, Emma Kathryn, and Christa began to manually fill up a birth pool for me because we did not have clean, warm water from a hose to use. San was filling up buckets of warm water from the shower while Emma Kathryn was boiling water over a stove and running back and forth with pots of water to fill the pool. Even in active labor, those acts of love and care for me meant so much. Later, I found out Emma Kathryn had tripped and fallen hard in the bathroom running water back and forth causing a swollen and bruised leg, and had received an accidental burn from Christa pouring the boiling hot water in the pool. Christa had torn her back out and was still on the ground with me. I can remember seeing her knees turn black and blue, or her take quick moments to lie flat on her back to relieve the pain, but not one complaint left her or Emma Katheryn’s lips. Ahn never left my side, he was that calm shoulder to lean on, and that hand to squeeze. My birth team was so amazing. 

 Labor pain was hard but pretty manageable with movement and a hand to squeeze. Everyone knew when one was coming because I would reach for any hand. When labor got more intense, I began digging my nails into everyone’s hand breaking skin, and both Ahn and Emma Kathryn walked away from the birth with nail shaped wounds in their hands. At the very end of intense labor, I always had the urge to bite something, thankfully for Ahn I controlled that urge and would usually, awkwardly apologize after a primal attempt to tear out a chunk of his shoulder.

 I continued to ride those contractions all day. I was checked again around 10 am and was at 8 centimeters. We tried so many positions to keep labor progressing. Labor really is hard work, you cannot really rest if you want to progress.  You’re in a constant merry go round of movement, position, and bathroom. The bathroom was the worst for me, each time I went it brought on my most painful contractions that would usually result in me punching a wall or hitting the sink. I mentally went to a place where I wasn’t looking at anybody and wasn’t talking. I then puked my guts out. Christa felt this was a good sign that maybe I had transitioned and was fully dilated (puke is typically what happens during transition). I felt so much better and had a pop of energy and a little break. I remember Christa checking me again around 12p and saying I was STILL at 8 cm dilated.

 That moment felt like such a blow. 

I remember feeling like those hours had been for nothing, I felt I could handle the pain but not the exhaustion…My husband, Christa and Emma Kathryn did not let me stay in that place. They kept telling me how strong I was and how every contraction wasn’t in vain, it was furthering the journey of my son. 

I began to feel tired, my legs were shaky and I wanted to rest, and every position seemed to be painful and filled with pressure. There is this feeling, like your gonna pop. Your muscles are working so hard; every part of your body is aching for the goal of delivering the baby that’s made it’s home in your belly the past nine months.  The absolute hardest moment for me was when we all decided to try a new position to change the diameter of my pelvis. I had to lay flat on the table with my legs hanging down. It doesn’t sound bad, but for some reason that position, when in labor, literally is so painful and opens up your pelvis in a way that causes a lot of pain. I think that was the first time I said no to a method to try and progress my labor. Christa told me I should try the position or we could go to a hospital, knowing that I did not want to go to the hospital. Because of that, I gritted my teeth and got on that table. It took a really strong will in that moment to get in that position. After that, with some effort, Christa broke my water bag. Nothing seemed to happen, I was getting more and more exhausted. I felt like trying to sleep in between contractions even though they were only a few minutes apart. I wanted a break from them, but Christa urged me to keep moving because we needed them to get closer together. That was when I asked the question, “can I do this?” Everyone affirmed me that I absolutely could. Christa reassured me nothing was wrong with me or him, but she didn’t want me to feel so tired. His heart rate was amazing, but his head was just turned a little bit wrong, which was why I wasn’t progressing as quickly as we wanted. 

That was when Christa mentioned the hospital again. She said they might be able to help her turn him a bit to get me fully dilated, but she left the decision to go completely up to me. At that point I was so tired, and felt a little discouraged, continuing how we were, so I said yes. 

Part 2. The Ride of Death and Delivery 

This is when things got hilarious and super hard.

   At this point, Ahn and I haven’t slept in awhile, neither really has anybody else. The house we were staying in had a crusty old van we could use, so we piled in and drove to the local hospital we had planned to go to, if needed. The thing about this van is that the air only works for about 4 minutes, the windows do not go down, and while we were driving, it was pouring rain outside. Also the city of Vientiane is HOT. The car began to literally steam up, and it was hard to see, The traffic was so bad and everybody was wiping the windows down so Ahn could see. Ahn NEVER gets lost and if he drives somewhere once he always remembers, but he immediately got lost on the way to the hospital because he was so stressed and tired. At this point, my contractions have decided to come one on top of the other, and were the most intense I had felt. 

   It hurt so badly to sit down fully, so I gripped the front seat so hard, and barely sat on the edge. I was dripping sweat. We all were.  I think I almost tore the care seat up with my grip. That ride in the van was so intensely horrible I remember thinking, I’m either gonna die, or I’m gonna give birth to my son very soon.  Things began to turn very black and white in my mind, and I think that is when my animal brain turned on. Fight or flight. Emma Kathryn said she noticed I stopped crying out and began to breath through each contraction like I was determined to conquer it. In my mind, I remember just trying to not pass out, and it took every ounce of determination not to. Sweat dripping down my entire body, breathing is stuffy, the waves of contractions crashing over me again and again. 

There wasn’t any other options for me except to invite them on, I went to another realm of existence at that point. Ahn kept getting lost, and I began to very firmly tell him if he didn’t figure it out I was going to walk there or call an ambulance to come get me. I told San to break a window so I could breath. We then approached a long unpaved dirt road with a ton of potholes. I think everybody let out a gasp of horror. I gripped the seat tighter, and began to feel that primal strength again. Again thinking, I’m either gonna die or give birth. I’m not gonna die.  

   After about an hour, Ahn finally makes it to the hospital, the staff opens the doors and realizes very quickly I am having constant intense contractions. I remember anytime I moved at all it brought one on. I had a quick second break to sit on the wheelchair and the staff started to RUN me into the hospital and away from everyone else. So remember Christa had thrown out her back almost her first day arriving in country so was struggling to get out of the death van. She yelled to Emma Kathryn to not lose me. They ran me up the dirty halls to the second floor with Emma Kathryn and Christa chasing after me. Ahn was parking the car, and trying to pay bribes so we would get care. I am in such intense labor and the doctor puts me in a lao skirt somehow as I am in a contraction and then demands that I pay for it. I am in such another place I cannot even speak Lao. Ahn is also in another whole consciousness and can’t even answer their most basic questions. They asked him what my birthday was and he literally couldn’t form words. 

   I somehow make it to a delivery room and they left me with Christa and Ahn. Emma Kathryn wasn’t allowed in as the limit was two people, which made me sad, she had worked so hard with me she really deserved to be there. My legs are shaking so hard, and there is almost a numb tingly sensation going up them. I was worried I would fall. Christa kept helping me sway and breath through each contraction. I was so far gone mentally at this point I didn’t realize that two hours had passed at the hospital. Each contraction felt like climbing a mountain, going downhill, then starting again. I knew my son was so close. 

   They came in to check me again, oh how I dreaded moving and laying down. But again, at this point I remember my will just overcoming the pain. Will is an incredible thing. It really felt like something stronger than myself just taking over, and this other strength could endure anything. They checked me again and exclaimed happily I was fully dilated. Christa grabbed my hand and said, “Alright Mookie, it’s go time.” I was barely conscious and so so tired, but I knew I had to push to be done. I could hear a baby cry in the room next to me Christa said, “That is going to be you soon Mookie, he is so close.” They made me grab my legs, tuck my head and push. Seriously the rawest moment ever. Your so exposed, sweaty, tired, and shaking, and you do not give a flipping care. So many people started to come in to watch the white lady give birth. Random hospital workers, nurses, guards. I did not care at all. 

   Christa on one side guiding me when to use the power of my body’s contractions to push, and Ahn on the other encouraging me. I was so thankful that Christa was there to remind me to breath. She knew how tired I was and how close my energy was to being depleted. She would tell me to stop pushing and breathe deep through my nose slowly, then wait for the contraction and push with all my might. Each time saying “atta girl, beautifully done” It sounds silly but I needed that reassurance each time, so I could find that little bit of strength to push again. Ahn grabbed me excitedly and said, “I can see his hair and his head baby. Keep going.” Each push they told me I was progressing which literally saved me. If I didn’t know I think I would’ve wanted to give up. 20 minutes of pushing I felt that release of his head, they told me to stop for a moment. Then I felt the rest of him slide out. I was honestly so disoriented for a moment, then everything came into sharp focus. My son was right there. They laid him on my chest. 

   I wept. 

   It was over. He was here. Galen Ahn Sayaiphone. I did it. 47 hours after it all began, I did it. The best feeling I’ve ever had in my life. I remember immediately thinking I would do it all over the exact same way if I had to. 

   The warmth of him was perfect. My body was shaking but my heart was filled with calm. I felt such a rush of adrenaline. I remember wanting to see his face better but it was hard because he was lying on my chest. He had a head full of black hair, and perfect little hands with little fingernails. I could feel his sweet little breaths. He had cried for just a moment and then lay quietly on me. Ahn gripped my hand and stared at what we had made. That moment was so precious. I will never ever forget it. Ahn started commenting on every little characteristic about him. 

    Christa made me feel like I had won the race of my life, which I guess I had. She guided me through the rest, Ahn cut the cord after about 5 minutes and then the placenta came out quickly. I tore a little and they stitched me up. It was not fun but felt like a breeze to what I had just been through, but I do remember not wanting to be messed with anymore. I just wanted to stare at my baby and cover him in kisses. 

   They got me on another stretcher and rolled me out into the laboring room against the wall. Thankfully, I had tons of people there to elevate the stretcher and help me sit up. Other women who had also just delivered a baby sat against the wall flat on their back. Ahn then held Galen. I had imagined seeing the love of my life hold our son so many times in my dreams. It was absolute perfection in real life. 

I have turned off my animal brain now and am Mookie again, kind of sitting in shock of what I had just done, and that was when I felt like a superhero. I felt I could climb Mount Everest, I could fight in a battle, I could conquer ANYTHING. And I was kind of laughing that I was sitting up in a stretcher against a dirty wall in a Lao hospital, wearing a bloody lao skirt and ignored by the staff for the next few hours. After giving birth, I was so hungry. I really wanted pizza. We had some other friends waiting at the hospital for support, and my friend Sarah brought me tons of hot, thick cheesy pizza.  I sat there bloody, sweaty, in the nastiest clothes, holding my baby boy with one arm and chowing down on cheese pizza with the other. Everybody in the hospital wanted to come stare at us. I probably looked an absolute sight eating pizza with my baby in that hospital. 

That first night was also hilarious because they wouldn’t let us leave the hospital. They had no private rooms so Ahn, San and I were shoved in a shared group room full of new mothers and their husbands and families. There was only a men’s restroom down the hall and only one toilet worked for a bit and then was clogged. There were bright fluorescent lights kept on all night, and hard tiny beds. It was pretty dirty and not at all what I imagined for our first night. However the other families in the room, although super curious about us were really kind and friendly, as Lao people are. Honestly, it kind of reminded me of when it poured rain on our wedding day. Nothing in Ahn and I’s life together has ever turned out perfect or as planned, but we are always just SO happy we stop caring. 

  We got through that crazy night staring at Galen Ahn Sayaiphone, counting his toes and fingers. Checking his breath every 30 minutes, taking turns snuggling him. It WAS perfect. 

My advice to any woman about to give birth would be this. First. Believe in yourself. Your body is freaking powerful and you can give birth. It's not a scary thing, your not sick, you are very healthy and your body knows what to do. Trust it. Secondly, have emotional support. Gather around you if you can people that will empower you and bear with you through a very hard and wonderful journey. More than simply your partner or even family, they can get worried and feel stressed themselves. Doula's are amazing, my midwife was incredible, or strong woman friends. Thirdly. If you go for an unmedicated natural birth, you will bounce back SO fast (one of the many perks) I was out and about 2 days after that madness, and have felt great. Seriously a woman's body is incredible. 

In the words of Ina May Gaskin (an incredible midwife and author) your body is not a lemon. 

meaning: Your body is not something to hate and despise, it is amazing and capable of bringing life into the world. Go girl. 

What We Watch Matters- Some Shocking Facts about the Porn Industry

So I recently watched the documentary and the docu-series Hot Girls Wanted and Turned On. Honestly, I recommend it to everybody, but be warned that while it does not show sex or much nudity, it is explicit in a lot of things. 

   The statistics surrounding porn are astounding, and this documentary goes through a lot of them. In 2018 alone, more than 5,517,000,000 hours of porn were consumed on the world’s largest porn site. (Ponhub Analytics). I’ve been shocked by the lack of and/or negative response to the documentary. The directors are not anti-porn but they force the viewer to question the reality of the porn industry in America, and the overall effects of this new social media world. It seems there is a lot of uncomfortable silence around these documentaries because, to quote from a guy in the show working in the industry, “everybody wants their porn.” The documentary reveals a lot of things, but I want to go into two of the most shocking things I learned, both of which have been met with a lot of silence or negativity. WARNING: This post talks about these things explicitly. 

 1. Racism in the porn industry. Their most controversial episode  in Turned On was called Money Shot. It features one of the managers and agents in porn and black male talent. They also interview Tyler Knight, a famous black male porn star. I don’t even know how to say it other than porn is OPENLY viciously racist, in fact in feeds on racism as a way that people get off. I have not been exposed to much pornography so this came to a big shock to me. Maybe it doesn’t to others, but the fact that it doesn’t makes it worse. Things that are said and parts that are played in porn by black, or latino people would NEVER be allowed elsewhere. It seems strange to me that we are living in a society that is saying racism is wrong and there is so much noise about it, and yet porn is being consumed by a great number of humans, gets more traffic than any other major site, and it is saying the opposite.Porn sites receive more regular traffic than Netflix, Amazon, & Twitter combined each month. (HuffPost). This episode focused on black men, and that they are being forced to play the role of the big scary thug raping young small white women, which is an image that goes back to Birth of Nation a racist silent film made after slavery was ended in order to encourage fear of black men in America. They reveal these things in this episode so well and let it speak for itself. And yet this was the episode that got the most pushback. I was shocked nobody was talking about it. I was utterly shocked by the things the camera guys would say to the black porn star Jax Slayer about what he was to do while shooting. I furthered research into the topic and found that it isn’t just that episode, but overall different racial groups such as African American are portrayed as erotic in a scary, or animalistic way. It is 2019….and interracial porn with this kinda role is one of the most popular for people to watch. My question is, how would we ever expect to overcome racism in America if what is being most consumed condones it? 

2. Facial Abuse. This is one of those things that really made my stomach hurt and I felt nauseous learning that this kind of thing exists and is a common job for most girls in the industry to take, in fact, if they don’t do it they are turned down from a lot of other jobs. This is a whole website where men spend the video insulting and degrading the women verbally, then attacking her, forcing sexual acts until she vomits and then makes her eat it. Women are crying in it, gagging and being abused. In the episode they interview a latino women who did one of these, and was called a “Punta” and that she should lick up her vomit because her people “like cleaning up”. Imagining the trauma a woman would endure from filming that is overwhelming. The fact that it is legal is overwhelming. 

    The worst part for me was a woman at Duke University, who openly was doing porn, was on this very website taking part of facial abuse, and defends porn saying it is the most empowering thing for her. It brought her confidence as a woman. Vomiting and being attacked sexually on camera made her feel great about herself.  This is what she wanted the world and essentially other young girls thinking about it to know. How is this feministic when men are watching it over and over fantasizing about abusing women this way. The lies women are telling themselves about working in this industry is shocking. Women are not in a position of power by being in this. In fact they feel bullied and expected to do a lot of degrading things in order to get paid or be noticed and make it in the industry. We are seeing a rise in sexual assault, in rape, and in degradation of women. That is because we have young boys being educated on sex by these videos…so to the Duke student who promotes it as being feministic, you are encouraging violence against the women you seek to empower. The documentary states that 40% of all porn depicts violence against women. This is a conversation that needs to be had. As the show portrays, everyday another girl turns 18 and is dying to be a part of the porn industry. It is becoming an attractive job for young girls, but they aren’t being told the whole truth, and are leaving it with trauma emotionally, physically and then stigmatized by videos on the internet the rest of their lives. 

The silence surrounding the topics addressed in this documentary really really shocked and upset me. We need to open this up, this is changing everybody in our society whether it’s the workers behind it, or the people obsessively viewing it. It is encouraging racist stereotypes. I’m completely anti-porn; I think it is destroying sex, intimacy and it is damaging the brain in ways we can’t even understand. But whether you are or not I really would give this documentary a watch. But i can’t help but wonder that the silence is because the addiction to this guilty pleasure goes so deep nobody wants to recognize what it truly is….a lie that is abusing all those involved. Nobody wants to stop. But seriously if your struggling with porn, watch this. It really will help turn you OFF completely. Also if you want more facts about the negative affects of porn go to www.fightthenewdrug.org this website is non-religious and research based. 

It Takes a Village

We have often heard this phrase, said usually in modern day America, with nostalgia because it seems to be something we have lost in the midst of white picket fences and success driven lifestyles. I have thought about the contents of this blog post for a long time. And even though I live in a communal culture now they too have not fully practiced what this means either. In fact in many ways they have drifted as far from it as America has. But these losses have manifested themselves in very different ways. I'm going to focus on America because that is majority of my readers. 

  It takes a village. A village typically consists of many people. Children, elderly, singles, married, all different age groups. When we say “it takes a village” we are saying that it takes everybody. EVERYBODY. Single, married, kids, adults, old people. If this phrase is perhaps our ideal, which it should be,  we have suffered the lacking of it in our lives because of the way we structure our lives and society. But i believe we can change that. And i believe those that are part of the body, and the church have an even larger responsibility to pursue this. But I want to talk more about what it means. 

  In typical America, we are, from early days put into peer groups. Whether it is school, sports, church events, clubs, extra curricular. We tend to socialize and spend our days with people like ourselves. Most churches i have been too have “the singles bible study” where most people feel a bit uncomfortable and undervalued, they are "waiting" to be married. In school you are with your exact age group and typically socio economic status, all day every day. Now there is encouragement and good things that can come from being around people we relate too, but where we have taken it too far is that we have kept away from those that are not like us. Example: why is it that when people get married, they only deem it good to typically hang out with married people? I know most of your answers would be, “well they understand what it’s like, they have my same rhythms. 

I hear you. 

BUT. What if that real hole in your life, and yearning of your heart amidst whatever phase in your life you are is, the lack of diversity. What if your married with kids but need the love and advice and liveliness of a single younger person. Or an old person, or a young child. Or somebody of another race, another economic status. Imagine if your life and community was filled with different people, and how much richer that would feel. And you got to learn from them all, and they learned from you.  

Why do we suggest that this conforming of groups has helped us? When everyday loneliness climbs, mental disorders rise, teen suicide is more common, hate, and even politically we are more and more hostile to one another. It’s because we have abandoned one another in many ways, for similarly ness. For the comfort in only being with people like “us”. 

The biggest ways in our culture that I have seen this system fail us most is in the adolescents, in the elderly, the devaluing of single people, and in the way we misunderstand minorities.

 I’ve been talking to a single friend about these things, I say that but that is not the first thought or even the 10th thought that comes into my head when thinking about her. She is wise, reliable, fun, and servant hearted. She has so much to offer. And yet, she has felt pressure that she is only valuable once she is married with a family, that she hasn’t arrived yet and is in a forever transition. That she doesn’t have a family to offer, but must simply join into other families.  And yet she has been most valuable (I think) in light of her singleness. She has been more available, flexible and filled with wisdom in another perspective BECAUSE she isn’t married with kids. She has just recently begun to feel more embolden to embrace this time, and I’m so proud of her because of it. As a married woman, I need my single friends. And not just because they are single, but because of simply who they are. And I’m sure it will be a temptation when I become a mother to young children to be consumed by that, and I will need my single friends to remind me that isn’t ALL their is. I’m God’s daughter before all else. 

I took a youth ministry class in college and one of the books we read was “The World Beneath” describing teenagers and their phase of life as a hidden world from adults. Kids have learned since the beginning of their education, that you only relate to your own age, adults don’t understand you and you secret away your personal life. That is why their is so much bullying, suicide, teen pregnancy, rape, and insecurity resides in the youth. They are being taught by themselves. We literally put them in a building all day almost everyday with only kids like them typically, full of hormones, insecurities, and strangeness. It’s like a bomb waiting to explode. Then they are often guarded, ridiculed, and misunderstood by the adults that watch them. 

  Now there are exceptions. There are some amazing teachers, administrators and youth workers that have taken up what it means “It Takes a Village” and looked at the youth as people to learn and mentor, to listen to and understand, to spend time with and invite into their lives. In fact perhaps teachers  of any other type of adult, take this burden on most. But I’ve also been in teachers lounges where they discuss the teens with a disdain, constant frustration and suspicion. 

    But imagine if children were surrounded by adults, babies, and different ages who mentored them. Imagine if they didn't shrug off the elderly but actually sat at their feet to listen to them. I remember thinking so many of my peers were strange when I went to public school that had NEVER been around babies, and felt so uncomfortable looking and talking to grown ups (seriously most teenagers are). I had a very rare upbringing, I trusted and enjoyed adults and kids, because I had been surrounded by them, I also felt comfortable with people with disabilities and non-english speakers. And that has given me more richness than the best education could’ve. Grown ups would chuckle at my five year old self because if I was sitting near you, I'd probably start a conversation with you, and expect to be taken seriously. 

   In many ways we are failing the youth. Watch shows like 13 Reasons, or walk into a middle school or high school. You will see what I’m talking about. It is a world beneath, but it doesn’t have to stay that way, it will require US giving them time, love, understanding and VALUE. God says do not underestimate somebody according to their age.  

   When I read the Native American book “The Wolf at Twilight” it was full of wisdom and life lessons taught by a 90 year old man. My Paw Paw is one of my favorite people to talk to, he has SO much experience and I love listening to his stories and his advice. But both my Paw Paw, and this Native American man, had been given a role in which they were RESPECTED, and valued. Typically we don’t do that in our culture. We put them in nursing homes, we see them as old and used, not as relevant as the younger people. We think old people are sometimes cute, but not really to be taken seriously. But those same elderly people have lived more life than anybody else on the earth. Shouldn't we be asking them questions? I think one of the reasons this Native American man in the book was so sharp and wise was because his community and people VALUED him above all others, because he was an elder. They described elders and babies being closest to the creator. Babies, because they have just innocently been born into the world newly made by the creator, and the elderly because they are nearing the end where they will meet Him again. These two groups in Native American culture are valued greatly, and respected. How different our lives would be if we did the same as a society, if we asked the old for their wisdom and had it balanced with young people and their new vision of the world, they would challenge and grow each other.  

The last group I want to talk about is minority groups. We are in an age now we are talking more about slavery, about immigration, about social injustice (although we are not talking much about Native Americans). These are great things. But most minorities I have talked to still feel like the majority white America never actually ASKS them, or LISTENS, or tries to really UNDERSTAND their perspective. They don’t enter their neighborhoods and communities. The book The Hate U Give, really discusses this a lot. it’s about a black girl who lives in “the ghetto” but goes to a white wealthy school. Her white friends will not go to her neighborhood because it’s scary. She feels she must act in a completely different way at school then at home, and school friends and her neighborhood community do not ever meet. Towards the end some of the people at her school become more willing to enter her world, and she is feeling more bold to be herself. And it’s powerful. I have seen in my life what it looks like to have minorities included, and groups really mixed racially, and when their is mutual respect and trust….man it is a force to be RECKONED with. The Sunday morning church services shouldn’t be as segregated as it is. It should be colorful and different. And if your black you shouldn’t have to act white to be in a more white church. There shouldn’t be such a thing. There is only THE Church. How beautiful His kingdom is because it is ALL believers across this world. But we miss so much when we don’t invite each other into our lives. 

So It Takes a Village. Imagine your life if the possibility of a society with you spending time with different kinds of people. of gaining knowledge and understanding from the innocence of a child, to the great experience of a 90 year old couple. The passion and freedom of a single person, to the new family of a married couple. The experiences and history of a black man and woman, the closeness and love of a latino family, the dedication and culture of the asian student in your history class, the kid with down syndrome who always gives such good hugs. Imagine looking at each of them with value, and seeking to learn from them. Imagine if you could have a community like this. This is the Body our Father was envisioning for us. I believe with all my heart that it is possible to have it, but you have to fight for it. It might be uncomfortable at first, it might be messy, but love can do all things. So don’t just say, It Takes a Village….break barriers and make a village. 

Good books to read that I reference or have gotten inspiration from

1. Wolf at Twilight by Kent Nerburn (part of a series) - discusses the forgotten stories of what happened to the Native Americans, and the value of the elderly and the young

2. The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas - discusses blackness, police shootings, racism, and the pressures of being black in a white world. Really interesting and wonderful perspective to hear. 

3. Casual Vacancy by J.K. Rowling - this one is very explicit and has a lot of language, but really delves into the disparity and anger between the youth and the grownups. Also the gap between the haves and the have nots.