| Planet Waves | from Jude on May 8, 2005 
 In the 
States, it's Mother's Day. I wish a day of blessing, then, to those of you who 
are mothers, or those of you who have one.
 
 The historical essence 
of this day is the celebration of goddess ... woman energy.  In our current 
culture, honoring Mom is a handy and somewhat covert way to remain aware of the 
Divine Feminine without actually saying so and getting everybody riled up. This 
honoring of the feminine has had many iterations over the centuries, in 
almost every culture, but I am particularly moved by that of Julia Ward Howe in 
1872.  The article below speaks to that, and for me, today.
 
 Happy 
Mothers Day ~
 
 Jude
 
 Watch out: Becoming a Mother Changes 
Everything
 Mary Babic
 May 7, 2005 by 
CommonDreams.org
 http://www.commondreams.org/views05/0507-27.htm
 
 Here's 
what I'd like for Mother's Day: No flowers. No candy. Not even a card, however 
hip and humorous.
 
 Because right now, being a mother feels like the most 
perilous and primal job I will ever have. And a box of chocolates will do 
nothing to appease my passion and anger.
 
 When my daughters slammed out 
of my body years ago, it seemed logical and satisfying - the end result of nine 
months of eating cheese and spinach, buying diaper genies and tiny sweaters. I 
was ready for all the changes in my life.
 
 But I wasn't at all prepared 
for what was about to happen to me. Nobody warns you about the astounding 
phenomenon of becoming a mother. Oh, plenty of pundits cover the physical 
transformations -- the drooping boobs, the spongy abdomen-- and the fiscal 
implications; and the lifestyle shifts. But nobody, just nobody, lets you in on 
the dirty secret: mothers are different, and mothering makes you different.
 
 Sometimes, mothering is the shiny, soft-focus experience sold in 
greeting cards and telephone commercials: giggles in bed, cookie dough in the 
kitchen, hugs in the playground. And sometimes it's the hair-pulling, 
head-pounding experience you have in the morning: stumbling on Legos in the 
bedroom, realizing homework isn't done, hustling to find clean underwear and 
pull the lumps out of bed to get to school on time.
 
 And sometimes, just 
sometimes, it's as primal and bloody as life ever gets. The lioness instinct to 
draw a big paw around them and pull them close to the chest, to protect them 
from everything the world offers: cold, hunger, taunting, fast food, dirty 
magazines, uncomfortable shoes. Every day is a challenge to the tiny, warm world 
inside our house.
 
 And lately, the challenge has grown so much bigger. 
Because - and it seems hard to remember, most days, when media is dominated by 
pop stars' pregnancies and "American Idol" results - our country is at war. We 
are engaged in a deadly war in a country far away. How is this not at the 
forefront of our minds and hearts every day? How do the mothers bear it?
 
 Yes, the world has grown darker and colder since 9/11; and I feel that 
anxiety for myself and my children. But the choices we have made in the wake of 
the attacks have only exacerbated what was wrong all along.
 
 It seems 
like the U.S. has taken a big crayon and drawn all over the world: here are the 
bad guys, we can bomb them; here are the good guys, we'll send them more bombs 
of their own. Black and white, evil and liberty, wrong and right.
 
 Well, 
I'll tell you what I see: mothers and children. Sometimes, I see American 
mothers here at home: waiting and praying for their children to come back from 
wars on foreign soil; watching the news and wondering how much longer their sons 
can dodge the snipers' bullets. So many years of wiping tears and making 
macaroni and mending pants - to be canceled by what? A man in his own land, with 
his own government, who does not want to be occupied any longer. Who sees her 
son as an enemy. The kid who played with super hero dolls and sang in the choir.
 
 And sometimes, I see Iraqi mothers, and their children. They endured 
Saddam Hussein; they endured a war to oust him; they are now enduring scarce 
resources and ongoing violence, the daily losses of life and limbs.
 
 So 
what I want for Mother's Day this year: a commitment to peace. A commitment to 
find a way to get our troops out of Iraq, and to let the Iraqis create their own 
future. As a mother, I want to protect my children; and the children in other 
countries.
 
 This isn't a new idea. In 1872, horrified by the 
Franco-Prussian war, reeling from the Civil War, Julia Ward Howe created 
Mother's Peace Day. She believed we needed a day set aside for people to enact 
the values of motherhood: values that "make for peace." The idea was to honor 
what would keep mothers' sons from being brutalized by war. It was to honor 
peace, and mothers' role in keeping their children safe. She worried not just 
about death and destruction, maiming and disfigurement. She cared that husbands 
and sons were made into killers. She saw all the work of mothers undone: "Our 
sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach 
them of mercy, charity, and patience."
 
 She wondered "Why do not the 
mothers of mankind interfere in these matters, to prevent the waste of human 
life of which they alone know and bear the cost?" Her words ring out today.
 
 And I'll tell you: mothers are ready to stand up, and to say: leave my 
children out of it. ++
 
 Mary Babic is the Director of Communications 
at WAND (Women's Action for New Directions) she can be reached at 
mbabic@wand.org | www.wand.org
 
 
 Eric Francis is on holiday. 
Jude, the editor of Political Waves, is standing in for his 
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