My Hope

Sweat shops and child labor are not things I typically think about but I can’t shake them from my heart and mind. I recently found out that more than one of the children in the neighborhood started working at the age of eight before coming here. Eight… that’s two years older than M. I feel like it’s a battle to get her to clean her room… how on earth would she be ready to hold down employment in two short years? I know that part of her lack of responsibility is a direct result of my American mothering and catering to her needs, wants and whims. I’m trying to change that. But really, what eight year old is ready to work? I know the families sought this employment out of need. If you have to feed your family, you do what you have to do and everyone pitches in. I read this article a while back and my mind keeps wandering back to it again and again. https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2016/05/11/i-had-to-wear-pampers-many-poultry-industry-workers-allegedly-cant-even-t...

I love watching the Olympics when it rolls around every couple of years (I love both the Summer and Winter games). I enjoy some of the sports themselves, but it’s more than that. It’s the hope for world peace (for at least two brief weeks) and it’s seeing the realization of people’s lifelong dreams become reality. I love watching the backstories on the athletes almost as much as the competitions themselves and am amazed at the dedication by both the athletes themselves but also of their families. I was excited this year to hear a new group has been added. Ten people proudly marched in the parade of nations under the Olympic rings. They belong to no one country. They have fled their home countries and for all intents and purposes, they are homeless. They are the first team to represent refugees world-wide on the Olympic stage. The backstories of more than one of them had me tearing up. One swimmer fled from her homeland staying temporarily in one host country before le...