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The Most Beautiful Mama

My mama has always been beautiful. It is a beauty that is natural and effortless and is the type of beauty that filled my heart with longing when I was a child. I can recall staring at how flawless the even color of her skin was, how adorable the few freckles were on her cheeks, how symmetrical her nose was. I remember thinking how absolutely perfect she looked in a sari, her pleats folded so pristinely, and the tuck of material into her waist seamless and smooth. I would often feel the softness of my mother’s hands. Hands that had delicate fingers that moved with precision and purpose. Hands that kneaded chapati dough and even held tight to a lawn mower. No matter what she did, her hands were always soft, always welcoming, always beautiful. But she never liked to focus on her own physical beauty. My mother’s true beauty comes from within. I understood certain aspects of this inner beauty when I was a child. The beauty that comes from her servant’s heart and her work ethic -

Fighting Perfectionism

My children are my favorite humans. They are loving, kind, creative, and funny. They have great memory for the smallest details and appreciate the littlest gestures. They respect teaching and learning in a very sincere way. They fill my days with joy and meaningful reflection. They have so much to offer the world around them. ...And they strive for perfection. I see a battle of perfection ensuing in my house. It manifests itself in the way I correct my children over that smallest detail or make "suggestions" when they show me their creative works. I feel it in my bones when I fight the need to compare them to their relatives or even to myself at their age. This inner conflict makes itself known when they get an answer marked incorrect and they are embarrassed (though they performed well above what was expected). But mainly, I see it in the way they simply crumble when they have had an error in judgment. When they see they have disappointed us in any way or they repeate

These Times...

Here is what I have come to be reminded of: I am in a place of privilege. I have a home. My husband and children are in good health. We do not need routine appointments nor do we depend on medicines or life-saving treatments. Though work looks very different these days, I am still working. I can stay connected to my students and my fellow teachers. I am getting paid for this work, and I get to do my job from the safety of my home. We have enough technological devices for all of us to be learning, attending meetings, and teaching at the same time. This is privilege. We may not be considered wealthy in many circles, but to much of the world, we are. We have running water, and easy access to food and other necessities. While pandemic swirls, threatens, and hovers, I find that people like me must do more. Whether we have the means and strength to do it now or the inspiration and planning to do it in the future, we should be invested in our communities and people. We have to help how and

conversations on mlk jr day

earlier this week, i had individual talks with each of my girls about martin luther king jr's life, his work, and his death. we often revisit his impact on society and the world, and every year their questions become more thoughtful. we discussed the difficulty of staying confident when those around you disagree with your stance, or what it really means to choose the progress of people over your own individual comfort and safety. we talked a lot about love, of sacrifice, and of walking humbly but living boldly. these conversations -- in which we celebrate the work done by mlk jr and the civil rights movement, and in which we listen to speeches and respond with smiles and tears and head nods, and in which we thank God for the divine service -- these conversations are beautiful and significant. but there are many hard parts to these conversations also. there is the part that must acknowledge deep division and hatred among people. i cannot simply say "that is how it

imago dei

a few days ago in church, i was reminded of the latin phrase "imago dei" ... and this theological doctrine that humans were made in the image of God reminded me of the beauty that we, as humans, are connected to divinity. there is a splendid and powerful foundation in this belief that mankind, in some way, resembles the Almighty. i thought about what an understanding of this concept would do -- not only for my girls' evaluation of themselves, but for their understanding and treatment of those around them. my daughters, remember that you are fierce. you have a spirit of boldness and a truth that blazes brightly. you are special and set apart and chosen for this specific time in the history of the world. i truly believe that, and i pray you do too. you have been given a confidence and an assurance that you are going to be alright. no matter the circumstance or the obstacle, there will be opportunities to succeed and overcome. if you do not, that is okay too. in al

conversations.

i find myself thinking a lot about the condition of this world, of this nation, and of the hearts of man. i just open my eyes and really look around or open my ears to truly listen, and i cannot help but face the reality of evil. the reality of corruption. the reality of prejudice. the reality of inequality. the reality of bigotry. the reality of entitlement. the reality of self-righteousness. the reality of immorality. the reality of sin. i have struggled with the presence of these realities for a significant part of my life, and maybe to some degree for all of my life. but now i struggle with them beyond my identity as a woman, or a child of immigrants, or an educator, or an indian-american, or a Christ follower. i struggle with these harsh realities as a mother. you see, we are trying our hardest to raise three people who will one day change their world. i believe that they can, and i pray that they will. these three little girls have hope in their souls and eternity i