butterfly. babies. love.

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 ...

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...

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 e...

my dearest elisea, you are our youngest. you are our forever baby and our little wonder. you are surrounded by love and adoration in our home. rocky has unending patience with you, your big sisters cannot get enough of your hilarious mannerisms, and daddy is clearly smitten. and me? i am consistently impressed and drawn to so many components of your complex personality. i find myself loving you in a special and profound way, on a daily basis. you see, little one, although you are our third child and our third girl, the experience of having you has brought something new to our lives. you are the youngest. you are not a twin. and so, you are different in many ways. you have an intuition about you, unlike i have seen in any other child your age. you are constantly the entertainer with your strong expressions and growing wit and humor. (you are currently on a mission to figure out what makes knock knock jokes so funny). you possess this strong maternal inclination and you lo...

You are six years old. And I will be forever thankful that I have known you outside of my womb for this long, that I have gotten the chance to watch the beginnings of your unique and dynamic journey, and that every single day our family has gained something special from you being in our lives. You are six years old. And I love so much of what that means. The parts that make me smile with the confidence of knowing you are still a small child. The parts of being six that make me take a deep breath and just soak in the moments of your innocence. You are six years old. And I hesitantly accept the parts that I do not completely love. The parts that make me look at your daddy with trepidation in the middle of one of your stories or questions. The facets of this age, of this growing up, that make me wince and tense up and struggle with letting you go. I know that you are only six. I see the way your face brightens when you point at a full moon or the proud smile when you re...

pictures and pictures and pictures.  some blurred by the swift movement of spontaneous laughter or sudden change in direction. some lit by bright eyes and wide smiles. some accidentally taken, by sticky-fingered sneaky hands. some grabbing the complexity of layers upon layers of color in the sky over Kerala and transforming it into tangible glory. some capturing the simplistic joy of running through the green grass of our backyard. some embodying the dreams of my parents and the faithfulness of a Mighty Creator. some attempting to freeze the exact moment i see a world of hope in the dark pupils of a small child's gaze in a busy village. some are posed and orchestrated to include all participants' best smiles and angles, all in coordinating colors. some are candid and realistic, no pattern or planning, just life.  some of these photographs will never be shared or rediscovered; some of them will not be looked at in the near future, maybe not for years and ye...

happy mother's day.... to the women who love their children from the moment they are born, and for the ones who slowly fall in love with their sweet little ones, like a beautiful slow waltz. to the women who have given birth, when things went just as planned, and to those whose entire pregnancy went against all odds, sometimes scary and sometimes trying, but working towards the perfect crescendo. to the women who prayed for a miracle and got it, and for those who are still praying, and still waiting. to the women who believed that life with children would be one way, and were shocked when it wasn't, and to the women who were somehow realistic with their expectations from the beginning, but were still surprised by the challenges and the beauty. to the women who have adopted or fostered, to the ones who have the special heart to love a child as their own, and the wisdom to know that when she has the ability to do that, that child truly is her own. to all the women who...