This Little Light


It’s Mother’s Day today.

This is a day where people write extensive pieces shouting the wonder of their maternal influencer; the equality of male and female parents (particularly the solo parents); the longing for mothers adorned with heavenly garments and the joy of being a mother. This year I also noted an increase in posts regarding the importance to consider women who are unable to fall pregnant, or struggling to fall pregnant. An important inclusion.

Mother’s Day is a great day. When I was a kid I remember bemoaning the lack of Children’s Day, and my father’s response of “Every day is children’s day”. He’s correct. Our last Mother’s Day with Mum was spent cooking dinner for the fam to sit down to. I’m sure there were presents and words and wishes and loving. If I had known it would be the last one I would have made more of an effort, I’m sure. But we don’t know. Ever. So I hope that what we did for her was enough to let her know that we love her very much.

This Mother’s Day, I woke up early to the sound of beloved arriving home from work. I got dressed in my running gear and she did the same. Today was the Mother’s Day Classic – a fun run and walk to raise money for breast cancer research. We battled the parking and arrived, pinked up in shirts and capes.

I had told beloved it was a 4km walk. Doable for her, given her foot woes of recent months. Except I was wrong, it was 5km, and that last kilometre made a difference in terms of pain management. Plus she had just come off a night shift, and is battling an ear infection. She’s a champion, my beloved.

On the way home we drove through Newcastle, and saw a group of women sitting at a coffee shop. I wondered why they were painted as Greek statues as they flurried over their phones and lattes.

Turns out they were actually dressed as angels. I saw a photo of them on social media this evening. They’d dressed up as angels and draped themselves over the tracks that the coal trains use. Over 50 people were arrested today during the protest regarding coal.

I’m all for believing in something strongly enough that you want to stand up and let your voice be heard. I really am. This is something I really admire.

But when your actions put the life of people who drive on those train tracks in danger, then I have a problem. When your actions could result in my beloved hitting you with a train, I have a problem. And when I see you enjoying your latte while scrolling through Facebook and other bits and pieces on your phone – both of which rely on coal – I have a problem.

I’m not saying that you shouldn’t stand for anything. But I am saying that you need to think through the entirety of your argument. You need to consider the pros and cons of what you are speaking out against, but more than that – you need to consider the people who are going to wear the brunt of your actions. Because they aren’t the nameless faceless coal companies you’re so angry with. The people who you inconvenienced today? They’re parents. Brothers. Sisters. Daughters. Sons. People coping with life. People not really coping, who maybe needed just one more thing to shove them over the edge. People who would have loved to have been with their family for mother’s day.

Which brings me back to my beloved and I. Running and walking to help fund breast cancer research.

Save the boobies.


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