I didn't go vote yesterday. I know, I know. If you don't vote, don't complain. The thing is, I can't seem to find a reason to vote anymore. Rarely does anyone even talk about the issues that really matter to me and if they do (and I vote for them) they end up doing the opposite of what they said they would do. The only two elections I really cared about this year were in Colorado and Oregon (if only I could have voted there). This morning Jackson woke up and said, "mom, who won- cancer, or your team?" I swear I did not refer to the people against labeling GMOs as the "cancer guys" but I guess my kids have learned enough over the last few years to come up with that clever nickname all on their own (and for that matter, I also didn't refer to the right to know group as "my team"... though I might start referring to them that way, I have always wanted a team to cheer for).
It is hard for me not to loose hope sometimes about the direction this world seems to want to continue heading. I mean, for goodness sake, we just wanted to
label GMOs. God forbid we would even think about banning them.
Cancer, birth defects, lymphoma (
and on and on), why wouldn't we want to continue growing and eating GMOs. In fact, why don't we grow more of them (and we will).
I have to look closely for the hope these days. But it is there. Yesterday, along with several other families, we helped a family from our homeschool group put up some more boards on the off grid home they are building (completely themselves) on their beautiful piece of land. I watched as all of our children ran around on the trails, playing happily and as all the adultss pitched in to the best of their ability, also smiling and laughing the whole time. After a few hours of work we all sat down together and shared a big pot of delicious homemade chili. I found myself overcome with a feeling of
this is how it is suppose to be. People working together to help provide for each other, and having fun doing it all the way.
Yes, I found hope there. And I found hope today, sitting in front of the fire with Nora, harvesting our dried beans. A much smaller bit of hope to be sure, but hope all the same. "Mama, these are jumping beans" she said has she broke apart a dried pod and laughed as the seeds flew everywhere. For a brief moment, I envied her just a bit. How wonderful it would be to have such a memory etched in my brain from childhood that could be referenced now as an adult (or any memory, for that matter, pertaining to the skills of self sufficiency). Then after a minute I decided, oh well, I get to learn it all now and that's fun too in a way. But Nora (and Grace and Jackson), they will enter into the great big world with at least a little bit of knowledge about how to provide for themselves. That gives me hope too.
