30 May 2014

5 weeks old

super ben to the rescue!!!

he feels extra big and chunky this week.....
...especially when compared to this sweet 2-week old picture of him! dear, lovely dude.

This week, Ben has begun to smile more and more, and responds so much to us - he especially loves singing and rocking, and sucking on Toni's pinkie finger to calm down and go to sleep. Toni and I tend to sing to him mostly in French - what is it about French lullabies that are so lovely? My favourite is 'Souviens-toi,' a hymn from the LDS French hymnbook. Sadly, it's only in the French version, and was written by this lovely Parisian couple in the branch I attended back in 2005. I copied the words below - they are so, so lovely, and represent a conversation a parent has with their child ("do you remember, my child?") about heaven, where the child was not too long ago, and if they remember it, and if they can tell us all about it here... 


Souviens-toi, mon enfant: Tes parents divins
Te serraient dans leurs bras, ce temps n’est pas loin.
Aujourd’hui, tu es là, présent merveilleux,
Ton regard brille encore du reflet des cieux.
Parle-moi, mon enfant, de ces lieux bénis
Car pour toi est léger le voile d’oubli.

Souviens-toi, mon enfant des bois, des cités.
Pouvons-nous ici bas les imaginer?
Et le ciel jusqu’au soir, est-il rose ou gris?
Le soleil attend-il la neige ou la pluie?
Conte-moi, mon enfant, la couleur des prés
Et le chant des oiseaux d’un monde oublié.

Souviens-toi, mon enfant: A l’aube des temps,
Nous étions des amis jouant dans le vent.
Puis un jour, dans la joie nous avons choisi
D’accepter du Seigneur le grand plan de vie.
Ce soir là, mon enfant, nous avons promis
Par l’amour, par la foi, d’être réunis.


The last lines are also lovely - "One day, we chose to accept God's eternal plan. On that evening, my child, we promised that through love, through faith, we would be reunited."

Gosh it makes me cry. But truly! These babes are direct from heaven. They are perfect, and so wonderful. I remember a conversation with Leslie I had when we came back from Mozambique ten years ago, where we worked with a lot of abused children at the Colegio Infantil. Their stories were excruciating, and Leslie said that these dear children must return to heaven every night in their sleep - they must have that grace to get through the terrible circumstances they are forced into on earth. I loved that - it's so beautiful, and I think it must be true. Anyone watching a newborn baby sleep would believe it :) Seeing how they talk and smile and dream and laugh while dozing off :) Precious little ones! I still can't believe we have one of our own. How did we get so lucky? What could we ever do to deserve such a blessing?

21 May 2014

dear baby




It's incredible how quickly this first month of Ben has passed. He slotted himself into our lives so naturally, immediately bringing us such indescribable joy that has only increased as each day has gone on. He's utterly spoiled us with his sweet, calm manner. He's made our transition to parenthood so easy and beautiful, we just couldn't be more amazed or grateful at his perfect presence! This last week he has really started to respond to us, which is even more lovely. If he's woken up or startled or upset, he calms immediately when picked up by us, and returns to his mellow contentment, resting his head on our shoulders and gazing round at the world. 

Is there anything better in the world than that? Than picking up your dear baby and feeling them melt in comfort? Ah! Ben, we love you so.





14 May 2014

Out and about with Benjamin

Springtime in Oxford is superb - wildflowers! Blossoming trees! Ducklings, goslings, lamb-lings all over! Green green green! It's fantastic, and we've been trying to show it off to Ben as much as possible. We live just opposite from Christ Church Meadow, a glorious field surrounded by the Isis tributary of the Thames, and studded with the dreaming spires in the distance. Popping Ben into one of our various baby-wearing devices and strutting out into the fields for walks is something we dreamed of the last 9 months - and we take daily advantage of the beauty, now that our man is officially here!
Sometimes pastries are involved too. (p.s. the patissier of this establishment guessed that Ben was 2 months old! Ah! 2 weeks, not months! :)
(I have the most handsome husband ever.)


This is basically the driveway to our block of flats - we're home in 45 seconds from this photo. GAH! Let's not talk about the fact that we're moving away in just 2 months, k?

....And a last solo shot of Ben, because: seriously. Seriously, this dude is perfection. Everyday we love him more and more. (I didn't know that was possible?)


03 May 2014

First week with Benjamin

You guys, we so lucked out with this baby. He is perfection and we love him to pieces. I would write more, but I would just gush. Every night before we go to bed I cry a little out of joy and gratitude. I've never had so many happy tears! ah, Ben. How happy you have made Toni and me....








17 January 2014

there are good people in the world



Toni is back in Ethiopia as of today. He has a month more of work ahead of him to finish up the data collection phase of his PhD, and has also taken advantage of being in Addis to check up on some of the things we left behind when we moved back to the UK in August...

The main thing: a pilot fund we created with the help of Dr. Aynalem, an oncologist at the Black Lion Hospital. (Featured in that film above that we made about cancer care in Ethiopia.) I've said this to many of you before, but cancer care in Ethiopia, and most of the developing world, essentially does not exist. While there are thousands of campaigns and organisations to help treat communicable diseases - HIV, malaria, TB etc - cancer seems too big and scary and expensive an issue, for either governments or aid agencies, so the services just aren't there. Black Lion Hospital has the only cancer centre in Ethiopia - for a population of over 80 million. There are 3 oncologists. You can imagine the demand!

It's grossly unfair to assume that if you live in a developing country and get cancer, you are just going to have to die a slow and painful death. (This is exactly what happens in most every case.) Recognising the immensity of the problem, and mine + Toni's teeny tiny smallness, we chatted with Aynalem to see what initial steps could be made to improve the situation. He said it outright - a discretionary fund that could be used for poor patients who could not afford treatment or medications, or who had traveled to the city for treatment and had to sleep on the street because they couldn't afford basic accommodation. We set it up, left in August, and Toni went back today - today! - to see what happened.

Let me tell you: Dr. Aynalem is one of the best men I have ever met. His honesty and commitment to his patients is seriously unparalleled. You don't understand - there are more Ethiopian doctors in the city of Chicago than the entire country of Ethiopia. You are paid $300/month to be a doctor in Ethiopia. That's it. It is an immense personal sacrifice to stay in the country, and I do not blame anyone for seeking better offers elsewhere. And I know Aynalem has had them - but instead, he sticks it out with the extremely limited resources he is given. RAD.

And on meeting Toni today, he handed him a letter carefully listing every patient who benefited from the fund so far - with individual receipts signed by him + the patient detailing what the funds went to. One woman was able to get an MRI. Another medical student was able to get an early cancerous growth in his anus removed successfully, and can now continue his studies. It goes on and on. Two dozen people were able to get life-saving treatment that they would have had no access to otherwise. Think of it!

This is such a basic form of assistance - no middle man, no umbrella organisation, just immediate and very critical needs that can now be filled when otherwise they would have been left to simply fester and get worse, completely ruining these peoples' lives. I could write a whole other post about the processes of development, or charity and giving, and what I feel I've learned these last 10 years since that first trip to Beira, Mozambique... but suffice it to say: just giving cash to impoverished communities to do with it what THEY need, not what you THINK they need, will 100%, always be more effective. (It's kind of what my whole PhD thesis is about too.)

But this couldn't have happened without Aynalem - without having him there to manage the fund, to provide the treatment AND the care for his patients to know who needs what. He's a champion. I cannot say enough how much I admire this man, and how happy I am to have worked with him.

As I said, this was sort of a pilot - to see how things would go if we started this kind of fund. And we really want to keep it going, but also make it as strategic and effective as possible. Toni's having lunch with Aynalem in a couple days to discuss more. And we will really need more help moving forward, in case you're keen... (honestly, please do get in touch if able.)

But I have to say: sitting in my comfortable flat in beautiful Oxford, it's been easy to feel very removed from Ethiopia and the people we met there. It's ironic that day in, day out I write my thesis about these people - about their lives and struggles, in a setting that is so resource-full it's shocking. I wrote about that below - being pregnant here, and having every kind of care at my fingertips - ah! I will never ever forget what a privilege that is. I'm so happy Toni is back in Addis this month, and able to reconnect in person with that grand world we love so dearly. This day is one of the happiest I've ever known (in a very, VERY happy time at that). And I can't wait to see how all the weeks and months coming forward unfold.

Até mais!!
jooj.

26 November 2013

JOY!

I know I don't write on this blog much anymore, but I feel I should record (for my own posterity and memory), my feelings at being pregnant for the first time, given I'm now halfway through... a monumental thing indeed!

Thoughts, the first. 

As the title of the post suggests, to me it's joy - joy, joy joy ! ! ! - that I have felt most these last 20 weeks. (Or rather, 14, considering I didn't find out til I was 6 weeks in :). And while I'm writing this and not Toni, I'd have to put him in that category too. As my belly has grown, our joy seems to exponentially increase. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love dear Toni these days, not only because he has done a million and one things daily for me to make sure I'm comfortable and healthy, but just to know that we have this whole, new and exciting life together that we cannot predict or really imagine as of now. Seeing the way he constantly cares for me, without being asked, and without complaint, I know how wonderful he'll be as a dad, and it makes me that much more grateful to be a co-parent with him to this darling little one (and then some, insha'Allah!).

When she heard I was expecting, a good friend of ours said 'until now, you've known only two dimensions of love, and now you're going to know a third.' So beautiful! I already feel such a growth in love even with the baby inside, both for this dear child and for Toni too, I can't fathom what that birthday will feel like.

Before you all write me off as a whacked out, idealistic pregnant woman, I know I know it will be hard. I know we won't sleep, I know parenthood turns your lives upside down and you're never the same. But that's what we want. That's why we're having kids. We've lived three decades for ourselves, our own interests and pursuits, it's time we turn our lives over to raising a child and building something larger than just our own lives. I get it, I get that I'll be tired and frustrated and at a loss - you don't need to remind me! (But people love to all the time.) I know the greatest joys I've known have been in times of struggle, when I'm doing hard things, and this hard thing will put the rest to shame. So wouldn't the joy, too? We're ready and prepared for the downs as well as the ups, even if we don't yet know how far down those downs will be. (So stop reminding me, random strangers I don't really know that well and the million begrudging parenting articles out there that say 'you have no idea'. Sheesh.)

Thoughts, the second.

It's no secret I've been working on maternal health for several years now, and when I discovered I was pregnant, just three weeks later I was supposed to fly to the DR Congo to conduct a survey of a pre-conception and ante-natal care project run by Handicap International in the environs of Kinshasa. I would have been 10 weeks pregnant, was already frightfully nauseated, and my GP wouldn't prescribe me with anti-malarials. My boss pulled the plug and sent someone else instead.

I was a bit devastated. I had really wanted to see DR Congo, and the project was fascinating. But I knew I would've been awful at the job, given how sick and tired I was, and ultimately, like my boss said: there's no use me, a maternal health patient, going to remote areas of the Congo to evaluate the very paucity of maternal health services.

It only reinforced to me again how important maternal care and support are, and how grossly unfair it is that I can arbitrarily choose to NOT be in a situation where I would be at risk, just because of my privileged birth in the US, and privileged home in the UK.

This connects with the thoughts above, that ultimately, this pregnancy is only reinforcing to me how very very critical it is that reproduction is chosen, not forced, and that the woman who must undergo the debilitating state of pregnancy, labour, postpartum, is adequately supported. Not just with medical care for any impending crisis (considering they remain the exception, not the rule), but also emotionally, socially, domestically... Toni is the ultimate house-husband these days, and I think of the women I work with who have no relief after conception. Their roles in domestic labour are as arduous as they were before, and the injustice of this is criminal.

At the same time, most African countries (Ethiopia included), allow women to rest 40 days post-birth, to recover her strength, to do NOTHING but learn to nurse that baby, while neighbours, relatives, husbands, take over her own care and all other domestic duties. How alone most women in Europe, in North America, feel post-birth! With a screaming baby, forced to 'snap back' to your old life, your old body. So just to say, we can all learn from the caring and support systems we've developed cross-nations. Can I have both? (With a husband like Toni, methinks yes. I AM SO DANG LUCKY I KNOW IT.)

Thoughts, the conclusion.

We're really, ridiculously happy. We have another ultrasound this week to check on babe's progress, and to see if we're having a boy or girl. I've been feeling those flutters, and 'quickening' of early baby movements for the last two weeks, and I can't wait to see our babe on that screen again! Whatever the outcome, whatever happens with this baby in the next 20 weeks and thereafter, I have been privileged to nurture him/her for these last five months, and my depth of love and feeling has increased. I've been cared and supported by a solid medical system + a solid group of friends, family and husband from day one, and gosh darn it if I will.not.stop working (in whatever capacity that may be, back at the UN? at an NGO? in academia?) on issues of maternal health globally to ensure that level of care is the norm, not a privileged exception.


The end.


28 October 2013

Per request!

Toni is basically the nicest husband ever. His support to me- especially these last four (!!!) months of pregnancy and sickness and fatigue - has been so wonderful. I love him.

He also said very nice things about me on Facebook after church yesterday and the talk I gave in Sacrament Meeting. Per Leslie and Steph's request - I've copied it all below. I wanted to talk about the importance of women in the church, and how much they've done for the organisation and its members. And I wanted to relate this to Christ's ministry which concentrated so much on women, and put up some arguments about how much we need to support and care for the oppressed of the earth. This is all sort of my testimony in it's rawest state, and I cried quite a bit towards the end - reading Christ's words to the Pharisees, and talking about Sister Yewinshet from Ethiopia. Phew! People were very kind after, and so many women (especially single, elderly, childless etc) told me they needed that talk - they needed to have someone talk about them in an "unconventional" way - remind us all how AMAZING early church women were in their leadership and strength, their outspokenness to guide the Gospel. (Not to say women are not amazing now, I just wish they were more visible :)

Ok, will stop there :) Here you go-


Astonishingly enough, I’m actually happy to speak to you today - Brother Reeves asked if I’d be willing to speak on one of the general Relief Society Presidents of the church, as part of this month’s Sacrament theme of Prophets. I nearly teared up reading his email, so happy to see such a welcome inclusion of women in the history of the church. I chose Eliza R Snow as the subject of my talk, a woman who is incredibly interesting and inspiring to me, and was also an intrinsic part of the early church’s development. Given we get a whole year of lessons based on her brother, the Prophet Lorenzo Snow, Eliza deserves at least a Sacrament talk - if not much more! I hope that in my talk I am able to do justice to this woman, and the powerful work of the early Relief Society. For me and my own testimony of the Gospel, it’s very important to reclaim some of the more radical and diverse elements of our history. In my professional life, both at home and abroad, I have seen both impoverished communities and women especially crushed under customs which demand their silence. It is hard to not see how poverty and gender both continue to lead to the worst forms of oppression across the globe. I love the Gospel because we follow Jesus Christ in all things, and it was He who said ‘the first shall be last, and the last shall be first.’ I cannot wait for the day when the humbled of the earth are given their true seat of dignity, and what I love about Eliza Snow and the work of the Relief Society is the way in which this organization, shaped so much by the leadership of President Snow, does nothing so well as lift up the lowly and preach a Gospel of inclusivity. For me, that is the core of what we are meant to do as disciples of Jesus Christ, and in studying powerful examples of such inclusive leadership, I’m inspired to do better - to not just wait for that eventual day when the last shall be first, but try to work on that here and now.

Eliza Snow was a unique woman from the very outset of her life. She broke restrictive customs and was not afraid to assert her place and share her talents. Born to progressive parents, she received all the educational opportunities given to her brothers. Her father, a Justice of the Peace in the American state of Iowa, hired Eliza in his office to act as a clerk. This position was incredibly influential on Eliza’s later work in organising and administering the Relief Society Organisation - she was able to develop skills at that time reserved for men, and was also not shy about working within a “man’s world.”

Eliza’s conversion to Mormonism itself is also striking in demonstrating her prioritisation of personal growth and knowledge. She first met Joseph Smith in Kirtland, Ohio in 1831, but didn’t join the church until four years after. She was deliberate and thoughtful about converting to the church, following a sincere method of enquiry and introspection that I find again, very inspiring. Eliza didn’t do anything lightly - she was not a follower, she pursued knowledge and truth in a slow, questioning manner that only proved to create a firmer testimony in herself later on. Describing her final decision to join the church, Eliza explained that in a period of meditative reflection, “I saw a beautiful candle with an unusually long, bright blaze directly over my feet. I sought to know the interpretation and received the following: The lamp of intelligence shall be lighted over your path, and I was satisfied.”

That phrase “the lamp of intelligence” is so beautiful, and shows how Eliza privileged the education she could receive in the church, of both temporal and spiritual things. As her life and work moved forward, Eliza continued to not only improve her own knowledge and learning, but inspired other women around her to do the same. Eliza Snow is probably best known in the church for the beautiful hymns she wrote - especially “O, My Father.” Eliza was an incredibly talented and renown poet and writer, and was even asked to pen a national obituary at the death of President Abraham Lincoln. While “O, My Father” is particularly beautiful in its message about our Heavenly Mother, I want to read some lines of another one of her less famed hymns, number 273 “Truth Reflects Upon Our Senses.” I want to read the last two verses because again, they typify to me the way in which Eliza preached this Gospel of inclusivity:

If I love my neighbor dearer, and his mote I would erase,
the light should shine the clearer, for the eye’s a tender place.
Others I have oft reproved, for an object like a mote,
now I wish this beam removed, oh, that tears would wash it out.

Charity and love are healing; these will give the clearest sight,
when I saw my brother’s failing, I was not exactly right.
Now I’ll take no further trouble; Jesus’ love is all my theme;
little motes are but a bubble when I think upon the beam.

While these words completely and beautifully summarize our need to not judge others, I want to point out that Eliza Snow herself would in many ways be considered an “outsider” in the ways she defied customary expectations of Mormon women. While she was married to Brigham Young, Eliza never had children. Brigham Young called her a “Priestess, Prophetess, and Presidentess” of the church, and she held numerous leadership positions in the church - not only as General Relief Society President, but also president of Deseret Hospital in Salt Lake City, prolific author and editor of the newspaper the Women’s Exponent, and president of the Women’s Department of the Endowment House. Eliza traveled heavily - both within the US and also to Egypt and Palestine. While never a mother or housewife, Eliza did not see this as some personal failure, despite the church’s heavy emphasis on home and family, especially for women. Eliza believed fully in working to build up the Gospel of Christ, and encouraged all residents of the expanding Salt Lake valley to do the same thing - no matter their age, station or gender. Eliza did not judge, and she did not expect everyone to be the same - she encouraged members of the church to use their talents where they were best served, both in secular and spiritual callings.

One niece of Brigham Young wrote to Eliza feeling dejected that a potential marriage suit had fallen through. She asked the President, “Will I ever get married?” In reply, Eliza wrote “while unmarried, one cannot be fulfilling the requisition of maternity, but let me ask, is it not important that those already born should be cultivated and reared as that others should be born?” In other words, there’s plenty of work to be done to uplift and instruct each other - motherhood aside. There’s much work we can all do at all stages of our life, and there is not one way to work in the Gospel of Christ - we all have a mission and a responsibility unique to our own talents. There’s no room for judgment on what stage anyone is at in their own lives - we’re all striving to be like Christ and follow His example, and in the end that’s all that matters.

Eliza continued to champion women especially in their capacity to work and improve their lives and those of others around them - to the Relief Society sisters, President Snow said, “If any of the daughters and mothers in Israel are feeling in the least limited in their present spheres, they will now find ample scope for every power and capability for doing good with which they are most liberally endowed.” The vehicle of this remarkable organization of women, the Relief Society, would support and allow women to expand their spheres and do good within their community. In the early church, one of the principle ways this was manifest was the incredible number of women who were sent to medical schools for training to become doctors and nurses. President Snow said to the Relief Society sisters, “are there here, now, any sisters who have ambition enough, and realize the necessity of it, to take up this study? There are some who are naturally inclined, and such ones would do well to study Medicine… if they cannot meet their own expenses, we have means of doing so.” With the number of educated sisters at hand, the Relief Society established the Deseret Hospital in 1882, residents of Salt Lake had access to quality medical care, and a whole generation of women were educated that otherwise would not have been.

For me, this is the pinnacle of that lamp of intelligence Eliza had seen while studying the Gospel. She had said that the Relief Society was just as much a part of the restoration of Christ’s church as the Priesthood or Temple. Indeed, she felt profoundly the need to follow Christ’s example fully, especially in His ministry to the needy and outcast members of society. When you study Christ’s ministry in detail, it is obvious how often He was chastised for speaking with and healing those members of society supposedly too far below Him - not worthy of His attention. When the woman taken into adultery was brought to Christ by an angry mob intent on stoning her, the clerics of the day were attempting to trick Christ into defending such a sinful creature. Instead, He responded with the beautiful line, “let he who is without sin, cast the first stone.” When the woman came to wash Christ’s feet with expensive ointment and her tears, the Pharisees again, chastised Him for allowing such a renown sinner to touch his feet and enter His company - saying that if Christ was truly a Prophet, He would know who that woman was and would not have allowed her near. In response, Christ says, in Luke 7:44-48:

And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head.

Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman hath since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet.

My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment.

Wherefore, I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.

And he said to the woman, Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace.

Or another of my favourite stories, of the woman at the well. When Christ approached the woman for a drink, His Apostles had left Him, and the woman was astonished, asking (in John 4:9):

How is it that thou, being a Jew, askest drink of me, which am a woman of Samaria? For the Jews have no dealings with the Samaritans.

To me, Christ reversed the social order, lifting up those that others had cast aside because of their poverty or sins. It’s not a coincidence to me that so many of those He ministered to in this way were women. With the theme, Charity Never Faileth, the Relief Society is to me the most natural restoration of Christ’s mission. Built up by remarkable foremothers like Eliza R Snow, I’m so happy to be a member of that organisation which does nothing but lift and support our ward and community members without judgment. I think about all the Relief Society congregations I’ve been privileged to be a part of since I turned 18, and think President Snow would be proud to see what the organisation she worked so hard to build had become in these days. I want to end in telling you about the Relief Society in my branch in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia last year. With less than ten members, it was a small group of women, but was led by President Yewinshet, an amazing woman whose dedication and faith were truly inspiring to me. Like most Mormons in Ethiopia, Yewinshet was the only member in her family. Inactivity in the branch was exceptionally common - every week there was at least two baptisms, but the number of people who continued to come to meetings remained small. But Yewinshet never missed a Sunday. Born blind, Yewinshet ran a small training school she had built for disabled people to learn essential jobs skills so they wouldn’t have to rely on begging to survive. She worked with hardly any budget, and gave all of herself - her time, her resources, her talents - both to that important work, and to the sisters of the Relief Society. Every week she bore a strong testimony of her faith in God, a faith that to be honest, in her circumstances, and given the opposition I know she faced at home, I doubt I would be strong enough to profess. Yewinshet was dedicating her life to serving the downtrodden of society - she did so without praise or acclaim, and to me, is the ultimate example of the love we as disciples of Christ are meant to project.

I hope that we can learn from the example of Eliza Snow, and so many around us, who use their unique talents to follow Christ and build up His people. We’re all outsiders in one way or another, but those external social markers mean little in comparison to our heart’s desire to serve Christ’s people - like King Benjamin said, “we are all beggars,” giving what little we have.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.