photo credit: Coral Gomez

I know I should care about Japan. And I do. I know I should care about the Middle East. And I do. I know I should care about poverty, and I do, and I know I should care about abuse, and I do.

I teach my students about social issues, we read about global issues, we study the ideas of sympathy and empathy and why it's important to care. I sometimes contribute money to disaster funds (I do) and I try not to destroy the environment any more than any North American who drives a car or buys stuff in grocery stores (I do...try, that is.)

But sometimes, friends, I have to say: I need to step back, say prayers (put all of these things in the hands of God), and enjoy very simple things: my gardenia plant is in bloom in my kitchen. The soft brown of our eggs, collected freshly each day from our chickens, which, incidentally, eat all the leftover peelings and apple cores and reduce waste in my kitchen. The sound of a new song that moves me (currently it's an old song, a piece by Beethoven that I can't stop listening to). The rapid approach of Naw Ruz, when I will break bread with old friends and new, and dance the evening away...

My dad's birthday, 81 years old today. I'm glad he's alive, I'm glad he's well, and I'm glad he's my dad.

My daughter's impending visit: counting the days.

My husband's laughter.

Holding a small baby at work today when one of the moms came in to school, a tiny girl named Lira.

Chickadees at the bird feeder.

Poetry.

I have to stop and count all the little things I'm grateful for, so that I can support my own capacity to care about the bigger things.

That's all for now.