Ironing

Two days until I leave home for a month. Waves of uneasiness come and go, making their way throughout my body. But in my heart I know I'm ready.

Yesterday I bought some very cute little clothes for the children in Peace Village. It was fun picking them out, imagining who might wear what. I brought them home and washed them, laughing to myself as I tried to remember how many years have passed since the inside of my washing machine had seen clothes that size.

And then I ironed them, knowing full well that taking the time to iron wasn't practical. There were so many other things I needed to be doing to prepare, and the wrinkles would surely return and multiply during the 9,000 mile journey. But I ironed them anyway, with as much care as I would when ironing for my own children. That's when my innermost knowing showed up reminding me that we are one human family, and that these are my children.

As the iron glided, and the wrinkles vanished, I fantasized about being able to remove the children's disfigurements and deformities with the same ease. And I found myself wondering about the little arms and legs that would soon be filling the fabric.

Thread crossing thread. Interwoven to create one piece. One peace.