Uncle Tom

I've been absent lately. Not from life, but from the blog. Unfortunately, there is not enough time in the day for all of my "extra-curricular" activities. And that's a sad, sad realization. When am I going to have enough time for ME anyway? Not soon enough.

I have spent most of my extra time reading lately. After putting to my kids to bed on Wednesday, I saw a copy of Uncle Tom's Cabin on their bookshelf. I didn't know we owned this book, but we do. Have you read it? I haven't met anyone who has. I picked it up and took it back to bed with me. I figured it would be the kind of book that would put me to sleep while the husband was out. I read the first chapter, and the second... and the tenth. And then I cried in my pillow. When Aaron got home he apologized it was so late. I was so happy and said, "It's okay! We're all free! and our kids are sleeping safely in their beds!"

The next night I picked it up again and read to chapter 29-- which kept me awake until 2 am. I had to leave my bedroom to cry this time because it was more of a sob. I finished it on Friday. (There's nothing like retiring to bed on Friday night at 7 so you can curl up with a good book! I love those kinds of weekends.) But I didn't love waking up on Saturday with puffy eyes. I read it in three nights and sobbed like a baby each night. I think I just *might* be emotionally unstable. Either that or I have a hormonal disorder.

The past few days, I've wondered what (if anything) I should say about it on my blog. If I had hours, I could tell you why I loved it. How it changed me. But there is a baby tugging at my ankle as I type now. What I can say is that it made me so appreciative of everything I have, not just the temporal things like my house, food on the table, clothes and shoes for my children--- but for things that money can't buy... acceptance, love, health, respect, and most importantly freedom. I was super emotional on 9/11 and couldn't keep the tears away as I thought about how BLESSED we are. I went on a long walk in a beautiful, shaded area while my husband and boys played soccer at a park. At one point, I literally had to stop and put my hands over my face and cry. The sun was shining through the leaves on the trees. The breeze was on my face and my baby was sleeping peacefully in his stroller. Life isn't easy, but we are FREE to play soccer, go on long walks whenever want, worship, laugh, and be together as a family, which is most important... a luxury that Uncle Tom and many other blacks in 1852 didn't have. So many young mothers were torn from their babies, sold to different owners, never to see or hear from one another again. I honestly believe I would rather have a child die in my arms than to watch them being taken away-- not ever knowing how they are being treated or who is caring for them.

One of the heroines in this book is a young mother, Eliza, who overhears her owners discussing the sale of her young son, Harry. It's a done deal and he will be taken in the morning. Without having a penny in her pocket or knowledge of where they will end up, she wakes her son in the middle of the night and runs. She carries him for hours without stopping. Harry was old enough to walk by her side, but she wouldn't put him down. He was as light as a feather that night as she ran. She knew that the farther she got, the safer he was. This passage in the book still has me thinking about my own babies and what I would do if they were in danger:

"If it were your Harry or your Willie, that were going to be torn from you by a brutal trader, to-morrow morning, ---if you had seen the man, and heard that the papers were signed and delivered, and you had only from twelve o'clock till morning to make good your escape, ---how fast could you walk? How many miles could you make in those few brief hours, with the darling at your bosom, ---the little sleepy head on your shoulder, ---the small, soft arms trustingly holding on to your neck?" (Uncle Tom's Cabin, page 48)

This book not only made me grateful, but it makes me want to fight.. To stand up for everything good and virtuous and moral. I have four little boys and I might not be able to carry them all night, but I can fight for them. And I can BE THERE for them... which means, I must go now. This is the best way to start off a Monday-- with boxing gloves on!