Carrie L. French

On Tuesday morning I finished stitching Carrie's name. The stitched name will become a part of a larger finished object, through the Mother's Day Project. Even so, I am considering this, my contribution to the project, my first finished handmade item of my 45th year.

I chose the color purple because Carrie was baptized as a Christian while in Iraq, and, according to this website, purple symbolizes penitence and mourning in Christian liturgy.

When I googled Carrie's name, several websites came up: this one from the military, this memorial from her family and friends, and one particularly disturbing site to which I refuse to link.

Remember the church group that gained notoriety after Matthew Shepard's death, for protesting at his funeral with signs saying "God hates fags"? They're still out there. One of the links that came up was a woman's account of the day that she went to protest at Carrie's funeral. She claims that "God killed Carrie because God hates America." Why does "God hate America?" Because of the fags, of course.

As a Buddhist-influenced spiritual practitioner, I really try to bring compassion to every situation and every being. This one, I find hard. My immediate reaction is amazement and anger. And that's without even getting into the homophobia, which is so extreme as to almost be laughable.

How dare they affront Carrie's family and friends like this? To have to face such hatred while mourning the loss of a loved one is inconceivable to me. I hope that my small part in the Mother's Day Project, through which I got to know Carrie just a little, will do a little bit to counter-act that negative energy.

Nearly everything in bloom in my garden at this time of year is purple...a fitting tribute...

Walk a mile for Mother's Day

Sometimes we miss the wisdom in cliches because we've heard them so much that we stop listening. Mother's Day is rife with cliches, so today I'm taking a moment to really think about it.

Mother's Day in the U.S. was first proposed as Mother's Day for Peace in 1870 by Julia Ward Howe. This year, I've volunteered for The Mother's Day Project, a project to remind us that war is personal. I've been sent a piece of muslin with the name of Carrie L. French, a 19-year old U.S. soldier who died while serving in Iraq. I will stitch her name, return it, and it will be used to create a tote bag, along with the names of the other 79 women who have died (so far) serving in Iraq. When the bag is complete, each stitcher will get to carry it for a while. We will document our experiences stitching and discussing the bag.

Carrie had graduated from high school just a year before she died, where she was a varsity cheerleader. She joined the National Guard to pay for college.

My own son will graduate from high school June 21 and leave for college in August. After a particularly painful time in our relationship, when I was trying to describe to him how I felt, he said, "I can only imagine what you're going through. I really won't be able to understand it until I become a parent myself." Ah, how true. Reminds me of that cliche about not judging someone until you've walked a mile in their shoes.

Parents, especially mothers, face a lot of judgment in our culture, for all the "mom and apple pie" rhetoric. There is one thing I know about being a parent. I love my kids fiercely and I want the best for them. I imagine that most if not all parents feel the same way. (Yes, I know there are parents who are abusive and downright mean, and I'm not excusing their behavior, but I bet even most of those parents wish they could do better.)

Although I haven't walked a mile in the shoes of Carrie's parents, I will think of them often as I stitch her name. And the next time I think of judging another parent's style, I will remember that they cherish their children as much as I do mine. And that what all of us parents need is more support, not more criticism, as we stumble through, and sometimes soar, in our own parenting journey.

p.s. To my kids, thanks for giving me a reason to celebrate Mother's Day! I love you!