reckless uncertainty

Lukas is in the bath. I watch him sit naked and vulnerable as the tub fills with fresh water fit for drinking. I think of other mothers across the globe living in difficult conditions where they must wash their children in muddied or polluted rivers. I think of places where mothers carry water miles from a far off well and build a fire to boil the water for their children’s baths. I think of all the fears and anxiety that must arise when raising a child in such a harsh and challenging environment. How must it be to raise a child in a war zone where there may be no access to clean water? As I watch my chubby and rosy little boy race boats and dinosaurs through the bubbles I become quite certain that it is not a coincidence that in places such as this there is often a strong faith or religious practice present. It would be impossible to survive thinking that it was either all up to me as a mother to protect my child or that it was simply left up to chance. Somehow it would be a relief to have the responsibility not solely in my hands. With so much instability in my environment there would be much comfort placing my child in the hands of god. As I rub soap on my boy’s soft white hair it occurs to me that it is a kind of luxury to be able to question god.