bird by bird (on my way to the chapel)

I can't believe I am getting married in two days. And to so many amazing and brilliant women. And especially to Mad. Mad, my fierce and lovely bride who has done such an amazing job of courting all of us all week long.

This will most likely be my last post until Sunday - I've got so many loose ends to tie up - finalizing the music, taste-testing all the champagne, arranging the flowers...

And it's not too late for you to join us. All we ask is that you write about a social justice issue that you are passionate about before Sunday AM. You can read the whole invitation here. Just make sure to share your link if you haven't already (you can leave it in the comments section here or at the original invite) and I'll get you on the guest list.

I can already picture it - a warm and sunny day (it's my wedding and it can be warm if I say so), dozens of radiant, powerful women all coming together on the side of making the world a better place. And of course...presents.

And on that note, let me leave you with something joyful to get you in the mood. Because social justice doesn't have to be discussed only in terms of all that is wrong in the world, but also sometimes, the things that are so completely right.

Right stopped by today in the form of a family that I worked with several years ago. Another family who'd fled Somali and landed in the US, a family with no connections and a son with a hole in his heart. They were living in a shed (and paying rent for the priviledge - can you imagine being THAT landlord?) and their son was progressively getting worse. The doctors needed to operate but would not do it till they could find a safe and clean place to for him to recover. When I met their son A, he had trouble breathing. Walking was hard. He was 4 but he didn't speak. He was a sick little guy.

Housing, surgery, another surgery, recovery, immigration battles, employment - it wasn't easy but they survived all of it, and we lost touch after they moved on. They stopped in today, and A. is a gorgeous, tall, handsome 8 year old. A soccer player who gets all A's. And boy, does he talk.
While it's not a commentary on a system broken, it sure felt really, really good to see a family who had perched on the brink and climbed out the other side.

Margaret Mead (and Anne Lamont) are right. It's bird by bird. It can be done this way.

Sometimes this is the only way we've got.