I was browsing Twitter, a place I don't participate at much, but it was 7:30am and I really didn't want to get out of bed so I was willing to read Kardashian tweets if I had to.
Tell me I'm not alone.
As I scrolled, I came upon a tweet from Father Bob Maguire. Oh, Father Bob. If you haven't heard of the world's greatest Catholic priest then you're about to. Father Bob embodies everything a priest should be, and while his fellow brethren were busy either being completely out of touch with their parishioners or disturbingly (and criminally) in touch with them, Bob has been a voice of compassion and genuine good.
This morning I read of his Pozible campaign. His aim is to raise $50,000 for his charity, the Father Bob Maguire Foundation. Every night on the streets of Melbourne, Father Bob and his supporters provide warm meals to our city's most vulnerable. He calls them 'the unloved and the unlovely.' Yep, those people we probably cross the street to avoid – the homeless, the drug addicted, the disadvantaged – these are Bob's people. Leave No-one Behind. These are words he lives by.
I am inspired to the very core of my being by Father Bob. His daily work ensures that the people society has forgotten receive basics like food but more than that, he gives them friendship and dignity. He does not ask, as we middle class taxpayers seem so righteously to do, what a person has done to fall on hard times. He does not measure whether they are worthy of kindness by the choices they have made, whether they have 'bludged' on welfare, been addicted to drugs, been in trouble with the law. He does not see their mistakes but rather what makes them human – frailties that exist within ALL of us.
Many of us were blessed to be born into middle class wealth and a solid family unit which buffered us from the consequences of our poor judgment or bad behaviour. Some of us have had chances that others have never been afforded. How quickly we seem to forget our good fortune and how selfishly we guard it.
And how frightening to think that so many of these same people identify as Christians.
Somewhere the true message has been lost. So thank God for Father Bob Maguire.
He inspires me to be a bigger person, to open my heart and open my mind. He inspires me. I consider it a privilege to have been baptised by Bob some 37 years ago and that he was able to baptise two of my kids as well.
There are not enough Father Bobs in the world. If you are able to make a pledge towards his campaign, awesome. Even better, if you have connections with big corporates, maybe you can help spread the message. There are nine days left to reach target and funding is only provided if the target is met.
Gosh, I hope he gets over the line.
And while we're on the subject of inspiration, though I berate myself constantly for all my failings as a mother, in general, I think mums are AWESOME. Especially as we approach Mother's Day, you'd better believe I think we are worthy of breakfast in bed.
NESCAFÉ Café Menu® commissioned a survey which revealed that the old 9-5 that Dolly used to sing about is actually more like 5-9. They made a little clip – it's definitely cute but I'm a bit annoyed my agent didn't call me to audition….
Who is singing? I know that voice!
Aside from the fact that when I do stop to have a break, I don't smile gratefully into my cup of Joe so much as slam it into my face as quickly as possible (if by Joe I mean fizzy black beverage – shoosh), I think this study identifies what we women have long known. Mothers don't ever 'knock off,' do we? Even on the rare occasions that I leave the house with Bren and without the kids, on some level, I am waiting for the phone call that beckons me back. Being away from my children always feels like holding my breath – I'm either rushing to get back to them or waiting to be summoned back via a terrible disaster that has befallen them in my absence.
For those mothers who juggle all of this AND a job in the 'real world' where the physical and emotional toll of motherhood is best hidden if you want to remain employed, my hat is so freaking off to you, it's like there was never a hat in the first place. What? Shoosh. Motherhood. Fist bump.
Oh, and stay tuned next week because I have all the coffee and I'm giving it away.