I’ve been quiet. Not absent just quiet.

Our garbage is empty. My bag is loaded with jars. Our medicine cabinet is becoming lighter. I’ve finished both seasons of Years of Living Dangerously. We’re voting with our dollars. We’re certainly not perfect, but we have progressed. But I am struggling. What more can we do? How do I spread the word without passing judgement? How do I argue respectfully with the people who claim that it is too late to make change? How can I gently notate an opportunity for improvement without offending? How will we look our babies in the eyes when they realize what is being left to them is not what we enjoyed? Is it the pregnancy hormones that cause me to feel anxiety every time I see someone drink out of a straw? Those crazy dreams that most expectant mothers experience are full of floods, melting ice caps, and fleeing neighbors. I am worried. But how do I use that fear to motivate others to make the same changes that we have? Changes that have enriched our lives and filled our hearts and tummies with life.  On my desk I carry the quote by Fabienne Fredrickson ‘The things you are passionate about are not random, they are your calling”. I used to think that was related to interior design and my obsession with making everything beautiful. In reality my passions are moral; do the right thing. My calling is stemmed in being sustainable, responsible, which inevitably makes everything more beautiful. Now how do I bottle that calling and share it? Because what is the point of having something that cannot be shared? Especially at a time like this? I have changed my home, but how do I help you change yours?