Dear Mama of Four: 

I found your message yesterday.

 It has been there since December, tucked in among the thousands upon thousands of messages sent to me back when a post I wrote about meeting a Muslim man went viral. 

I did not know the messages were there. They were archived and hidden. 

To find them was a surprise. A delight. A wonder. 

I have tried to read them all and have only made it through a fraction. 
But your’s…Mama of Four. Your’s made me cry. 

The video you sent. Of your beautiful daughter. She is eleven years old…reading her poem. 

“I am Muslim and I am not a terrorist…
Why do you judge me for the color of my skin?  
The religion I practice? 
I have hands like yours 
Feet like yours. 
I have eyes that see.
I am Muslim and I am not a terrorist.”

When she began to cry, you comforted her. 

So when we talked today, I could put voice to love. Hear your words. 

“I love America. It is a good place for us. I have a job and my kids go to school. We love it here. Please tell them we love America too.”

I listened and you shared. 

I am so glad you shared…Mama of Four.

Your daughter is scared. At school they ask her, “Where will you go when Trump makes you leave?”

Oh dear Mama of Four…my heart breaks to hear of any child living with that fear. The wondering, the praying, the helplessness. 

Your son…He is hard sometimes to mama. He is protective of you and your family and becoming increasingly angered by those who ridicule and scare his big sister.  

My son…yes! My son, too, would stand up for me, his sister. I honor him for loving you that much.  

Yes, my mama-sister. This is where the love must be. 

Here with your son. Your daughter. 

Oh dear Mama of Four…
I feel your mama-pain. 

And I promise you now that I will love your babies as my own. And I will do what I can to bring other mamas along, who will love them too. 

Because when one child suffers all humanity cries. 

This isn’t a Muslim thing or a Christian thing, a Jewish, Black, White, or Brown thing. 

This is a mama thing

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