Being a mother to young children is a mixed bag. Sometimes, it’s downright miserable. Like last week when my loving daughters passed the stomach bug to yours truly (hence no post). Most of the time, it’s a matter of survival – days full of laundry, paperwork, homework, and trips to the grocery store. But sometimes it’s absolutely magical.

This week I had one of those moments. My eight-year-old was working on a reading comprehension assignment on women’s suffrage. After she went to bed I checked her work. This is what I found:

I did a double take. Yes. There it was. “It’s all you!”

As I mentioned in my first post, my daughter was floored by the election results. It confused her and opened her eyes to the world in a new way. When she heard the news, I spoke words of love and hope to her. This week, when I read the answer above, I knew she took my words to heart.

A month has passed since the election, and the holidays are upon us. For some, this is a time to rejoice in new leadership. For others, this is a time to reflect, to ponder where we go from here. For me, this is a time to take my daughter’s words to heart.

My generation has grown reliant, complacent, and cynical, leading many of us to be uninvolved. In politics. In charity. In our own communities. That ends now.

I can make a difference. And I will. So can you. You may feel you’re too small, too busy, too something. But you’re not.

Just today, I had lunch at school with my six-year-old daughter and some of the girls in her class. Behind us was a table of children with significant special needs. One of my daughter’s friends waved to a girl at the table. Then she pointed to her mouth. “Wipe your mouth!” she called pleasantly. “You have some food on your mouth!” The girl did so, smiling and enjoying her lunch just as we were.

My daughter’s friend turned back around and looked at me. “She can’t talk, you know.” I told her I knew. “She’s older than me, and she can’t talk.”

I told her it was nice to let her know she had food on her mouth. She gave me a slight smile that said, that’s just how we do it around here. We help each other out. 

Now, it’s important to note that my girls’ school is a special needs magnet with a strong integration program. The kids grow up together, interacting on a daily basis. Children with severe learning disabilities are part of their normal. This first grade girl wasn’t making fun of the girl with food on her mouth. She was doing her a favor, friend to friend. But she did something that mattered.

It mattered to me. It mattered to her friends. It mattered to the girl at the other table.

A small moment from a small child that was anything but small.

As a parent of young children, I see plenty – tears, laughter, snot, and scrapes to the knee. But I also see moments of hope for the future.

Want to see change? Start small. Stand on the shoulders of the suffragettes. Of rule breakers and world changers. Lend a hand. Give a smile. Don’t let fear or sorrow keep you down.

It’s all you.