Mhairi Forrest

Recently, I read an article on the plight of Afghani women since the Taliban has lost power. I have to admit, the number of seconds in any month I devote to thinking about anyone in Afghanistan could be counted on one hand. I was disturbed by the report, especially by the story of one young mother who’d set herself on fire to escape her abusive husband. She’d been married to him as a girl. Illiterate, with no hope, she took a can of gasoline, poured it over her body, and immolated herself. I was horrified to read that her actions are not uncommon in her culture.

I’ve been disgusted, over the years, by the injustice visited on women in some Muslim countries and even in Muslim communities in the West: murders of females by men protecting an evil and twisted lie called family honour; women beaten and imprisoned for being unaccompanied in public; teachers of girls who are harassed for daring to educate them; little ones, who should be playing with dolls, sold to men as prospective brides.

I’m ashamed to say, I’ve always let my disgust and fury satisfy me. As if my emotional response was enough to prove I care. Then I put the articles down, or change the channel, and move on to lighter fare.

I can’t say there was anything more dramatic or moving in this story. When I finished reading, I felt the familiar anger at their suffering. I’d read stories like it before, but this time I couldn’t just walk away. I didn’t want to be mollified with cheap compassion. I knew that if I let myself be angry at the injustice I was seeing and did nothing, my heart would grow colder.

As I thought about the suffering of women in that part of the world, my favourite scripture from the Old Testament came to mind: “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good tidings to the poor; he has sent me to heal the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of prison to those who are bound” (Isaiah 61:1). When Jesus began his public life, these are the verses he identified himself with. This was and still is his mission and as someone who follows him, it has to be my mission too.

So, I’m beginning a movement, which, so far, has one member, called, For The Daughters Of Allah. I’m starting with prayer and fasting, two of the most powerful weapons in my arsenal. Eventually, my vision is to support girls’ schools, shelters and micro-businesses in Muslim communities where women have no options. I’m putting out the call to others to join me. We can make a difference, even if it’s giving some young girl more hope than setting herself on fire affords.

Maybe it’s wacky that an Americanized Scot thinks she can influence a problem this big, but I believe God can take this little acorn and multiply it. He’s not looking for people who have all the answers to make a difference, he’s looking for people who’ll say yes. What I’ve discovered is that sometimes saying yes is most difficult of all.

I recognize I’m generalizing here, but look around, how many relationships and marriages are good? And are the numbers getting better? Beginning with the initial stages of dating, I don’t believe the way men and women meet and form relationships in our culture is working.

I’d like to propose a different way. It’s counter-cultural and for some, it won’t make any sense, but it’s how I’ve chosen to live. Let’s stop dating and learn to appreciate the people who come into our lives as friends, enjoying them without any expectation they’ll feed something in our hearts and souls they’re not equipped to fill. They may be able to satisfy that need temporarily, but eventually, they’ll run dry and although true commitment is birthed in life’s deserts, unfortunately, many relationships are aborted there instead.

People fail. It’s really simple. They screw up, get sick, act selfishly; some of them have no interest in sticking around. If our expectation is that some human being is going to meet our every need, we’re fooling ourselves; yet, that’s exactly what our culture proposes dating, as it exists, will accomplish. Make me happy; make me feel worthy and worthwhile; shore up the places in me that feel like they’re crumbling. I need your strength, your beauty, your money, your sexuality, your companionship so I can feel better about me.

When we find someone who’s able to provide us those things, we’ll give him or her anything in order not to feel empty again. So, relationships and love are reduced to transactions…and what happens when the resources run out? Any marriage built on this foundation is built on sand.

I try to treat the men in my life with the honour and respect they deserve. I get to know them as friends without the complications of romantic and sexual connections. It’s amazing what you’ll discover about someone when they’re no longer trying to impress you. I believe it will be out of these relationships I’ll find the person I’m to spend my life with. This does not mean I’m looking at all the guys in my life as potential husbands, but it does mean that no one who hasn’t taken the time to develop a foundation of friendship with me has any chance of taking it farther.

This has not been an easy choice. I like to be wanted as much as anyone, but I came to the decision not to date a year and a half ago when I recognized how wrong it would be for me to engage the heart of anyone I wasn’t convinced I could give back to completely. I didn’t want to take something so precious and not be able to honour the gift as it deserved.

Our hearts and bodies are like treasure caves, filled with valuables, I like to imagine along the lines of Tutankhamun’s tomb, and just as there are passwords on our bank accounts and locks on our doors, there should be a guard over the entrance to our caves. I’m not going to let just anyone who pays me some attention, or shows some interest in me to take from my cave, and I’m not going to take from theirs. How foolish is it that we allow people we’d never give our social security numbers to to have pieces of our hearts and access to our bodies?

I know I’ve set the bar really high for anyone who wants admission to the deepest parts of me, but I don’t want ten men to go over, only one. For many of us, we set the bar low, so more people can get over it, try to find someone worthy in the crowd and then wonder why there’s so much disappointment and pain. I believe my job right now is to keep adding to the treasury by working on who I am, caring for my body, pursuing my dreams. Then, when the right person comes into my life, the one who’s not intimidated by the high bar, I’ll give him, and only him, the right to all that’s most precious in me.

Next time, I’ll talk about my views on courting. Yep, courting.

There’s a miracle concealed in every acorn. From something humble enough to nestle in a child’s palm, can grow a majestic oak towering above the landscape, producing hundreds of thousands of acorns over a lifetime. Even if only a fraction of those seeds produce trees, the potential harvest from just one acorn is boundless. But that seed will remain just a possibility, a maybe, a could be, until it’s put in the ground and allowed to fight for what it needs to become something glorious.

Placed in every one of us are dreams and talents, acorns of dormant splendor that if cultivated, can develop into prolific oaks. As kids sharing our dreams, our excitement about the future is like wind blowing through the forests in our imaginations. Our oaks will be the tallest and most beautiful; they’ll be famous. they’ll reach the stars and change the world. Then we grow up. We sow a seed and it dies, never germinating at all. We sow another, but the seedling doesn’t look anything like we thought and in discouragement we abandon it. Or, people we trust tell us our dreams are too big for such small seeds and we let their opinions become verdicts on our future. Until our hearts sicken and we stop trying, resigning ourselves to living with a pocketful of acorns.

Dreams and talents were never intended to be carried around. They’re too heavy. When we nurture them, they’re no longer a burden and the anticipation of what they can become creates excitement and produces life. But courage is the soil required to see them realized, especially as we grow older and the imaginations that once inspired us to greatness become our enemies, with fear of failure tempting us to protect ourselves from more disappointment. The only path guaranteed to fail one hundred percent of the time is surrendering to fear and never trying at all. Yes, we may plant something that doesn’t produce, or look the way we thought it would, but in order to yield a harvest, we have to be willing to put our seeds in the ground, all of them.

People who accomplish greatness are big dreamers, who understand the principle of sowing and reaping and are willing to devote time and resources in order to cultivate their dreams. An oak tree needs twenty years to mature and more than fifty gallons of water a day. That may seem prohibitive, but an established tree yields over two thousand acorns a year and can continue doing so for centuries. The payoff is worth the investment.

There’s no expiration date on acorns, just as there’s no age when we’re too old to see the seeds of our dreams and talents produce life. My mother left school at fourteen and by the time she was twenty-four was living in a room and kitchen in Scotland with her five children; yet, at fifty-seven, as an elected city official in Southern California, she proudly received the bachelor’s degree in English literature she’d struggled ten years to obtain. She’ll tell you she felt foolish sometimes, sitting in classrooms with twenty year olds who had a much quicker grasp of the subjects than she did, but she’d planted her acorn and wasn’t going to abandon it until she saw an oak tree standing in its place.

Maybe we won’t be prima ballerinas, or astronauts, but there are places we can express and develop our talents and see our dreams realized. It doesn’t matter if we’re nine or ninety-three, as long as we’re breathing, those acorns were destined for greater things than just wishful thinking. They were meant to reach for the sky as majestic oaks.