Those who celebrate Christmas like to think of this time as especially joyful and peaceful. Which is natural, because this is the biggest and most celebrated holiday of the year.

However, during this Christmas season especially I’ve noticed so many acts of violence, many here in Lexington alone. A woman is mugged in the shopping center parking lot and the gifts she just bought are taken. Burglars break into a home and take many of the Christmas gifts they find there, along with other things such as laptops. A school for women who are working to get back on their feet is set on fire and cash is taken from the building.

Then there’s simply the spirit of Scrooge, pre-visions, in the case of a little three-year old boy with cerebral palsy who has a special playhouse in his yard to help him with his therapy. Other yards have similar playhouses, but the HOA decided that this particular playhouse should go. The case is still pending and the parents are fighting for their little boy. Sometimes the strain of the fight comes through their Facebook updates.

The season started with Black Friday and some acts of aggression, particularly that of the woman who pepper-sprayed other shoppers. And it seems to have gone downhill from there.

I haven’t mentioned the recent murders. Most murders here seem to be committed by family members. There are far too many of these.

So carolers can sing about peace on earth. But it’s going to take a great deal more work to get there, even during the season of peace and giving.

Oh, and with the exception of the pepper-spray woman, all the examples I mentioned are local. How peaceful is the place where you live?

Nearly every marriage ceremony contains these words. But how many are truly prepared to follow through on this promise?

When my husband married me, I was twenty-five, energetic, and perfectly healthy. We didn’t own a car until our third son came along–before that point we walked or biked everywhere we went. I delivered my first son naturally in thirty-hours, and took care of him and the household while studying for my doctorate. Later his little brother (his first little brother) came along and I continued my studies for another year before finally completing them. In those days I felt like I could do anything.

The decline started gradually sixteen years ago, around the time my youngest (number six) was born. By the time he was eleven, my health had begun to decline significantly, and it’s been that way since then.

My husband has aged, of course, but only in the usual ways–gray hair, a little less stamina. He’s sixty now and still doing very well. Meanwhile, he’s shackled to this wife whose health can change day-to-day, who doesn’t have the energy to do even the simple things she used to do.

I admit that for a short period of time I worried he might want to get away and enjoy his life. But he’s never expressed that–that was only my own self-doubt whispering. Not only has he stood by me, but he has taken care of my every need, big and small.

Before we were married he said he didn’t believe in divorce. I didn’t either. But the proof comes under pressure, when he’s forced to keep the promises he made thirty years ago in front of a judge in my mother’s living room. (We also had a separate Islamic ceremony.)

So many marriages fall apart. Sometimes I wonder why their love, their commitment wasn’t strong enough. And I’m very grateful to be so well cared for by the love of my life, even when I can’t give much back.

When I started writing this blog I intended to post something every day. And I did, for a while. Then I got sick and I found that my mind wouldn’t work well enough to put the words together.

I thought I knew what was wrong with me, so I worked to correct that. But I also had an upcoming appointment with my oncologist. A regular check-up. I didn’t expect her to find anything unusual.

Or maybe I did. For about three weeks before my check-up, every time I prayed and I was too weak to say anything else, I recited Surah Al-Ikhlas and Surah Al-Nas. And each time I recited those two surahs in my prayers, I visualized the surahs immersed in bags of donated blood ready to be transfused. The vision didn’t bother me. I just thought it was a bit strange.

On the day of my appointment I had my blood drawn and waited to talk with the doctor about the results. When she entered the room, she looked very concerned. My blood cell counts were all wrong, high where they should be low and low where they should be high. She said I would need some blood transfusions.

I’ve had blood transfusions once before, in July 2009. At the time, I resisted with everything I had against the procedure. I knew there were many possible complications and I was afraid to take the risk. As it turned out, by the time they started administering the transfusions I didn’t have much of a choice, I was that far gone.

Allah knows that I’m a very stubborn person, and very reluctant to try different medical procedures. So He sent those visions. I think my doctor may have been surprised when I agreed so readily. But I was prepared and I knew this was what I had to do.

I did insist on doing it out-patient though. That made the process more grueling in the short-term because we had to arrive at the hospital quite early and didn’t get home until midnight. But I’m glad I did it that way. I always prefer sleeping in my own bed.

I’ve told the story of the visions to my husband, my sons, my mother. Now I’m sharing it with my readers. I debated whether it would be too personal to share. But it is such a miraculous event. Allah knows me and He knows what I need. He prepared me. Subhan Allah.

Muslims are encouraged to perform small deeds consistently. These are much better than the grandiose dreams and schemes which may bring us the wrong kind of attention and swell our heads and hearts. Small, consistent good deeds keep us mindful and humble.

I try to do some things. I don’t know if writing this blog applies, but I do hope to be consistent. However, yesterday I failed. No particular reason. I forgot.

We can pick up litter, open doors for others, always offer kind words, or simply smile. These are all small deeds, not major in the overall ways of the world but very important. Sometimes small deeds are even more meaningful than the much larger ones.

The key is to be consistent. Don’t be generous and magnanimous one day and stingy the next. Be dependable.

So what are your small deeds for today?

World War I was the most terrible conflict of its time, and no one could remember anything worse. Alliances dragged peaceful nations into the fray, and chemical weapons such as mustard gas made their debut. The war lasted only a few years. but it changed so much.

The peace treaty, the Treaty of Versailles, was signed at the 11th hour of the 11th day of 11th month in 1918. There was great relief as the “war to end all wars” came to a close.

But the Treaty of Versailles was imperfect, and actually established conditions leading to World War II. Germany was brutally punished, especially financially, for their role in starting the war. German resentment over the war reparations demanded in the Treaty of Versailles helped lead to the rise of Hitler and the Nazi Party.

The Ottoman Empire, an ally of Germany, was carved up into smaller countries. Turkey, the center of the Ottoman Empire, became the secular state it still is today. Palestine, Jordan, Syria, Iraq, Lebanon–much of the Middle East–were carved into territories, not yet nations, and doled out to Britain and France.

Woodrow Wilson’s great idea, the one he pushed very hard for, was a League of Nations, an international body where nations could discuss their differences and avoid future wars. Other countries joined in, but the U.S. Senate refused to ratify the treaty with the League of Nations included. Henry Cabot Lodge led the opposition. Wilson traveled by train, trying to get voters to persuade their senators to accept his ideas. At some point on the trip, he suffered a stroke. It has been said that his wife, Edith Galt Wilson, made many executive decisions after her husband became incapacitated and was, in fact, the first woman president.

I was a history major in school, and I’m still a student of history, and the period immediately after World War I has always especially fascinated me. I think if we study that period, we could learn how to avoid future wars, even today. Certainly, World War II could have been averted.

Since 1954 this day has been known as Veteran’s Day. But before that, from 1918 to 1953, it was Armistice Day. And that’s how I like to think of it. The day when everyone hoped peace had a chance.

Earlier today I got into a short discussion with someone on Facebook about lack of empathy. I think it’s growing. There are many causes, and countless effects.

When I was young, back in the 50s and early 60s, I had messages such as the Golden Rule drummed into me from home, school, and society: Do unto others as you wish they do unto you. The prose is a little archaic but the message is clear–treat others the way you want to be treated. That’s not a hard concept to understand, or at least it didn’t used to be.

As I said, the entire society helped support this message during my childhood. I got it through the cartoons, the sitcoms, the Sunday comics, and the lessons at school as well as from my parents. There was no way to miss it, and a lesson taught that completely to children of young ages will stay with them for life.

Something changed, though, in the late 60s and especially the 70s. Everything became funny and all values came into question. The 70s was only the beginning though, the first erosion. I noticed a full breakdown of the society of my childhood when I returned to the U.S. from Thailand in 1992, after the first Gulf War. I wasn’t here during that war, but it seems to me that it hardened many hearts.

Now popular media promotes making fun of others and getting ahead at the expense of others. On “America’s Home Videos,” a family show, the audience laughs at one mishap after another. So many video games have become vehicles for teaching violence as participants gun down or run down hapless victims and then move on, laughing as they leave. At any given time, popular movies glorify violence, one dead body after another. And when too many Americans are asked about how to handle the problems with Iran, North Korea, or any other country, the answer is simple: Nuke ‘em.

I taught my children the Golden Rule, which is also an important belief for all Muslims. I reminded them to perform acts of kindness and questioned when they laughed at someone’s fall. I did my best to teach them empathy and I think, I hope, I succeeded. But I would like to remind all parents, especially those who still have young children, that this requires a conscious effort on your part. Society will no longer teach your child empathy. It is all up to you.

Most of the time I am just an observer to life, not an active participant. With the arrival of cold weather and the flu season my isolation is more certain.

I remember participating in life fully. In college, especially, I rarely found an opportunity I didn’t like, and sometimes I found myself overburdened. But it was great.

When my children were young, and as I kept having more, there were days when I wondered if I would make it. They kept me busy all the time.

Teens brought a different challenge. When my first hit his teens, I had a newborn baby, so I was especially stretched. I taught each one of my sons at least two important things: one, do not talk back to your mother; and two, drive as if everyone else on the road is an idiot. My youngest is trying to get his permit now so I still have a small window of opportunity for that.

I knew they would grow up and move away, and I knew everything would change when my oldest left. He first left home ten years ago, just a few days before 9/11. He’s been back, but we sent him to study in France and how are you going to keep them down on the farm. . .

I also taught for many years, stretching my energy and my imagination to provide stimulating lessons for my students while keeping up with everything else in my life. What a challenge.

In 2002 I quit teaching in order to write. Six novels later, I’m still writing.

But I don’t get out in the world much these days, except through my laptop.

Unfortunately, peace is never on the ballot. But some candidates are more peaceful, or appear to be more peaceful, than others.

During the 1964 presidential campaign, LBJ tried to drive home the point that a vote for Goldwater would be a vote for nuclear war through his infamous “daisy ad.”  LBJ won, and while he did promote a strong domestic program of civil rights, voting rights, and help for the needy, he’s also the president who dragged us into the Vietnam War.

When I voted for Obama in 2008, I saw him as a peace worker, in sharp contrast to the war mongering rhetoric of John McCain. Unfortunately, Obama has not gotten us out of war–though he says the troops are coming home from Iraq–and has actually started more conflicts.

In today’s election, I meant to vote especially for Steve Beshear and Jack Conway for Kentucky governor and attorney general respectively. Both are incumbents and I think both have worked hard to bring a little peace to Kentucky, especially during these hard economic times. The last time I checked, both had healthy leads.

I didn’t vote because a sudden weakness left me bedroom-bound. But we have yard signs for both Beshear and Conway, and I’m gratified to see their leads.

Peace will never be on the ballot, but some candidates are more “peaceful,” more sincere in working for the people. Sometimes we are fooled. But other times, especially in our local elections, we really do have good strong candidates who will work to get the job done.

Every time we vote, we should look to vote for the most peaceful alternative. Maybe that will help make our entire country more peaceful.

I haven’t written very much about my writing lately, but I’ve actually been doing quite a bit of it. On October 30 I completed the rough draft of my work-in-progress (tentatively titled Mary). On November 1, a little after midnight, I started the NaNoWriMo challenge.

So far I’ve been able to keep apace, not going ahead or falling behind in terms of word count. Actually, keeping track of the word count is one thing that distracts me in a major way during this exercise, and I try to ignore it. But with Windows 10, the word count is right at the bottom of the screen. Not much I can do about that.

The working title for my NaNoWriMo novel is Green Springs. It’s about Muslims living together in a small community, with the focus on one family, and both the good and the bad that goes on in such communities. At first I was reluctant to write any kind of expose, even one which, so far, is fairly gentle. But there are issues that need to be addressed.  And this novel is also a cathartic process for my last thirty years of experiences.

There are still three contests I hope to enter. But the deadlines for two are tomorrow and I am still clueless. The third isn’t due until the end of the month so I may still have a chance.

What’s your writing progress?

Today is a holiday. I saw or spoke with four of my six sons. The other two are practically out in the wilderness and one, especially, has probably been very busy celebrating with his own wife and children.

But I heard from them last week. And I’m sure, insha Allah, I’ll hear from them again soon. Especially from my daughter-in-law, who is the best of the three (among her and my two sons) at staying in touch.

This morning my family went to the Eid prayer and I stayed home because the fragrances are far too strong for me. After the prayer, they took the prayer rugs they had gathered from the Islamic school back to the school. Then they went out to eat. (It’s not quite as cruel as it sounds, eating without me, because I haven’t been able to eat restaurant food for years now.) Then, for some reason, they went back to the school. Then they ran some errands. Then they came home. And I still couldn’t talk to any of them until each had removed his “smelly” clothes and taken a shower.

When the kids were little, I worked very hard to make our holidays special, planning weeks or even months in advance. But I’m not up to being in charge these days so I guess no one is.

Still, I always know they’ll come home. And I do know they love me. And that’s something.