This Mother's Day, I, like many mothers across the country, will await a call from a son. The call will come with amazing clarity from 5,000 miles away. From a small village in the Atlas Mountains of Africa's northernmost country: Morocco.
My son is entering his 16th month of volunteer service with America's Peace Corps. I couldn't be prouder of him.
When he left on a bright, crisp March morning last year, my heart felt heavier than I thought I could bear. I still tear up when I think of my parting words, "This is your time, your turn. Go, fly, soar. And, always, please be a wise son." He is soaring, and his wisdom is increasing exponentially, especially as he tells the tales of cultural immersion in a Muslim village's community life.
I, too, have come a long way since the day we said goodbye – the same day I drove home, curled up with the hooded sweat shirt he'd left behind and bawled for hours like the proverbial baby. He is my baby, and a mother never stops worrying, praying and feeling the absence.
Today, I am blessed as I learn of his travels and accomplishments. And how blessed America is to be the author of such a program as the Peace Corps. Many of my generation will remember President John F. Kennedy's compelling message at his 1961 inauguration: "Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country."
President Kennedy appointed the father-in-law of our state's governor, Sargent Shriver, to launch the Peace Corps. Morocco was one of the first countries to welcome American volunteers. This welcome continues today.
My son, Barry, has learned a great deal since arriving in Casablanca, a modern and Europeanlike, cosmopolitan city. From there, he and 60 other American volunteers began intensive training, including instruction in Arabic. Before long, the volunteers were asked to choose between two pursuits: health care and environmental projects.
Barry is involved with the environment of the mountains, forests and pristine lakes several hours from the country's modern coastal cities. He is deep in the country where pastoral village life includes sheepherders and their flocks routinely passing through.
The tales Barry tells sound like a travelogue for rare excursions: camel riding in the desert, carrying wood to his home by burro, enjoying religious holidays with his host family, eating unusual foods – such as lamb's head, teaching English to eager schoolchildren who learn in a one-room structure with no fancy accessories.
Last month, he and fellow volunteers met with a group of Fulbright scholars from the states to share research. Last week, he journeyed back to Casablanca to help initiate a new group of Peace Corps volunteers who had just arrived from Philadelphia.
The time passes quickly for our whole family, and before long, Barry will return to the United States. His actual Peace Corps assignment is 27 months. In that time, he and hundreds of American volunteers work continuously to build bridges to other cultures throughout the world.
Recently, I happened to catch Aziz Mekouar, Morocco's ambassador to the United States, on Book TV. His words, simple enough, speak volumes: "Building bridges helps people cross bridges. The global need for cross-cultural understanding has never been more important than it is today."
Knowing my son is part of the bridge building makes me very happy this Mother's Day.
Allison Miller lives in Rocklin where she is a semi-retired secondary English teacher. Another of her favorite topics are her two granddaughters, who reside in San Diego.
