Note from the Founder: On Staying Steady When the World feels Unsteady

I hadn’t planned on explaining what is happening in the Middle East to my children. My instinct was to protect, to wait, to hope they wouldn’t notice anything was materially wrong. I had told them that a storm was coming, that we would be hearing on/off thunder and we had to keep the windows closed. I distracted them with a movie marathon, and that was enough to keep them excited enough to barely notice the sounds going on outside.

I told myself they were too young and that silence might feel safer. But as Sunday unfolded, and I realised through all my various Whatsapp groups that the vast majority of parents in their school classes were being open with their children about what was happening, they would inevitably hear fragments at school in playground conversations, in half-understood whispers, and I realised my silence could potentially be a lot more damaging and fill them with confusion and more anxiety. 

So I tried to explain it in the gentlest way I could over breakfast. I told them to imagine three players standing in a row. Player A and Player C are passing a ball between them. Player B is stuck in the middle. The ball keeps coming toward B, but B has a strong force field - technology that can zap the ball away before it hits. I wasn’t trying to simplify something complex beyond recognition, I was trying to give them context without intensity. Tension exists, yes - but so does protection, and there are systems and people in place whose job it is to keep us safe. An image a friend sent later in the day re-enforced this analogy, which I am sharing below in case anyone else finds this helpful.

What struck me most wasn’t what they asked, it was how closely they watched me. They register what we are carrying long before they understand the words themselves. And in that moment, I realised the most important thing I could give them was not a perfect explanation but a regulated presence.

I don’t know what the “right” approach is. Each day feels different right now. Some hours feel calm, others feel heavier with all the constant noise and differing in opinions. I am learning as a parent that steadiness is not pretending nothing is happening but holding the reality without amplifying it.

So for now, we are focusing on home feeling like home. We made chocolate chip pancakes two days in a row, we collected leaves from the garden and painted them at the kitchen table. We pulled out board games - Rapid Rumble, Junior Scrabble, Monopoly, Zingo, to break up the overload of movie marathons. Today, inspired by my lovely friend Dina, we are putting together simple Ramadan care packages for delivery drivers, because generosity shifts energy in a way very few things do.

None of this changes what is happening outside our walls, but it changes the atmosphere inside them. I don’t have a definitive framework to offer. I am not certain I am getting it right. What I am certain of though is that our children borrow our calm until they can build their own. And right now, that feels like the most important thing I can give them.

From one mother to another, if you are navigating this day by day, adjusting your tone, your words, your energy - you are not alone in that. We are all learning as we go. And for now, calm feels like enough.

Sending you all love wherever you are, we are in this together and I have the utmost faith in our incredible leadership to steer us forward,

Roshni