On an unseasonably warm September evening, Anaya (11), Maris (4) and I gathered to listen to 16-year-old Greta Thunberg’s historic speech to the United Nations. We could not help but be moved. Moved to anger. Moved to indignation. Moved to hope? I’m not sure. Greta’s words sucked us back into the reality of our global situation, a dire confluence of mass extinctions, melting poles, and catastrophic weather events. For a minute, people were talking about it, caring about it, and then we all went about our business as usual.
Oxford defines hope as a “feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.” Many of us have the “desire for a certain thing to happen.” All but the most extreme climate-change deniers can agree that we want to reverse climate change and put our Earth back on a path compatible with long-term human life. It’s the “expectation” that’s lacking. The problem feels so big and intractable, especially with the biggest governments in the world unable to reach even rudimentary agreements. The United States isn’t even at the table anymore. As a country, we’ve turned a blind eye to the sobering science that predicts global catastrophe within our children’s lifetime if we don’t act soon.
My children ask questions. “What’s going to happen, Mom?” “ What’s going to happen if we don’t reduce emissions, switch to clean energy, go vegan, eat local, wear recycled clothing, and buy an electric car?” “What is Greta so worried about?” How can I tell my 11-year-old that she might not get to relax with her children on a weekday evening, watching a speech and snacking on chips, because having children may not be an option for her. She could be too busy dealing with heat waves, hunger, and deadly typhoons to even fathom bringing a child into a dying world. My 4-year-old has childlike hope. “We’ll fix it, Mommy. Don’t worry.” But, will we?
