January 2020 feels like a decade ago. I rang in the new year in the minefields of Vietnam, where my organization Roots of Peace was leading a demining expedition, away from my children and grandchildren back in the Bay Area. I spoke, instead, to the families of victims afflicted by landmines lingering from the Vietnam War, forty five years after its official end. 

Since that trip, Covid-19– a threat that is, like a landmine, silent and invisible until the moment it becomes inescapable– has changed the world. Amid the societal and personal challenges it has presented, it has also reminded me of the bravery of mothers across the world. 

As a mother of four children, this unspeakable pandemic has given me a renewed sense of appreciation for the singular power of motherhood in a time of crisis. 

Here in the Bay Area we have, like the rest of the country and the world, lost mothers to this pandemic. Mothers have lost children. A great many mothers have dealt with the difficulty of balancing crippling fear and anxiety with the challenges of running a household–not to mention added diligence required to support their children’s distance learning and activities around the house. 

Mothers deal with unexpected problems creatively and compassionately. 

Mothers endure– often silently. 

Though I am inspired by the strength of mothers I see in my community and across our country, I am no stranger to the lengths mothers will go to protect their families. In my work with Roots of Peace, I have spoken to mothers raising their families under constant threat of their children being killed or maimed by landmines. An estimated 60 million landmines remain in the soil of over 60 countries, and mothers in affected communities around the world must remain perpetually vigilant– in some particularly afflicted communities enforcing a ‘shelter-in-place’ on a permanent basis– to protect their children from losing lift and limb just by kicking a soccer ball out of bounds, picking fresh flowers, or chasing a butterfly across the sky. 

On separate occasions, I have taken each of my four children on a Roots of Peace expedition to a minefield. The influence of these visits has been clear in the direction of their lives, and as a mother it was important that they became acquainted with the particular pain and fear associated with life under the looming threat of landmines. My oldest son, Dr. Brooks Kuhn, is now a Pulmonology Critical Care physician at U.C. Davis and intubating patients on ventilators as they suffer from COVID-19. Tucker is in Guatemala helping farmers grow specialty coffee, so that we build bridges, not walls across borders. My daughter Kyleigh was inspired to raise 50 million American ‘pennies for peace’ to build schools for girls in Afghanistan. Christian, my youngest, has visited minefields on three continents and is now working in the spice business to export sustainable goods from former war-torn lands.

It could be argued that there is no time of ease for a mother. It is a difficult job. But as Covid-19 continues to expand in this country and others, such as Afghanistan, we must look to mothers as inspirational examples of rising to the challenge of a crisis. These dire circumstances have tested mothers and families to make the best life for their families while dealing with constant personal fear and anxiety. The stress and pain and fatigue involved are immeasurable. But we are getting it done. The world is seeing what any mother can already tell you: that a mother’s love is one of the strongest forces on earth. 

We must recognize the strength of mothers across the world– and aspire to replicate it collectively as we tackle Covid-19 and work to create a sustainable, peaceful future.