Packet of Wildflower Seeds

After this crazy snowstorm, people have been saying "be careful what you wish for" as they tease everyone who hoped for a white Christmas. We got a white Christmas - and then some. Even though wishes and prayers are very different things, they share some characteristics. While we should also say prayers of gratitude and spend time listening for God's response, a significant amount of prayer is dedicated to asking God for things. In a way, we are telling God all of our wishes. Does God grant wishes? More broadly, does He answer prayers? If He does answer prayers, when does He do so, and in what manner? While our faith may provide clues to the answers, we obviously cannot know them with complete certainty. I have enjoyed many deep conversations with friends as we worked through our ideas together. Most of my thoughts on the matter are made up of questions. If God does, indeed, address prayers directly and intervene in our daily affairs, does that mean tragedies occur ...

When looking for the poem in my previous post, I sifted through many other works written in high school. In some, the intention was very clear. In others, I had to consider the date and context to tease out the meaning. Such was the case for the following poem. Before I share the work, I'd like to provide some background. I was fairly lucky when it came to my high school class. It wasn't the stereotypical situation in which popular girls picked on everyone else. Yes, there were "cool girls," and if you weren't friends with them, you wouldn't be invited to their parties. If you sat next to them in class, however, they were usually rather friendly. Also, to be fair, they weren't invited to the parties my friends threw, either. I'd say our class was made up more of "friend groups" than "cliques." There were some exceptions, but as a whole, everyone was pretty nice. And yet, I was still bullied in high school. I'm sure this is ...

I want to write at least one post - probably more - detailing what the experience of anxiety is like for me. I want to be thorough, though, and I haven't had the time to sit down and really reflect on my words. In the meantime, this poem from 2002 gives some insight into the feelings and conflicts with which I struggle. Anxiety can feel like I'm running a race, even when I am not going anywhere. It can feel like I'm fleeing something, but I've fallen, so I'm afraid that something will catch me. Anxiety can feel like I'm weighted with chains. It feels heavy, like it's harder to move with such a burden. Sometimes, it's hard enough just to breathe. Anxiety can ruin my sleep. Sometimes I have nightmares so vivid, the next day is a challenge to face. Sometimes, it's so overwhelming, nothing seems worthwhile, and I just want to surrender. “Chronology of a Failure” Running, breathing, spinning, falling It catches up to me It’s breathing f...

Several months ago, one of my husband's coworkers asked him if we have a gun in the house. When my husband answered in the negative, the coworker responded with something along the lines of, "do you have a crazy liberal wife who won't let you? You need to get one anyway to protect your family." My husband replied that the decision was his and that he was satisfied with his choice. J's response was mostly true, but it omitted a lot of information. If I had been present for the conversation, I would have liked to add several things. First of all, the coworker's assessment of me as a "crazy liberal" is correct in neither aspect. I don't identify with a political party. I am also not crazy - though I do suffer from mental illness, and I suppose some individuals would lump all of those conditions together and collectively call them "insanity." It is precisely because of this fact, though, that J's decision not to own a gun IS a dec...

It's college application season. I have a student in one of my classes who is dead-set on attending Duke University. She recently proclaimed that she couldn't focus on anything right now other than gaining admission to her top college choice. Another group of students discussed an article they had read for a different class. Apparently the article claimed that college choice doesn't really matter. The students seemed dismissive of that notion. Many of my seniors are taking the SAT one more time this fall in an effort to make themselves more attractive to prospective colleges. I hear them joke with one another that they will cry if their scores do not improve, but I can sense the underlying anxiety in all of these interactions. I wish I could tell them to relax. I wish I could tell them that the article was (mostly) right. I wish I could tell them that this adolescent rite-of-passage should be an opportunity for reflection and self-discovery rather than stress and turm...

Halloween is approximately one and a half weeks away. How did that happen? I put up decorations. We have gone to Zoo Boo. Somehow, it still doesn't feel like Halloween season. The uncharacteristically warm weather might contribute to that fact. I imagine that I haven't paused long enough to soak up autumn, either. When I think about experiencing holidays, I often think about what made them special during my childhood. To that extent, I have determined that certain holidays are associated with certain rooms in my parents' house. Thanksgiving, not surprisingly, makes me think of the dining room. That is pretty much the only day of the year we use the room for its intended purpose. Christmas makes me think of the living room. Many evenings I would sit on the couch and listen to Christmas music while all the lights were off except the ones on the tree. My mom does a great job decorating the tree, and I felt very calm and present in those moments. What about Halloween? Most ...

Today was testing day for students at my school, which meant the juniors took the PSAT. Lately, I've been thinking a lot about the day I took the PSAT.  I was sitting in a classroom, probably on the third floor, with my pencils and calculator ready, listening to the morning announcements. At the end, one of the guidance counselors got on the system and informed us that she needed to make a special announcement. She said the administrators carefully considered whether the information should be given to us immediately preceding such an important test, but they ultimately felt that we had the right to know, especially since rumors were probably already circulating.  What news did we hear that autumn morning? A student had committed suicide. She was in the grade below mine and, if I recall correctly, had been in my math class. I didn't really know her, but I remember the shock and sadness that fell over the school in the aftermath of this heartbreaking revelation. We held a...

I have five or six topics saved that I mean to discuss eventually. Some of them would work really well right now: an exploration of prayer or perhaps a reflection on last year's trip to Scotland, for example. While I look forward to writing and sharing those posts, I decided to go a little darker tonight. Currently, I am in a pretty stable position when it comes to my anxiety and depression. When I am stressed, lonely, or sad, though, the negative voices get louder. They become more convincing. They always tell me that I am not enough. I am not enough for my family. I don't know how to clean, organize, prepare meals, and still find quality time with them. I don't think I read enough to my kids. No matter what I accomplish in the morning, it comes at the expense of something else. I may have done a load of laundry and hung it outside, put away yesterday's load, and washed the dishes, but my son was on his tablet that morning. Maybe another day I took him to play spor...

I have had an outline of this topic for several weeks now. Even though I should probably grade some essays instead, today seems like a good day to tackle this post. I don't tend to post much about politics. There are several reasons for this. First of all, I don't add strangers to my social media. That means I know all of my "friends." I respect them and realize that they have unique life experiences that contribute to their beliefs. I am not trying to negate their family histories and backgrounds. Secondly, social media tends to exaggerate our differences. I suspect that in most cases, if I spoke with a person individually, we would agree more than we disagree. We have similar values, but we might promote those values in different ways. If I can't come across sincerely and respectfully through a certain medium, I don't want to use that platform to share my beliefs. Finally, I want people to like me. If I don't say anything controversial, no one can h...

I have been to New York City precisely once in my life. I was only there one day, so some people might claim I haven't REALLY been to NYC. Their arguments probably have some merit, but I loved that day spent in the city. My sister suggested the trip, and we explored New York together. At the time, she was in graduate school in Delaware. I was living just outside of Philadelphia so that I could attend optometry school. She drove up to collect me at my apartment before we headed to a train stop in New Jersey. From there, we took the train into the city. I believe my sister had previously been to New York, but we mostly navigated our journey together. We saw Times Square up close and the Statue of Liberty from afar. We peeked through the fence to see the progress at the World Trade Center site. We took a picture of Alexander Hamilton's grave (because I thought he was cool before the musical said he was cool). I tried margherita pizza for the first time, and it is now my favori...

When I first started dating my husband, I didn't know that his father had passed away when J was only eleven. My aunt lived next door to J's economics teacher at the time. The teacher made some comment to my aunt about J not having a father, and my aunt asked me about it. I didn't know the answer. It was early in our relationship, so I was too shy to ask J about his family. Instead, I asked one of his friends if J's father was alive. The friend thought he was. Therefore, I assumed the economics teacher was mistaken. A few weeks later, the paper wrote a story about J. He told me the story might mention that his father was deceased. He didn't offer me any more details, and I didn't ask him to elaborate. I was surprised, however, that his friend hadn't known that J's father was no longer alive. Why didn't J talk about it? I don't remember the exact timeline, but I believe several months passed before J finally told me how his father had died. Hi...

"I better hurry," Samantha told the thick air. Something was causing her to grow a bit nervous. She began to search quickly through drawers, desks, cupboards - all of which were bare. After a few hours, she began to get discouraged. The temperature seemed to be racing upward. Samantha grew uncomfortable even though she was used to brutal southern summers, even in the particularly difficult swampy regions. Samantha sat down in order to rest, but her breathing did not become any less labored. At that moment, lights flickered in the house. Samantha hadn't remembered turning any on. Looking up, she noticed that the electricity and other modern conveniences seemed rather out of place in a house that was definitely built before the 19th century. She began to wonder if the contemporary appliances were added merely for effect, and to test her theory, she approached the faucet to see if the water would actually run. She turned the faucet on, and water slowly began to drip into t...

Samantha sat reclining in her old desk chair, eyes closed, contemplating excuses she could give to get out of her next assignment. Nothing came to mind. With a sigh, she opened her eyes and allowed her glance to fall upon the dusty portrait that lay on her otherwise pristine desk. Two people sat placidly on the canvas, a man and a woman. No one knew who they were. The picture was discovered during the previous week in the antique museum down in New Orleans. The only clue to the identity of the couple was an address scrawled in pencil on the back. Some people from the museum had called the historical society in Atlanta because they had heard about its penchant for solving mysteries pertaining to antiques. Samantha worked for the society in Atlanta, but at that time, she wished she didn't. After a few seconds of hesitation, Samantha flipped the portrait over and read the address aloud to herself. Only one part captured her attention, and that was the city: New Orleans. It was Saman...

It seems like I blinked and summer was more than half-over. The season never feels quite the same as it did when I was a kid, when it was a respite from school and a time my family could travel together. We had many exciting vacations over the years, but I'm going to focus on my memories of one place in particular: Florida. My grandmother has a condo in Orlando, and we visited relatively frequently when I was young. As a result, I have a stronger emotional reaction to my memories of that place. My grandma's condo isn't very large, but it is comfortable, and I absolutely adored it. She has a large wicker chair that can rock and spin; my siblings and I loved it so much, we would fight over who got to sit in it. We ate our breakfast, which was usually Cheerios, out of coral pink plastic bowls at a glass table just off the kitchen area. We also played cards at that table, so we would joke about not peeking through the glass. I shared the guest bedroom with my sister. I have...

I have a brother-in-law who once posted an article about a woman revived after a lightning strike. Her recovery was considered a miracle since she was thought to be dead. After she was revived, she claimed that she had traveled through hell and could discern the sins that had led individuals there. She said the deepest level, full of the worst suffering and completely isolated from God, was reserved for those who had committed suicide. I'm sure my relative shared the story to encourage people to think more seriously about the fate of their souls and the consequences of their actions. While I wondered about the theological validity of the woman's claims (and even whether or not her "experience" was actually a side effect of the lightning strike), I kept thinking that my brother-in-law was willing to promote a story that proclaimed suicidal individuals are the worst type of people. Stigma, judgment, fear - many things prevent individuals with mental illness from rec...

The is no shortage of parenting advice in this world, especially online. Even friends share articles and tidbits about their beliefs; the information ranges in nature from helpful to proselytizing. Most of the time I can navigate the posts with relative ease, scanning the ones that interest me and ignoring the ones I don't expect to be useful. I have my anxieties, of course, but I recognize that every situation is unique, so there is no one "perfect" approach to parenting. It is perhaps a little strange, then, that a topic I find to be among the most difficult is one that my friends don't discuss that often. Every time someone shares a birth story, though, it comes up, and I have to struggle with my feelings anew. An acquaintance recently gave birth in a birthing center. Having a natural birth, she was able to go home later the same day and begin bonding with her baby at home. My births were not traumatic by any means, but I did not give birth naturally. Sometimes...

Your voice breaks over my soul like a wave upon the beach I think you just pulled me back from nonexistence I'm hypnotized just staring into your eyes As my emotions quickly close the distance I reach out to touch your arm, and it's real Your hand slips to reach slowly around my waist Fear makes me stay though I want to break away Your spell is much too strong for my taste I can't believe how close we are The heat tingles up my spine I feel like I'm dying even though I'm only crying Because I know you're not quite mine But you take me away from this dry desert And I can't make the world stop spinning I find my place in your sweet embrace And finally get the feeling of winning But as I step back to look at your face You transform into a thin mist The daylight grows old as I grow cold And a bruise stains where I was kissed I'm torn by the abrupt ending But from the start, it was only a fairy tale scheme Maybe I'll learn from ...

My anniversary is approaching. In honor of that, I wanted to write a little about my husband. When I first told him that I was going to start a blog, he said he didn't mind if I sometimes talked about him. I suppose this will be a test of his sincerity! J, as I will call him in the public sphere, went to the Air Force Academy. It was his goal to attend USAFA starting sophomore year of high school. He liked planes, and while he found the design of military jets to be particularly interesting, he thought the prospect of flying them was even more alluring. With the aim of becoming a pilot, J worked to gain his appointment to the academy. He was well into this process when I entered the picture, and our relationship was still new when he learned of his acceptance. I was unsure what distance and a military commitment would mean for our future, but I was very supportive of J. He seemed pretty enthusiastic. A brief emotional withdrawal during my graduation party was the only hint of h...

Things can get a little lonely when you are a parent of young children, especially if you stay home with them. You might not have much interaction with other adults on a daily basis, and your kids are probably not a source of deep conversation. It was this reality I faced when my birthday approached this past spring. I generally do not have high expectations for my birthdays, but I looked forward to getting a few more texts than usual and maybe having a small party with close family members. I hoped the sense of isolation would subside for a bit. That didn't happen. An unexpected number of individuals forgot my birthday. Only one friend checked in with me on the day itself. My mom bought cupcakes, but we didn't eat them together as a family. Due to some incorrect assumptions and miscommunication, there was no party; no one sang to me. I felt a greater sense of loneliness than usual. I'm not the kind of person who needs a lot of gifts, and I dislike being the center of...

My thoughts might look something like this if I paused to record them: I have a moment when the kids don't need my immediate attention and nothing is scheduled. What should I do? I should probably clean. I think the bedrooms need to be vacuumed. Or I could wipe down the baseboards and windowsills. I read that you should wet wipe those once per week. I definitely have not done that. If the kids develop lead poisoning, it will probably be my fault for not wiping the sills often enough. Now that I'm thinking of the house, we have so many projects. Wiring, the bedrooms, stripping and repainting the trim, finishing the bathroom, maybe tearing down the porch. Should we build a deck there? A patio? What would we use the most? How can we make the backyard more user-friendly for the kids? Hmm, maybe I should do something with the kids. Pinterest craft? Music time? Cultural enrichment? I could read them a book about math or science. I wonder if I read enough to N. I feel like I hav...

Last fall, I received an unexpected e-mail from a relative. He asked if I had ever considered writing short stories because he enjoyed reading my social media commentary on everyday life. Truthfully, I had considered writing as a profession. In high school, we were asked to write a journal about potential career choices. I explained that I didn't know what field I wanted to pursue because I was interested in so many different things. I enjoyed writing, but I also really liked science. Other topics caught my interest, as well, including history, architecture, and design. I was afraid if I limited myself to one area, I might get bored. My teacher wrote back that perhaps  I should consider writing for a publication such as National Geographic ; I would have the opportunity to learn and write about a variety of topics, minimizing the threat of boredom. At first, this sounded like a great opportunity to me. I retained it as a possibility for awhile. I remember telling my sister abou...

Before getting together with my husband, I only had one "official" relationship - which didn't last long - and a handful of complicated friendships. I am sure at the time I worried if I would be alone forever, but in hindsight, I see the benefits of starting my first serious relationship when I was more mature. Since I was single throughout most of high school, I had a lot of time to focus on myself and my friendships. This meant that I had a pretty good idea of who I was and what I wanted out of life. If I stumbled, I had close friends who could set me straight. Yes, I wanted to have a boyfriend, but I wasn't so desperate for a relationship that I would pretend to be someone else. I saw plenty of cases where this was not true. In fact, one of my best friends in high school suffered through a terrible relationship. When she met her next boyfriend, she was so happy he treated her well that she spent her free time only with him. Once we graduated, my friend group ne...

In case you didn't know, teaching is an incredibly difficult profession. It is especially hard the first few years as you create new lesson plans, work on classroom management skills, and navigate interactions with colleagues, superiors, and parents. I fully support utilizing whatever resources are available to you in order to make the beginning of your career easier. When I knew I would be taking time off after starting a family, I tried to find ways I could help my replacement start off as strongly as possible. If I remember correctly, he had some informal instruction experience but little formal teaching experience. I copied everything I had to leave for him: notes (whether typed or handwritten), labs, and tests. I wrote post-it notes to indicate things I would have changed, and I passed along sites I felt were particularly good sources of information. I also e-mailed him all of my power point presentations. My hope was that if he didn't have to spend tremendous amounts of...

I wanted to give my blog the simpler name "Wildflower Seeds," but it was already taken. Instead, it became "Packet of Wildflower Seeds;" the physical packet referenced in my title sits on a bulletin board in my house. Why would I keep a packet of seeds instead of planting them? The following information isn't news to many of my friends and family members. For even more individuals, the revelation might not be surprising. I'm not sure how everyone else will react. I suffer from anxiety. And depression. I always seem to mention anxiety first, if I even acknowledge the depression at all, because it feels more socially acceptable. Anxiety might be associated with a driven personality, while depression makes you unhinged. The truth is, I experience both, and they are both terrible at times. I probably needed to seek help earlier, but I first tried counseling in college, where I could utilize the free resources the school offered. I didn't particularly c...

A number of animal advocates insist that all zoos should cease operation and that the animals in their care should be released into the wild, where they belong. I would agree...if humans were perfect. The fossil record reveals that the composition of the biosphere is not static (we no longer have Triceratops , after all), but human activity is certainly leading to an expedited disappearance of many modern species. Hunting, habitat destruction, and pollution have driven many species to the brink of extinction. We need institutions to help stop and then correct the damage we have already done. Zoos are instrumental in countering these issues in a number of ways. The first may be the most obvious: zoos are educational. People are more likely to care about animals when they see them in person; they can feel like they have developed a relationship with their favorites and might want to help if they learn the species is in trouble. Through exhibits, classes, and presentations, zoos are...

I probably seem a little late in addressing this topic, but I was reminded of it this past weekend at a meeting for zoo volunteers. We watched a video of the Detroit Zoo director discussing the role of zoos in wildlife care and conservation; he called out shows in which humans stand on killer whales as not fulfilling the proper goals. Before it closed, there was a SeaWorld not very far from where I lived. My family went a few times, and my Girl Scout troop even got to sleep there overnight. We stayed in the Shark Encounter exhibit, and it was exciting to wake up with sharks swimming overhead. It's not hard to see why, as a child, I loved SeaWorld. The shows were entertaining, and I found the animals very interesting. I saw species I couldn't see in any other zoo. In fact, I loved the animals so much that I began to consider a career in marine biology. I even contemplate becoming a trainer, but I realized I would probably never pass the swim tests in cold, salty water. To so...

In anticipation of upcoming graduations, I started writing a post about one aspect of my own college experience. I needed to take a break while writing it, and after some time had passed, I realized that my initial story came across poorly. I want these posts to be introspective, but I don't want them to be self-indulgent. I hope you might nod your head in understanding while reading them; I don't want you to roll your eyes. Thus, I deleted my first attempt and started over. For those of you who do not know my academic history, here is the short version of the story: I went to optometry school after only three years of college. It was a relatively last-minute decision. Because of AP credits and summer classes, I still earned a degree, but I didn't participate in a graduation ceremony. I left optometry school during the first semester when I finally let myself admit that I wasn't interested in that career. I missed out on some opportunities by not doing that fourth y...

My husband is 100% Polish. One grandparent and all of his great-grandparents were born in Poland. Even a relative who may have been born in an area that was once part of Russia listed "Polish" as his native language. Polish traditions are still pretty strong in his family, and I have to admit, I'm a little jealous of their cultural heritage. What is my own ethnic background? In short, I don't know exactly. When I was younger, my parents always told me I was Irish and German. They were a little vague on the percentages of each and when my ancestors came to the United States. Additionally, we don't have any explicit traditions linking us to those particular cultures. I sometimes joked that I was a "mutt" waiting to be adopted by a more specific tradition. I have recently begun to research more of my family history. I have verified that at least a few relatives came from Germany, probably in the 1800s. Another line seems to go back to Wales; that family...

Why can't glass show me more than an image - a face? Does my soul merely get mixed up and lost somewhere in space? I don't trust the reflection, because it isn't real. What's shown isn't me because it doesn't show how I feel. The tear you see slowly rolling down my reddened cheek Equals a thousand pains inside that I dare not speak. My mind is a mess that I wish I could know But my thoughts are figments that the glass won't show; It doesn't display the conflict raging on the inside. It's just a bunch of proportions and pictures that are deceivingly applied. The mirror doesn't help me to know my inner being; The person I really am is not the person I am seeing. Staring at the silver doesn't help the pain to pass, So the person dwelling in my head shatters the looking glass.

My kids are really into superheroes lately. "Obsessed" might not even be a strong enough word to describe their devotion. Naturally, they have asked which character is my favorite. That's actually a fairly complicated question for me. I watched some of the superhero shows with my brothers when we were growing up. I saw Gargoyles , X-Men,  and Spider-Man. My favorite, however, was always Batman . I'm not sure why I gravitated toward that particular show, but I think it is pretty well executed overall. When I watched it again on a streaming service last year, I was still able to enjoy it as an adult. My favorite character from Batman: The Animated Series  was Poison Ivy. I wish I could say that I admired her devotion to plants or that I appreciated a female with a strong personality. In reality, I probably just thought she was the prettiest character. Furthermore, as kids we tend to seek out people similar to ourselves. I don't remember seeing episodes with ...

The science department chairperson at Bishop O'Connell, whom I will call "DC," was kind, talented, and intelligent. Before becoming a teacher, she worked in the pharmaceutical industry. At O'Connell she taught Honors Biology and, after I left, AP Biology. She was good at inspiring her students. I was therefore not surprised when DC told me one day that a student wanted to follow in her footsteps and become an educator because DC was such an outstanding role model. I was a little shocked, however, when DC told me that she encouraged the student to pursue a different career, at least at first. She could always try teaching later. I was initially sad to hear this because it seemed like DC was missing the opportunity to mentor a bright student and to help that student become a great educator, too. As I reflected on the story, I realized her response wasn't that surprising, after all. Our society doesn't encourage high performers to pursue careers in education. I...