Packet of Wildflower Seeds

I had this one friend in high school. Although we didn't talk often about significant issues, I socialized with her frequently. Though we went to separate colleges, we invited each other to parties and communicated online regularly. This continued after college - up until a certain point. This girl met a boy. He was quiet in person, but online he was very vocal about his opinions. My friend soon adopted his views and started to share them as well. At first, they were tentative suggestions. Then they became loud proclamations. They included such beliefs as "if you do abc, then you are a bad Christian," and "if you do xyz, then you are a bad mother." She was the type of person to say that my depression was the result of too little exercise, saffron, and Jesus. After years of declining communication and an increasing number of these posts, I decided to unfriend her. "Couldn't you just unfollow her?" You may ask. Indeed, that is an option on social med...

The other day I was looking at pictures of puppies in shelters, and I came across a boxer. In addition to being incredibly cute, he reminded me of my optometry school roommate's boxer. His name was Oscar, and I loved him. I am less confident in my feelings about his owner. I just don't know what my life would have been like if I had never met her. During the brief time our paths intersected, AL impacted me in unpredictable ways. It all started in botany class. I sat in the front row but off to the side; I placed my purse beside me to discourage anyone from sitting near me. AL walked in and sat at the opposite side of the table, and one of the first things that she said to me was that she liked my purse. She continued to be friendly and chat with me. I hadn't taken any classes with her before, so her openness surprised me. She was blonde, thin, and pretty, a girl you knew was extremely popular in high school. I didn't expect someone like her to take any interest in a shy...

When President-Elect Joe Biden is sworn in next month, he will become just the second Catholic Commander-in-Chief to serve our nation. Of course, plenty of individuals argue that Mr. Biden is not "truly" Catholic because parts of his platform do not align with official Church teaching. This is reflective of a broader debate within Catholicism: under what conditions may a person use the name "Catholic?" Despite the fact that Catholic means "universal," many advocate for a strict interpretation of the label. You should only be able to call yourself a Catholic if you believe in all of the teachings and sincerely try to adhere to them in all facets of your life. These are the purists, and they believe the Church is weakened by not calling out the sinners within their pews.  In the other camp are the generalists, those who believe individuals have a right to determine their religious affiliation for themselves. Sure, they may wonder why you would call yourself ...

 My daughter loves to read. She will peruse anything she can get her hands on, including the Tennessee Blue Book  (true story). Sometimes, she encounters a theme she really likes and will devour any book about it that she can find. This year, she has enjoyed reading books by Rick Riordan, and she became obsessed with Greek mythology. She decided that she wanted to have a theme party based on the Percy Jackson & The Olympians  series. She made a Greek mythology trivia game using PowerPoint. She fashioned a costume to look like Artemis. She made some decorations. She was very excited. The pandemic limited our ability to host a party, so we decided that she would have the party with her extended family during their annual camping trip. We asked her aunt, who knows some Greek, to give a mini lesson for the kids. We asked an uncle to have his sons act out a famous battle. Because everyone was staying in different cabins, and the Percy Jackson  books involve cabins for...

  Little red lines, Run far and free. Be a river whisking me to heaven; Let me drown in your life-giving force. Little red lines, Connect my scattered dots. Trace lines along this battered vessel; Shadow its empty hollows. Little red lines, Mingle with the air. After all, you are fed by oxygen, Though it no longer sustains me. Little red lines, Make my vision rosy. Paint the external world a vibrant hue; Leave me a sight to be seen. Little red lines, Take my breath away. Pour my soul into the earth And return me to my peaceful home. Little red lines, Be my map on this journey. Guide me to my destination; Outline my path along the way. -November 22, 2007- Sometimes I wish I had acted in 2007 instead of simply writing. Then I wouldn't be here, in the middle of this mess. I wouldn't be struggling with the pain, the isolation, the fear, and the questions surrounding a global pandemic. I wouldn't be wondering why inconvenience is a more powerful motivator than compassion for som...

 I was very isolated as a new mother. My husband worked shift work. Our neighbors kept to themselves. I had few friends and family members in the area; the ones I did have lived at least forty minutes away. None of them had children of their own, so they couldn't share the difficulties of that experience with me. When I moved back to my hometown and began seeing a counselor again, one of the first suggestions she made was to find some "mom friends." She recommended joining a new moms group. As a painfully shy individual and someone who is not a fan of forced social situations, her recommendation sounded terrible. I ignored her. The years went by, and my counselor kept pressing. "Have you made any mom friends yet?" When my kids started school, I told her that I talked to other moms at drop-off and pick-up. I had some of their numbers and took the kids to playdates with their kids. "It doesn't sound like they are mom friends, though," my counselor re...

Okay, now that my title has grabbed your attention, let me clarify. I am NOT a racist, but I would be foolish to pretend that my background and upbringing had no impact on my worldview.  For most, the primary factor in their beliefs is their family of origin. People often make jokes about their "racist grandparents," and while I never heard my grandparents say anything overtly offensive, I do remember my grandmother referring to the "coloreds" with a bit of disdain in her voice. There was another time a family member took me shopping and I was allowed to pick out a Barbie doll. I initially selected a doll with dark skin. My relative hesitated, then asked me to pick a different doll. I was old enough to notice the sole difference between the doll I wanted and the other dolls was the skin tone. Luckily, I was also mature enough to realize that wasn't right, but imagine the scenario from the perspective of someone younger: I was subtly being taught that color divid...