I never thought I’d be the mother of a traumatized cat. Charlie the stray is still sleeping on my porch. She chases off the other strays, not to mention the groundhogs, so the yard is nicer than it was before she came. She hides from the children who are her rightful owners, and comes out when they’re gone. She arches her back and hisses to protect me when a stray dog happens by. Every morning, as Adrienne leaves for school,... Read more
As the sun was getting low, I went out to inspect the garden. Charlie the cat sauntered out of her cat house on the porch, careful not to look too excited to see me. Adrienne or I usually bring out a treat at nightfall. And then she bolted back, because the whole neighborhood rocked with the sound of wheels. Jimmy’s boy whizzed by in one of those plastic cars you propel with your feet like the Flintstones. The Artful Dodger... Read more
I dreamed I was at the Papal Conclave. In the dream, it made sense that I was in the Vatican for the Papal Conclave. I wasn’t the only lay person there. There were tourists of every race and nationality at the conclave, dressed rather casually, in among the clerics. Some of the tourists were on the floor in bedrolls and mattresses. People were talking and arguing. I was showing Adrienne Michelangelo’s famous ceiling. And then the gunshots began. I... Read more
If not for the worry, I would be happy. On Monday I went to pray and hike and worry on that glorious trail to the waterfall, the place where I’ve gone to pray in despair and in not knowing and in breaking the ice with Jesus. The trail was bombarded in several places with fallen trees from the storm last week, and the crick was still unusually high. The first part of my pilgrimage was more like a parkour... Read more
I guess I need to say something about the tacky AI image of Donald Trump as the Pope. In case you’ve been living under a rock the past few days, get back under the rock and save yourself the trouble, because this is extremely silly. Donald Trump has been joking that he’d make a good new Pope, now that Pope Francis is deceased. I wouldn’t begrudge him one or two tasteless jokes in that vein; everyone’s making them just... Read more
I went for a hike on a new trail. I’d been to Fernwood State Forest plenty of times, to stand on the overlook and watch the stars or the clouds. This was the first time I tried the trail. It was supposed to be a three-mile loop, but “three miles” can mean different things in the Appalachian foothills. The trail I hiked last week at the Wildflower Reserve was three miles, and took an hour. The Lakeside Trail at... Read more
The sirens began when we were in the checkout. Steubenville doesn’t have tornado sirens at the fire station, as was normal for me growing up in Columbus. The only way to tell if there’s a severe weather warning is to have the radio on, or to be in a public place when all the phones begin bleating at once. Adrienne and I were doing the payday shopping while Michael was at his shift at the restaurant. I was just swiping... Read more
I want to talk about food pantries again: what they are, how the current political regime is hurting them, and what you can do. A while ago, I wrote an article trying to explain what food pantries are, what it’s like to go to one, and the kind of people who use it. Let’s go over the basics. Essentially, a food pantry tries to fill the gaps that are left by the social safety net, because the income limit... Read more
I woke up anxious. I have been at peace since the Easter liturgy, but it’s not surprising that the anxiety trickled back. Healing is not linear. For several days I was certain that God didn’t hate me and was showing me the path of life. That was a beautiful Easter gift. But this morning, the anxiety rushed back in. I was afraid of the vengeful god of the Charismatic renewal. I felt as if Jesus was angry that the PTSD... Read more
It was the day of the Great LaBelle Easter Egg Hunt. A friend sent me some money to do a good deed for the neighborhood children, so I took it to Aldi and the Dollar Tree for treats. I told the Artful Dodgers and Jimmy’s boy to come to my house at two o’clock for a backyard egg hunt, and then at the last minute I invited the two littlest of the Baker Street Irregulars as well. I’d planned on... Read more
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