30 More Days of Grace

Mean Girls Kate was four the first time she asked me why girls are mean. We were in the car on the way home from her babysitter’s house.  We had just gone around the corner by the house that’s always for sale and never finished.  Like everyday, she was recounting the events of her day when she paused for a second before breaking the silence by asking me, “Mom, why are girls mean?” Crickets. More crickets. Defaulting to a complete parenting cliche, I responded with the “we’re all mean sometimes” terrible cop-out of an answer.  I’m sure our conversation continued, but I can’t remember what we even talked about because my mind was reeling with the fact that, at four years old, Kate had already observed girls being mean and had already started to question why it has to be this way.   I could and can relate. I’ve never been good with girls.   I didn’t have close girlfriends in elementary school. My interests were never “girly,” ...

I’ve done my time in the darkness.   Actually, I’ve done several stints in the darkness, and the thing that always gets me about the darkness is that I don’t actually realize I’m wandering around in it until the light begins to break through again.  I’ve been caving once, and, to be perfectly honest with you, I hated it. I’m not entirely sure what it is about crawling into the center of the earth, being cold, feeling constantly damp, and worrying about taking a wrong turn and getting lost forever in the bowels of the earth that actually appeals to people.  For some reason, though, there is this whole population of individuals who seem to think this is an enjoyable pastime. I found myself on an adventure with some of these people once.  They assured me caving would be exhilarating and enjoyable. They were wrong. They assured me I wouldn’t feel like I was going to get swallowed up by the bowels of the earth. They were wrong. They assured me I...