We, the Prodigals: What it Means to Be Lost & Found
There are few terrors worse that the feeling that you've lost someone you love. This much was clear to me on that summer night in 2008. From my perch in the passenger seat, I scanned the sidewalks as best I could, reminding myself to breathe. Everyone was looking, even the police. We'd find her. But we didn't know that, really. Cassandra* had wandered away in the late afternoon, and now it was night. Aileen, my friend and fellow L'Arche** assistant, was in the driver's seat. She had to focus on piloting the van, but I could tell that she was ...
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On Caregiving and Paradox: Growing Up to Be a Kid Again
"When I grow up, I want to be ... a kid again!" So proclaimed a t-shirt of a friend (and Vassar College housemate) of mine. I remembered it recently because of what I've been learning: that being a real grown-up means embracing the part of oneself that is -- and always will be -- a child. Over the last two weeks, my husband and I have been on an extended 'moving tour'. We relocated from DC to Alabama, but instead of settling into our new (old) house right away, we dropped off our furniture and continued on. Moving had its ...
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