I still have the scar on my forearm from when I touched it to the edge of the oversized sheet pan after taking it out of the oven. It happened the first week I worked in a busy kitchen, one year ago. I wear it well. At age sixty-three, after a lifetime of jobs that demanded my brains, wit, voice, compassion, and leadership, I jumped into the most physically demanding job of my life.
Filtering by Author: Marie Duquette
We Don’t Talk About Bruno
Mental illness, however, remains stigmatized in much the same way as being sexually assaulted. Both carry a sense of shame, often imposed by an unspoken judgment that implies the illness or injury could have been prevented if only the victim had done something differently. This makes it difficult to have honest conversations with survivors of sexual violence and those who live with mental illness. This inability to have open and compassionate conversations often leaves the one carrying the pain feeling even more isolated and unjustly ashamed.
Prophecy, Legacy, and Trees
I have dreams that come true. Not all of them, of course, but enough that I now accept this strange unbidden gift as a natural part of who I am. For example, I once dreamed that a dear friend’s daughter was pinned underneath a huge tree that had fallen on her. In the dream, she was alive, but she was unable to move the tree, and she was hurt. The next day I found out this same 16-year-old girl, had been driving too fast on a gravel road, went airborne over a bridge, and hit a telephone pole in her dad’s Dodge Ram. The pole fell, totaling the truck, and trapping her inside. She was banged up, shook up, but alive and safe. Before she had fully recovered, her dad received a bill from the city to replace the telephone pole.
Now That Was a Great Funeral
Lisa’s funeral was three years, almost to the day, from when she was first diagnosed with stage four colon cancer on March 17, 2020. She was my friend, my colleague, a woman I admired, respected, loved. From the day she was diagnosed, she wrote daily in her Caring Bridge online journal. Throughout the pandemic, her chemo, and the unmentionable discomfort she endured, Lisa wrote. She told us the ugly truth of her experience and the beautiful hope and moments of joy that met her on her journey through life to death.
Ann Arbor Healers: Indigo Forest and Chronic Pain Reduction
Beth Barbeau is a healer, and a teacher with 40+ years of midwifery and natural family health experience. Barbeau has recently added a new therapeutic device to her robust set of therapeutic options at Indigo Forest, her online and in-person business designed to help people of all ages achieve optimum health.
Pulling Weeds in Crow, Montana
I was viscerally aware, that the United States of America, with the help of the Supreme Court, has broken every single treaty it signed with our indigenous siblings. The Supreme Court recently has upended environmental law. Fire season in the dry, western states has begun. I think about Jackie Whisperstep and the fragility of her house given the heartiness of the weeds that grow too near it. And I long to go back, to stand with those to whom we made promises we did not keep.
What We Can Predict
The Farmer’s Almanac predicts a colder, flakier winter than usual for those of us who live in The Mitten. Normally this would not be worth noting, but there is no “normally” anymore, and so I do note it.
Maybe I note this prediction because at a time when truth seems to be elusive, and not being prepared threatens to be deadly, The Farmer’s Almanac is a reliable source when it comes to foretelling the weather and helping people prepare. And it tips its hat to inclusivity, in that anyone is welcome to read and heed its advice—not just farmers. According to the Old Farmer’s Almanac website, it is North America’s most popular reference guide and oldest continuously published periodical.
Weathering an Avalanche: Reflections On This Pandemic Year
I am writing this on the one-year anniversary of the first case of Covid-19 being diagnosed in Michigan. It is also the one-year anniversary of my mother’s memorial service. It was held here in Ann Arbor, at the church where I serve as a pastor. Her service was live cast on Facebook, a first for our little congregation. Family and friends tuned in from Hawaii, California, South Dakota, Arizona, Texas, Ohio, Maryland, and Florida. It was the first time in my 18 years as a pastor that I fully understood the value of live casting worship, an experience I and many of my colleagues have often considered too personal and intimate…too sacred maybe…for livestreaming on social media. It seemed so…televangelistic.
