Hey! Who's eating my flowers?

It's the most wonderful time.... of the year (I seem to sing this one a lot, have you noticed? I guess because there are many wonderful times of the year besides Christmas.)

Spring is probably my fave. So much potential!

On unrainy days you'll find me wandering the yard, or just standing and looking for new growth. And sometimes taking pictures of wee things sprouting. And sometimes posting them to Instagram with hashtags #ilovespringmiracles and #everythingsamiracle.

The first thing with more than your basic spring green to show up in my yard (I really shouldn't call green basic after seven months of winter white-grey-brown!) are tiny scille (plural of scilla), or squills. I get a charge out of their tightly-wound little blue buds -- I took this picture last week. It made me think of a little off-kilter earth on Earth Day, waiting to unfurl into deep blue flowers. I love when there's a little sea of them blooming among the autumn leaves that are the mulch in many of my flower beds.

This morning, I went to check on them... and hundreds of little blue flowers were missing! The plants are still there, and the little stems stand with nothing on top! I've been robbed (or rather, my scille have). That means no seeds for next year's bulbs, sigh.

This has never happened before. I mean, maybe a few have been eaten without me noticing, but usually there are hundreds of tiny cobalt blue flowers among my raspberry canes, lilies, and tulips. Finding not a one, I decided to check the front yard, and there I found one solitary scilla with two flowers peeking up. Fearful for its life?

I'm not sure if it's an early spring or a late one as far as squirrels' stomachs are concerned. Or maybe it was the voles and mice in the neighbourhood that ate all those little flowers, as I suspect they're temporary tenants in my leaf and compost bins. I'm a bit disappointed that they didn't leave any blue blossoms for their landlady's eyes to enjoy, but hey, if you're starving, beauty comes second.

So next year, if you happen to see me wandering around my yard with a pepper mill, grinding pepper onto some tiny green shoots, please understand that I haven't lost my marbles... I'm just trying to deter a few rodents and save a few little blue scille flowers just for beauty's sake.

Better luck next year!

Blessing Earth on Earth Day

What are you doing to celebrate Earth Day this year?

Aware, as we are, of the places on the planet that are suffering and struggling because of war and climate change, it seems like nothing we can do is enough to make a difference. 

But in reading Robin Wall Kimmerer's beautiful book, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Milkweed Editions 2013, ISBN978-1-57131-356-0), I was struck by her teaching that the Earth loves us by giving us everything we need for life -- not just the food we grow, but the air, water, soil and other beings with whom we share her abundance. 

So on Earth Day, though I can't personally do very much to slow the course of climate change or stop the war in Ukraine and other places, blessing the little patch of earth where I live -- in whatever ways I can -- makes sense to me.

Since it's a calm and somewhat sunny morning here, I carried out my annual ritual of scattering blessings around my garden. Using left over palms and dried cedar branches from Palm Sunday last year, some sage and tobacco, I made a little fire and sang El Senyor, a Taize song of thanksgiving, as it burned. This afternoon, I'll spread the ashes around the yard, using words like these:

Creator of all that is,

thank you for your abundant blessings

that come to us through Earth,

our Mother.

Thank you for all those who have lived here

over many centuries,

especially Indigenous Peoples

who lived in harmony

with all their relations,

and who have much to teach us.

Thank you for this soil,

which you have freely given

through the natural processes

of erosion and decomposition,

and for the seeds that only you can make to grow.

Bless this year's garden and help it to flourish:
bless the tomatoes and the berries,
the corn, beans, and squash,
and all other plant relations,
along with the birds, butterflies,
bees, spiders,
and others who visit
or live here.

Give us all enough warmth and sun, 
but not too much,
and rain when we need it.

Please protect this garden,
and all our gardens,
from drought or hail or damaging pests.

(And if you could keep the mosquito population to a dull roar,
I'd really appreciate it!)

Protect our trees from blight and strong winds,
and keep in your care the birds
who come to splash in the birdbath
or nibble the snow peas.

And if we should have one of THOSE storms,
may I be as gracious as Job and say,
"The Lord gives and the Lord takes away;
blessed be the name of the Lord."

Bless and help farmers with good weather conditions;
their gardens are so much bigger than mine!

I ask your special blessings on those who have had to flee

places where fertile earth is being pillaged by the ravages of war.

Please bring to us to a peace-filled harvest,
and help us to share our abundance with others who need it.

Break the hearts of the wealthy

so that they may do their part to share in the work

of adapting our world to climate change

and caring for those communities

and creatures that struggle most

because of it.

Thank you for all the life
that lives on this sacred planet.

Bless it,
and bless us,
and help us to remember
that your whole world
and all beings within it
form your beautiful and blessed garden
that deserves our love and care.

+Amen.

And then I'll give Mother Earth some sweet pea seeds so we can both delight in some fragrant summer flowers...

What are you doing to celebrate Earth Day this year?

Simple Pleasures: a hot "cuppa"

I don't remember much about Grade Seven, but Mrs. Pisesky, my Home Economics teacher, comes to mind whenever I make a pot of Orange Pekoe tea. It seems to me that when she taught us the basics of baking soda biscuits or whatever Home Ec meant in those Grade Seven days, she had us make tea, too.

Coming from a family of coffee drinkers, tea was rather exotic to me. But I learned to like Orange Pekoe because of Home Ec. To this day, a cup of it wakes happy olfactory memories, somehow. I suspect Mrs. Pisesky bought good old-fashioned Red Rose tea, and I learned to drink it with a teaspoon of sugar and a splash of milk in her Home Ec class once a week, long before I became a coffee drinker.

When I reached High School, my friend Mina introduced me to her mom's spicy-milky chai. Who knew how good black pepper, cardamom, ginger, and other spices could be when steeped with Taj Mahal tea and scalded milk? Some years later, Mrudula shared her masala recipe with me, and ever since, whenever I've wanted a more nourishing cup of tea, I make MMMMM Chai... Mina's Mom Mrudula's Marvelous Masala Chai. My daughter loves it, too.

After becoming a Second Cup coffee addict during university, tea left my consciousness for quite a while. But a 2016 January High Tea at Jenny Butchart's Residence in the gardens named after her (near the staunch High Tea city of Victoria B.C.) started me on a slow but steady turn toward a morning cuppa. Coffee's caffeine was getting to be too much for my inherited Essential Tremor, and during that visit, my best friend introduced me to a world of teas made from all sorts of blends of lovely organic herbs and spices. I owe Cathy a debt of gratitude for that!

And some of those teas have such lovely names. Pink Pearl (Green and White) Tea. Bachelor Button (Black) Tea (from Butchart Gardens). Gingerbread (Rooibos) Tea. And there were many others. My favourite at the moment is called White Divine, which has a light blueberry flavour and comes from a local coffee shop.

And then there are the backyard teas -- mint, and lemon balm, and raspberry leaf to settle an upset stomach. I've never been a big fan of the super-fruity commercial herbal teas, but they are a nice change once in a while. The teas mentioned above are just the shallowest end of the pond... there are thousands, if not millions of varieties, and more and more people inventing their own blends, which I would like to learn to do myself.

Don't get me wrong -- I haven't completely given up on coffee -- I drink decaf quite regularly, and still love my Lidia espresso once a week. That's a simple pleasure, too.

But after a weekend of feeling under the weather (no thanks to Spring Allergies that masqueraded as potential covid-19 and spoiled Easter plans with family) and several "restorative" cups of tea, I just want to draw attention to the simple pleasure of a good hot "cuppa" whatever kind of tea you prefer.

Appreciating simple pleasures improves our happiness quotient!

Embracing the Risen One

Pixabay image

Today's reflection is brought to you by 
John 20: 11-18.

I sought the one I loved,

my best friend,

but you were gone.

The strangers asked why I was weeping.

Isn't that what usually happens in the place of tombs?

They wouldn't (couldn't?) 

tell me where to find you,

so though it was difficult to see through my tears,

I began my search

by asking the gardener.

But it was your voice that said my name!

In an instant, I wrapped my arms around you

and felt your arms around me.

And we laughed and laughed

with sheer delight and surprise

-- and complete joy.

* * * * * * *

On Sunday morning at the Community of Emmanuel, Quinn invited me to proclaim the Easter story from the 20th chapter of the Gospel of John. It's another of my favourites, where Mary Magdalen can't see through her tears one minute, and the next, she leaps forward and wraps both arms around a laughing and risen Jesus. At least, that's how I picture it -- the ultimate happy ending!

Pastor Quinn gave a beautiful sermon about how we can be on our knees with sorrow and struggle and not see Christ with us because of the tears in our eyes and the pain in our hearts. I'm sure he said many other beautiful things as well, but I was distracted by a young woman who was dancing, just a few feet away from me, to music only she could hear. 

She flitted closer and closer until she was right beside me. Then she sidled up against me and rested her head on my shoulder, whispering something I couldn't quite hear. I rested my head against hers, and thought about putting my arm around her, but I didn't want to scare her away. We stood with our heads together for a few moments, and then she flitted away again.

I'm not sure what that was about for her, and I'll never know. What I do know is that, after reading about the way Mary encountered the Risen One, I felt like I had done the same, somehow. It was, for me, a moment of grace not unlike that of having a butterfly land on my shoulder. It wasn't quite like wrapping my arms around Jesus, but it moved me deeply.

I can't stop thinking about that young woman. My prayers are with her this week, that wherever she is, she can be safe, and cared for in the ways she most needs.

I also pray that this Easter Season brings you many opportunities to be embraced by the Risen One -- however he appears in your life!

A Good Friday Evening Prayer Around the Cross

If you are able, please join me in prayer and reflection this Good Friday Evening at 7 pm Mountain Standard Time. Christians from all denominations are welcome to pray in this ecumenical prayer that includes scripture, song, and ten minutes of silence. It's the silence that I particularly love, and knowing that I am not alone in it, that there are other people praying with me.

Every life is touched by suffering, and Good Friday is the day when Christ shows us how to suffer, and how to love beyond suffering. Tonight's scripture will be proclaimed in English, French, and Ukrainian, and we will sing of the mystery of Good Friday in a few different languages using chants from the Taize Community. 

All are welcome. Please share this livestreamed event with your friends -- praying together, even online and at a distance, is a powerful thing. If the 7 p.m. timeslot doesn't work for you, the video will be available for at least 24 hours.

You'll find the prayer live (and after the fact) at this link: https://www.facebook.com/events/1020594508867486.

Blessings of these holy days on you, dear readers!

Close encounter of the skunk kind

So much for my day lily...

After delivering fresh homemade Easter Bread to my family last night, Lee and I took Shadow for a walk in the 9 p.m. darkness. It was a chilly walk, and Shadow hustled home in a hurry because he just got a haircut on Monday and feels the cold more keenly ever since. 

As we turned the corner of the house to our back gate, he was near the end of his leash... and it looked like there was a cat in the middle of the space between our place and our neighbour's house. Not wanting an altercation, I yanked on the leash, and Shadow paused long enough for me to realize I was looking at a cat with two definite white stripes up its back. 

"Wait, wait, wait!" I told the dog, hauling him closer to me, heart pounding, holding my breath in case we were about to be blasted with that special brand of perfume... 

But no. The little critter backed away, and quickly waddled along our neighbour's sidewalk and under the shrub on the corner of their house. Shadow didn't have a chance to bark or even growl before it disappeared.

Thank God!

I've been smelling a lot of marijuana smells around our house, and thought our neighbours might be indulging in a little cannabis lately. I even asked our nephew if he might be trying the stuff, though he's not that kind of guy. 

Turns out, I was smelling a small black-and-white critter, who has been sizing up my flowerbeds, looking for some tender vittles in the form of day lily tubers. It dug quite a hole, but I'm not sure it managed to sate its hunger very much before we interrupted its plans!

Sir or madam skunk, you can help yourself to all the tubers your little heart desires -- just please don't spray us!

(And to the humans walking around our neighbourhood, I recommend going in daylight hours when you can see our little skunk neighbour a long way off!)

Sunday Reflection: The Good Thief?

Today's reflection is brought to you by 

Thanks to Philip K for sharing
this image on Flickr

Luke 23: 32-33, 39-43.

The three of us walked 

the same path

to the top of 

the hill.

We were subjected 

to the same punishment

and felt the same pain.

Or did we?

Two of us

deserved it

according to the

colonizers' law.

But you.

While we were engaged

in cutthroat pursuits,

you were helping

and healing

and talking about

--and showing--

how to love.

You.

In agony,

like we were,

for no reason

that I could see.

My partner-in-crime

muttered and scoffed

at the would-be-Messiah

hanging between us.

I am sure 

you heard him too

and finally, 

I could bear it no longer.

We have been condemned justly,

for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds,

but this man has done nothing wrong.

Jesus,

remember me 

when you come into your kingdom.

I could not 

see your face,

nor you, 

mine.

I knew of your deeds

from the stories 

people told.

What did you know of me?

Did you know 

the atrocities

I committed?

You made

no comment,

asked no question,

nor insisted on confession.

Just

Truly, 

I tell you,

today you will be with me in Paradise.

Millennia pass

and I become known as

the Good Thief.

But that's not 

it 

at all.

You welcomed 

me

as you welcome

everyone.

No matter what.

You offered love to 

me

as you offer it to 

all.

We may not be 

all that we could be,

we may not even be 

good,

but you love us 

into Paradise.

Period.

Thank you 

for your grace,

which makes up

for all we lack

and loves us 

home.

+Amen.

Creating a world of enough

Sign GBLI petition here

Like so many people, I live with my feet in two worlds. My main involvements right now are coordinating lunches for homeless folks with no disposable income, and being an usher at the Francis Winspear Centre for Music, which caters to people who have enough disposable income to attend concerts. 

Driving downtown for my shift last night, I saw patrons of the arts in glittering clothing, and Brian, who came to our last service at ICPM wearing filthy socks in place of shoes on (we did manage to find him a pair of second-hand boots).

All of the above tells me that our world is far from what God wants for us, and what true justice dictates. Every human being deserves a world of enough, but too many people fall through the cracks because of illness, misfortune, trauma, and other situations that leave them destitute.

But it doesn't have to be that way. People have been talking about concepts like Universal Basic Income or Guaranteed Living Wage for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. The problem is that they've been argued concepts instead of realities. Theorists never manage to get us to put our monies where they need to be! 

The idea is that if everyone has enough to cover their basic needs, all people benefit because no one has to pay for those who fall through the cracks out of neglect -- since there is very little neglect. Simply put, most people living below the poverty line will prefer to look after themselves and contribute to a functioning society if they can, rather than live on its lower rungs in an over-regulated welfare situation where they can never get ahead.

I've been looking for a good video presentation on the benefits of Guaranteed Basic Liveable Income (or GBLI, as it seems to be called in Canada) and haven't found much. Most of the presentations suggest that it's too risky or the projected results of a trial run are too uncertain to merit even an attempt. I'm wondering if those videos are made by rich folks who want to keep poor people poor instead of sharing their wealth.

The thing is, our present income assistance programs have so many tricky disqualifications built into them that some of my own family members will never get ahead. Instead of being a hand up, current social assistance programs hold people back through challenging limitations on how the money is allocated and used, while a GBLI means that people are free to make their own choices, no one is disqualified for having enough, and healthcare and education are available to everyone on a more equitable basis.

The only problem I can see with the idea of a Guaranteed Basic Liveable Income is that it hasn't been given a fair try in North America. That's why this post is about creating a world of enough, making sure that no one has to struggle for their basic needs. No one should ever have to choose between rent and groceries, or medicine and electricity!

If you agree, and you live in Canada, click here for the link to a petition you can sign to encourage the Canadian Government to get to work on implementing a GBLI for all. And if you live elsewhere, I hope you can look into the possibilities for your own part of the world.

Everyone deserves enough, wouldn't you say?

Lazarus revisited

This is still my favourite version of the Lazarus story that we hear in this Sunday's gospel reading. I share here a moodling from 5 years ago, revisited, because I think it sheds a different light on an old story, giving it a meaning that isn't usually preached in churches! 

* * * * * * *

A friend recently returned from a L'Arche retreat with a new view of the story of the death of Lazarus from the eleventh chapter of John's Gospel (I've borrowed from The Message and the Good News Translation for the version below). When we come to the gospel reading on the fifth Sunday of Lent, I like to close my eyes and see it this way…

A man was sick, Lazarus of Bethany, the town of Mary and her sister Martha. This was the same Mary who massaged the Lord’s feet with aromatic oils and then wiped them with her hair. It was her brother Lazarus who was sick. So the sisters sent word to Jesus, “Master, the one you love so very much is sick.” 

We don’t know much at all about Lazarus, other than that he was Mary and Martha’s brother. It is unusual that the two women seem to be the heads of the household and that Lazarus doesn't seem to bear any responsibility for looking out for his unmarried sisters in the patriarchal society of Jesus’ day. There are also no recorded conversations between Lazarus and Jesus, while we know about his conversations with Martha and Mary. These things could indicate that Lazarus might have been a person with a developmental disability who lived in the care of his sisters.

It's an interesting idea, and one that makes perfect sense to me because of my experiences with family members and friends who have developmental disabilities. They have a knack for gathering special people around them simply by their desire to have friends and by their unconditional love and welcome for everyone they meet. They are unapologetic about needing help, unlike those of us who are mostly able to care for ourselves.

So it’s not hard for me to imagine Lazarus seeing Jesus somewhere in his travels, taking a liking to him, asking him for help to do up his sandal, then inviting him to supper. This vision of Lazarus reminds me of my friend Harry*, who invited a solitary Japanese tourist at a campground to join his L'Arche vacation group for supper (Hiro was so moved by Harry’s openness and hospitality that later he returned to Canada to join our L’Arche community on a permanent basis, and Harry and Hiro are friends to this day).

I imagine that because of Lazarus, Jesus meets Mary and Martha, their brother’s caregivers, who are used to Lazarus bringing home stray dogs and new friends. They all welcome Jesus as if he was an expected dinner guest, and a deep friendship begins -- one that I'm guessing is full of fun, laughter and unconditional love. That’s why, when Lazarus becomes ill, his sisters send word to Jesus. They know that Jesus loves Lazarus, and they trust that their healer friend will help.

But Jesus is held up for a few days because his disciples want him to lay low, afraid after an encounter with some Jews who are accusing him of blasphemy and who might still be carrying stones in their pockets in case they meet Jesus again. So he appeases his disciples, saying that

“This sickness is not fatal. It will become an occasion to show God’s glory by glorifying God’s Son.”

Clearly, Jesus knows things that the disciples, Martha and Mary don’t…

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had been buried four days before. Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, and many Judeans had come to see Martha and Mary to comfort them about their brother's death. 

When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed in the house. Martha said to Jesus, “If you had been here, Lord, my brother would not have died! But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask him for.” 

“Your brother will rise to life,” Jesus told her. Martha replied, “I know that he will be raised up in the resurrection at the end of time.”

Jesus gives Martha a triple-whammy of good news. 1) Lazarus will rise, 2) knowing Jesus himself is life itself, and therefore 3) Martha and anyone who believes in Jesus will also have eternal life! He says:

“You don’t have to wait for the End. I am, right now, Resurrection and Life. The one who believes in me, even though he or she dies, will live. And everyone who lives believing in me does not ultimately die at all. Do you believe this?”

“Yes, Lord!” she answered. “I do believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who was to come into the world.” After saying this, she went to her sister Mary and whispered in her ear, “The Teacher is here and is asking for you.”  

The moment Mary heard it, she jumped up and ran out to him. Jesus had not yet entered the town but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The people who were in the house with Mary comforting her followed her when they saw her get up and hurry out. They thought that she was going to the grave to weep there. 

Mary arrived where Jesus was, and as soon as she saw him, she fell at his feet. “Lord,” she said, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died!” 

Mary is completely at home with Jesus. Her grief at losing Lazarus knocks her to the ground, and she doesn't care if Jesus sees it. She knows that he feels it too. If you've ever lost someone dear to you, you know what it can be like when a friend comes to be with you in your grief...

Jesus saw her weeping, and he saw how the people with her were weeping also; his heart was touched, and he was deeply moved.  

Jesus wept.

I love that these two words are the shortest verse in the Bible. If Jesus weeps, we all have permission to weep, and more than that, we all need to allow ourselves to grieve. He’s showing us that our human emotions are gifts, too. And if Jesus can weep, in public, every person can do the same no matter their gender, never mind the idea that "Men don't cry."

“See how much he loved him!” the people said. Others among them said, “Well, if he loved him so much, why didn’t he do something to keep him from dying? After all, he opened the eyes of a blind man.” 

In my mind, these are also people who loved Lazarus deeply. Lazarus probably united all the neighbours in Bethany – everyone knew him, and everyone looked out for him – and he looked out for everyone too (like my friend Thomas* does), greeted them all by name every day, smiled at them even when they didn’t smile back, and doled out plenty of hugs. So of course they’re a little miffed that Jesus would heal a blind man and not their beloved friend. And Jesus hears their murmurings and feels the same way about Lazarus as they do.

Deeply moved once more, Jesus went to the tomb, which was a cave with a stone placed at the entrance. Martha, the dead man's sister, said, “There will be a bad smell, Lord. He has been buried four days!” Jesus said to her, “Didn't I tell you that you would see God's glory if you believed?” 

Martha’s heart leaps. Of course she believes in Jesus, who loves her brother so deeply. Anything is possible with that kind of love.

They took the stone away. Jesus looked up and said, “I thank you, Father, that you listen to me. I know that you always listen to me, but I say this for the sake of the people here, so that they will believe that you sent me.” After he had said this, he called out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!”  

He came out, his hands and feet wrapped in grave cloths, and with a cloth around his face. “Unbind him,” Jesus told them, “and let him go.” 

And there stands Lazarus, fumbling with the cloths with one hand, his other hand reaching out for his friends, the hugest smile on his face, probably even laughing with delight, as if to say, “I’m so glad you came! This calls for a celebration!”

Jesus healed many people in his short ministry, and could have raised many more people from the dead, but according to John's gospel, Lazarus is the only one. If Lazarus was a man with a developmental disability, Jesus' attentiveness and love for him tells us a lot about God's special love for people with disabilities of any kind.

And if God loves them so much, it seems we need to allow them more room to bind us together as community, to pay attention to how they call forth our love, and how their love helps us to accept our own limitations. Relationships with persons with disabilities help us to become people who celebrate -- not money, fame, or power, but rather -- every person because all of us have our own abilities and disabilities. Let's face it, none of us are perfect.

John's gospel tells this amazing story about life and death and life again before we hear about Jesus' death and resurrection. Maybe we've heard this story so many times that it's ceased to be amazing for us. But this version helped me to view it in a way that makes all its characters more real to me. My reflection for today is to imagine the celebrations that ensued for Lazarus, the man who called forth so much compassion and joy in Bethany. What an incredible party!

And when we all walk out of our graves to endless life with our loved ones, it will be even moreso!

*I use pseudonyms for my L'Arche friends.

Book Review: This Is How It Always Is by Laurie Frankel

 As a follow up to yesterday's post, here's something I've been meaning to moodle about for a while -- Laurie Frankel's book, This Is How It Always Is (New York: Flat Iron Books 2018, ISBN 9781250088550). It's a fictional account of a family coming to terms with their child/sibling's gender dysphoria, and their acceptance of the journey as it unfolds.

In learning about my own family situation, I've read several good non-fiction books that helped me to understand the importance of supporting our youngest child as they "grew into" the person they really are. This fictional account of Claude's journey to becoming Poppy helped me to recognize certain similarities in our own family's experience of seeing and welcoming a non-binary person among us. Although it is fiction, it reminded me that no one is really alone in these situations.

Books like this one are important, because they help us to move beyond our own experiences and come to an understanding that, as with so many situations, our human knowledge is imperfect. So often, we have to feel our way along, making adjustments, until we get things right, or close to it. Parenting is never as simple as we'd like to think. As Rosie, Poppy's mom, says on page 378,

Parenting always involves this balance between what you know, what you guess, what you fear, and what you imagine. You’re never certain, even (maybe especially) about the big deals, the huge, important ones with all the ramifications and repercussions. But alas, no one can make these decisions, or deal with their consequences, but you…. 

That is a scary thing. And that's our experience too... We fuddled along and made many mistakes, but kept trying our best. After necessary surgical changes our child fits and feels more comfortable in their skin, whereas before, they chafed in an ill-shaped body. Can you imagine how that would feel?

Stating the obvious, life is complicated. Being transgender will never be easy in a world that is slow to understand, but it’s easier than living in a body that doesn’t fit, with the suicidal tendencies that too often come with that. If our culture, like Thailand's, accepted a certain fluidity when it comes to gender, suicide rates would fall, trans folks wouldn't have to be afraid of being targeted, and we wouldn't have to have the Trans Day of Remembrance every November 20th. 

Fortunately, for our family, our kid is strong and has managed to withstand some very tough times. I see their joy now that their body matches who they know themself to be, and that makes it all worth it. After some years of struggle, they are beginning to live into their life more fully, to try to BE without anxiety. There will always be strange looks and people who don’t understand, but the ones who know them love them as they are. 

I dream of a day when no one looks askance at anyone else for being different.

Laurie Frankel's This Is How It Always Is is a beautiful expression of the understanding and acceptance of a family who helps their gender-fluid child find herself. Books like this help people who don't know (or don't realize they know) gender-fluid people to gain some understanding of life beyond their own experience. That's what good fiction does -- it brings awareness of different ways of looking at the world so that we can accept each other better.

I highly recommend this book to anyone who is a parent, or who loves someone struggling to be who they know themself to be.