It was so gray yesterday, on Rosie’s tenth birthday. I should have been spending the day having fun with Rosie, but I needed a moment to myself. Ten years is a long time. Ten years of wishing I could forget and ten years of wishing for just one more chance. Ten years of flashbacks, with the time between flashbacks gradually increasing, thinking I’m getting better and then getting triggered again. Ten years of learning to sleep without jeans and a... Read more
I want to say a few words about our treatment of refugees. I’ve written about our treatment of refugees many times. This time, I’m responding to our treatment of refugees from Haiti. And I’m using the word “our” very deliberately, because the United States is supposed to be a representative democracy. What our government, its law enforcement and its military do is done in our name because we vote. When they do something wrong, we do something wrong. The sins... Read more
I had hoped to write something more poetic about my daughter’s birthday, but first I’m going to have to address something that just happened to me on Twitter. I had admitted to my friends that I was having a bad day, when a follower asked me an insensitive question. That’s all it was at first, an insensitive question. Someone called Ana DiCostanzo asked me why I hadn’t called 911 when I was begging the midwife to take me to... Read more
Just a content warning to anyone who doesn’t want to read the details of medical abuse and a rape today: I’m going to write about just that. I had something more poetic planned, but I received a very curious ignorant comment that I need to take to task. I’ll have a poetic musing a little later. Yesterday was the ten-year anniversary of my water breaking after nine days of prodromal labor, two weeks past my due date, and my midwife... Read more
Hey friends, this is not a real blog post. This is just my every-so-often reminder that Steel Magnificat and my family run almost entirely on tips. I get a very small paycheck from Patheos for clicks in the United States and nothing for clicks anywhere else. That check was a two-digit number this month. I get modest book royalties once a year. And the rest of my income to support my family is gratuities from satisfied readers. I have... Read more
I dreamed I was trying to get to Columbus. My first morning back in Steubenville, Saturday, I woke up smiling. I was ready to walk my friend’s dog, grab coffee, and sit in the Park of Roses for awhile. But then I heard the menacing neighbor‘s dog’s chain rattling next door, and remembered where I was. There was no friendly snuggly medium-sized dog who greatly enjoyed her long morning walk, just the German shepherd on a chain who likes... Read more
The other day, someone on Twitter was asking for everyone to tweet the most ridiculous heretical statement they’d ever heard. “Heresy” has a very specific meaning in Catholicism, but in this case it was being used in its colloquial sense to mean “teaching that’s wrong.” As far as wrong teachings, I have heard about a million of them, and was at a loss to come up with my favorite. I was raised in the Charismatic Renewal and in Apparition Culture.... Read more
I wanted to tell you about Columbus. I just got back. I was going to write about it every single day of my trip, but somehow my voice dropped off after Monday night. I’ve just been driving around the area, getting out of my car and remembering, getting back in and driving, going back to my friend’s house to walk the dog. Sometimes grief wells up and sometimes panic, but most of the time I have been happy. I... Read more
Today I took a trip down Memory Lane– or, as most people call it, High Street. I went to visit the church and school where I received Holy Communion. When I got to Saint Michael’s, it was noon. I recalled for the first time that the classes there were staggered so that some children would be at lunch and some at recess while others were still finishing classes, to fit everyone in the cafeteria. Some children were lined up... Read more
I went to Mass at the cathedral, for the first time in decades. Saint Joseph Cathedral wasn’t our regular parish for most of my childhood, but it was the first five years or so. Some of my earlier memories are of being slung over the gray shoulder of my father’s Sunday suit, staring up at the frowning mouths of the organ pipes and the plaster statue of Saint Anne behind our usual pew. I had a vivid memory of... Read more
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