Field Notes from an Imperfect Environmentalist

In September 2015, I took my Catholic family of 8 down to Washington D. C. to see Pope Francis. We stood across from the White House in a crowd of millions and waited to see him in the Papal Parade. It wasn't a dramatic moment. Pope Francis passed by quickly and waved in the other direction from us. One kid climbed a tree for a better view and one kid feel asleep on top of my jean jacket. I'm not sure the 6 month old baby attached to his Daddy's back saw anything. Nothing happened.  Yet out of that meeting, I decided to make one small change. I picked one small volunteer project to do for the environment in honor of Pope Francis who had done so much for me.

Eight months later, I am taking the Bar Exam in July to open an Environmental Law Practice in my homestate of West Virginia. The books came this week from Barbri and the work is daunting. The last time I was in Law School was 16 years ago and I remember just enough to answer wrong on every trick multiple choice question. It's going to be an intensive summer relearning some mindnumbingly dull stuff. I felt uncertain about how to study for the bar and be a decent Mom and have a decent life.

Then last night I drove 10 miles to attend a Citizens Safe Water Forum put on by WV Rivers Coalition, the League of Women Voters and the Public Health Department. In this room of amazing, energized people I was reminded about why I want to go "pro" with all the volunteer work I've started in the past few months. Water is a basic human need. My State of West Virginia, which is poor is so many aspects, is rich in water. We are a State with a population of under 2 million that produces the drinking water for 10 million people.

I am a Mother of 6 young children and I found the time to attend an Environmental Conference in my neighborhood. I attend political rallies and City Council Meetings. I'm taking a new State Bar exam 12 years after I thought I'd retired forever from the Law.

I'm convinced that I'm not some special case. We all do amazing things for God and with God. It's the quiet, hidden work of prayer and humble service that makes us most fitted for public life. This summer, I hope that among the plans for beach trips and garden planting, you make a commitment to do "one small thing" in honor of Pope Francis. It's the Year of Mercy and the world is waiting for our small acts of love and purpose.

Why Mother's Day Isn't An Easy Day For Me

Mother's Day isn't an easy day for me to celebrate. There was no class for me to take to score an A on a Motherhood Exam. I met my husband at age 25, got married at age 26, and had our first child at age 28. I had a graduate degree and 3 years at a beloved job. Yet I struggled with confusion and self-doubt, joy and pain.

During my first pregnancy, I struggled with feeling inadequate to this role. I somehow decided that because I constantly lost umbrellas and car keys inside our rental house, it meant that I was too irresponsible to be a mother. I had vivid nightmares of leaving the baby in the carseat on a sidewalk as I went to a Walgreen Drug Store or Big Bear. Pregnancy nightmares are extra vivid. I woke my husband up with dramatic gasps for air after these dreams. I felt a type of stress I didn't feel during Law School or the Bar Exam.

My beautiful baby arrived in March 2003. Thankfully, I didn't forget about her at the Pharmacy or the Grocery Store. We jumped awkwardly and beautifully over the hurdles of newborn life. I was surprised that rather than feeling bored during my 12 week maternity leave, I felt parts of my creative brain "wake up" for the first time since I was in Middle School.

Motherhood has been an intense ride for me. I'm the Mother of 8, 6 of whom are still living. The two sons that I lost before birth are named Francisco and Leo. I don't write about them on this blog, or Facebook. There are no Instragram Pictures. There are no images of their goofy smiles in my memory. Instead, my Instagram Account is lit up with the lively antics of Hannah, Alex, Maria, Teresa, Abigail Clare, and John Jr.

Somehow it seems right on this day to take a rare pause to consider the two boys we lost, and the long, lonely stretch of secondary infertility, and the scary time at Children's Hospital NICU for Teresa and the scary multiple hospital bed rest trips for John Junior, and even the 8 months of combined colic cry festivals.

I'm the first to admit my individual path to Motherhood isn't pretty.

Sometimes, I think the reason that our culture gets so dopey with flowers on this holiday is because an honest conversation about the importance of self-denial, courage, emotional and physical health, and joy that women experience intesne Motherhood seems too intense. It's like we want the Disney Cartoon Version of Motherhood without looking at its current reality.

Motherhood isn't a job. I cared about my clients as a lawyer. I don't drag myself out of a allergy stupor at 10 PM to wash and bleach my client's karate uniform. Pushing "like" on a Facebook post for a friend's athletic event isn't the same as jumping out of my skin with excitment when my reading adverse child sits down with the Lego Movie Novelization voluntarily on a Saturday Morning. 

Before Motherhood, I could have written a dissertation about how much I hate the novelization of movies. But that was just my opinion. That feeling was based on how I experienced the world as a child. Actually spending entire lifetimes with my own children has stretched my mind as much as it has stretched my heart. I'm grateful for their cheerful, optimistic and loving presence in my life.

On this day, I salute the many women who have taught me how to mother well. Spiritual Motherhood is a profound gift that is so much bigger than mere biology. Thank you for listening.

The Joy of Local Politics

 I have a confession to make. I'm already exhausted by the US Presidential Race. As a lover of politics, I have so many great memories of watching the Presidential Debates with friends from college, jumping around with excitment during the convention coverage, and live tweeting during Presidential Election Night with friends in different time zones. It's April, and the primary season has already made me feel tired.

During this frustration period of "zoning out" of the National Conversation about the Next President of the United States, I found myself "zoning into" the excitment of local politics in my community. I live in a city of around 18,000 people in a county of around 100,000 people about 75 miles from Washington, D.C. In the past few months, I've noticed that the local political talent around here is amazing. 

Here is one new friend who is running for WV State Senate, David Manthos. The guy has a contract from Google to help save endangered fish populations from overfishing around the world. His ideas for my community in West Virginia are amazing. 

Winchester Hopkins is another local talent running for Martinsburg City Council. 

As I get out of my narrow pattern in life and talk to new neighbors, I find a lot of commonality. I'm energized. I'm hopeful. I realize that I've been living this life of "local eating" and "local homeschooling," yet I hadn't make the transfer of focus of caring either the same, or more about the leadership inside my own community, as I do about national politics in Washington, D.C. 

I'm starting a new idea inside my head of "Act Local." I Eat Local. I Buy Local. Now, I want to Act Local, too.