I listened to Richard Rohr's webcast on the Odyssey. Rohr praised Homer for his spiritual genius as he described the two journeys required to become whole -- the work of the first half of life and the contrasting labor of the second half of life. 

Odysseus left home to fight the Trojan war and worked for ten years to return to his wife, son, father and dog! Then he sets out for the mainland, following the instruction of a blind prophet, where Odysseus is identified as a man of discernment. Finally, Odysseus "has made peace with all the pieces of his life," Rohr told us.

What is the first and second part of the journey for Penelope, his wife, who stayed at home these many years? She did not travel far and wide, but the world came to her front door. Her labor of discernment came about as she stayed put. In the patriarchal context of her world, she, too, became wise. 

This is a happy family and it is mine! We are standing in front of the Alamo, in San Antonio, Texas. We were touring with a kind family who hosted us. What a special shot. I love it!

I offer you a photograph to break up the text here. That's about it. My oldest sister is grown and married. I am the girl second from the right. 

Yesterday my husband and I drove into a nearby city to bring some things to our son. As I begin this entry, our son is sitting down to take a final in one of his pre-term classes. The timing of our delivery may have been unwise but, nevertheless, we brought him curtain rods and hemmed curtains for one room, a hoya plant to enliven one corner of that room, and a few more things.

Our son's arrival in the graduate program marks a strong step in his life. He has worked hard to get to this place, not only in academic programs, but in understanding his relationships in many areas of his life. 

I find it difficult to adequately notice and name what this means to me because I am almost overwhelmed with joy, amazement and gratitude. Joy, because the program appears to be an excellent fit for his passions; amazement, because he is there; and deep gratitude that his father and I have made significant contributions in blood, sweat, and tears to this end.

I am amazed. When I acknowledge the stresses of my life, I can expand my empathy toward others. For example, I would like my daughter to live near me. As I let myself be aware of the pain of our separation, I know that I share a painful separation with other mothers, one that I rarely let myself feel. Then I know that even if I am reunited in physical proximity with my daughter, other mothers, more than I can imagine, remain distant from their daughters for many reasons.

Surprisingly, it is a relief to share my burden with other mothers.