I’m six years old in this photo. How hard I tried to please an old white God. Never could. Every Friday, I’d end up in the confessional, making up sins.
I still believe in God. Her face is that of Our Lady or Guadelupe. She is the one who holds me. She is the one whose sweetness helps me breathe through the fear.
The new pope steps out. He chose the name of St. Francis. My prayer for you, new Pope, is that you’ll grow a heart big enough to embrace the power of the feminine, one open enough to respect the wide world of different expressions of love. That you’ll spread your arms wide, in an embrace of inclusion.
We’re all pilgrims here. Each of us, walking. Left, right, breathe. One foot in front of the other.
I pray roses will spill forth again. Listen to Tom Russell’s extraordinary song, with Gretchen interpreting it.
Your sister pilgrim,
Rebecca Claire (Teresa) Wells
(That’s Teresa the Little Flower. Confirmation name. Carried small bouquet of flowers.)