Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Home
Catholic
In a World of Poison

In a World of Poison

Last updated on: May 21, 2020 at 10:56 pm by Mary Pezzulo

In a World of Poison 2020-05-21T22:56:31-04:00 Mary Pezzulo

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

I went on a hike with Rosie.

The last time we went, it was still the time of year for wildflowers. Now, the wildflowers are gone. The trees all got their leaves in the past few weeks; the woods were shady, a cavern of green. It had been hot in the house and warm on the walk there, but in the forest, when the breeze blew, it was almost cool.

We walked downhill to where the beautiful creek is. Ever the homeschooling mother, I lectured on ecology and biomes. I pointed to the bat house on the side of a tree, and to other notable things as well. I showed her how to identify poison ivy.

“Don’t touch the poison hemlock,” I said, and I was mistaken. The juicy, tempting, purple-flecked stems cropping up by the path were not poison hemlock but poke. Poison hemlock has fern-like leaves and poke has broad ones. Poison hemlock paralyzes the lungs in short order and is always deadly unless you have a ventilator, but poke will also kill you given half a chance. Children play with hemlock stems because they look like whistles, and die. They also sometimes eat poke berries because they look like blueberries, and go into convulsions.

Rosie promised not to touch the poke.

I admired the may apples– a plant that looks almost like a lily pad on a stem; I used to call them “frog umbrellas” when I was Rosie’s age. The may apple is also mostly toxic, but the tiny fruit that hides beneath the foliage is edible when ripe. Someone else or some animal had gotten to the may apple fruit before me, however. There was nothing there.

Rosie sat on a tree trunk and narrated a story she is writing. She likes to dictate rambling stories that sound like they were written by Beverly Cleary, about a family of precocious boys name Nick, John, Treck and Dan. In this chapter, the boys went on a hike and Treck wandered into poison ivy but found he was immune.

When we got to the stream, Rosie tied her sneakers to the straps of her backpack and waded. I waded. We walked on algae-slick shale that was wet as a marble floor. I lectured Rosie on shale, which the whole Ohio Valley is made of, and shuddered at the thought of the frackers who want to make such a beautiful natural floor into oil to poison the earth and the atmosphere.

We passed under a tulip tree that had fallen down but was still alive.

After awhile, I put my shoes on and walked on the trail next to the stream while Rosie sloshed up the stream with a walking stick. She ended up in a pool almost knee-deep, blocked off by a miniature waterfall, and had to climb out of the ravine holding my hand.

“We’ll bring our bathing suits and play here for an hour at least next time, I promise,” I said. “We just have to go quickly now or we’ll miss the last bus home.”

Rosie dried off her feet and tied her sneakers; then she put on her cloth mask with the whimsical dinosaur print on it. A mask dotted with cartoons of extinct animals, to help keep our fellow bus passengers from dying out.

“I’m frowning at you,” she said, because she hates the mask.

“I know,” I replied from behind my white one. “I can see it in your eyes.”

The mask moved in front a little. “I’m sticking out my tongue!”

We had a few minutes before the bus, so I ran into a store and bought her a Milky Way bar to make up for the indignity.

“You are being very respectful of other people by wearing the mask,” I droned. “You can take it off the moment we get off the bus, I promise.”

It was while I was riding home, looking down at Rosie’s beautiful eyes above that dinosaur mask, that the vertigo came over me again.

I am raising a daughter in a world I can’t understand.

The world I grew up in, and was raised to live in, does not exist. I grew up in a dream world in the 80s and 90s, a Charismatic Catholic and a Cloud Chaser who panicked at the thought that the Three Days of Darkness were coming, where demons would knock on the window and scream at us to be let inside. I thought that was Catholicism. Then I woke up, in a world with a different set of nightmares. The world I am awake in is full of things that can hurt and kill. Some of those things I learned about in my own childhood: poke and hemlock, may apple, poison ivy. Other threats I wasn’t taught to expect: shale oil and the frackers who bleed it from our valley may well kill us. The air is slowly boiling with excesses of methane and carbon, and that may well kill us. The breath of strangers may well be infected with a brand new virus that could give you a cough or suffocate you, only God knows which, and only God knows when or if that will go away.

I’m raising a child in this nightmare, and not the one I was brought up in.

I think all mothers have found themselves in a similar state.

The bus rolled up to LaBelle. Rosie hopped off; she ripped off the mask and stuffed it in my purse.

And then we were home.

Image via Pixabay

Mary Pezzulo is the author of Meditations on the Way of the Cross.

Steel Magnificat operates almost entirely on tips. To tip the author, visit our donate page.

Previous Post

May 19, 2020

Norma McCorvey's "Deathbed Confession" Reveals A Decades-Old Con

Next Post

May 23, 2020 The Jig Is Up: A Review of "AKA Jane Roe"

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category abortion Abuse Advent America American Christianity angel angels Annunciation Appalachia apparition apparition chaser apparition chasers apparition culture art art review babies baby baby Jesus Bad Lip Reading bad statue contest bath beauty Bible story blog blogkeeping blood book review Brandon Sanderson breastfeeding bus Catholic catholic conspiracy alarmism Catholic Oppositional Disorder Charismatic Renewal Charlie the Cat chastity Christ Christian idenitity Christianity and Judaism Chronic Illness clean clothing COD piece comedy compassion conscience conspiracy theory conversion cop-on-black violence Crucifixion cry of the poor culture Daesh Daily Saints death death penalty devotional diaconate diaper diapers dirty disability Donald Trump Dorothy Day dream drugs Eastern Catholicism Eastern Christianity education election election update Elsewhere on Patheos empathy environment Fear feminism film review fish flashback fluffy buns food Franciscan University of Steubenville Friendship Room fun Gabriel gardening gospel hair-splitting Heaven hell heresy Hillary Clinton history Holly the Witch Holy Spirit holy war Homeschooling homosexuality horror human dignity humor Icon idol immigrants infection inter-religious dialogue Interpretation of Scripture Islam Jesus Jihad Joseph joy laity and lay vocations lamb dinner laundry lent lgbtq literature love manners Mary Medicine and Science Meditation mercy mess milk misogyny Missouri monasticism monster motherhood mourn with those mourn movies movis music mystery nature neurodiversity New Pro-Life Movement news nonsense nostalgia O antiphons obituary objectification Ohio Valley Ordinary Time ordination Ordo Amoris parable paradox Passover peanut butter personal beliefs pets philosophy Planet Charismatic poetry politics polls poop Pope Francis Pope Leo power in the Church prayer prayer request prayers preferential option for non-violence president presidential election priest primary private revelation pro-life prophecy Public face of Catholicism Pure Flix Q and A race racism random rape rape. sexuality reader's request Reckoners refugee religious trauma ressurrection Right to life Saints saints and celebrations same-sex same-sex marriage satire scandal secular feasts seder Seven Joys Seven Last Words sex sexual ethics sexuality silencing six months skid row slavery social justice Speculative fiction spiritual abuse spoon stain story suffering suffrage suffragette Sunday Gospel temple Tenebrae Responsories Terror the exorcist The Friendship Room The New Pro-Life Movement Things I Learned on the Internet tin cup traffic true story tv review Uncategorized USCCB vice and temptation violence Virtue virtue and vice war Way of the Cross whimsy whole life women's ordination work of mercy Year A

Select a Month October 2026 September 2026 August 2026 July 2026 June 2026 May 2026 April 2026 March 2026 February 2026 January 2026 December 2025 November 2025 October 2025 September 2025 August 2025 July 2025 June 2025 May 2025 April 2025 March 2025 February 2025 January 2025 December 2024 November 2024 October 2024 September 2024 August 2024 July 2024 June 2024 May 2024 April 2024 March 2024 February 2024 January 2024 December 2023 November 2023 October 2023 September 2023 August 2023 July 2023 June 2023 May 2023 April 2023 March 2023 February 2023 January 2023 December 2022 November 2022 October 2022 September 2022 August 2022 July 2022 June 2022 May 2022 April 2022 March 2022 February 2022 January 2022 December 2021 November 2021 October 2021 September 2021 August 2021 July 2021 June 2021 May 2021 April 2021 March 2021 February 2021 January 2021 December 2020 November 2020 October 2020 September 2020 August 2020 July 2020 June 2020 May 2020 April 2020 March 2020 February 2020 January 2020 December 2019 November 2019 October 2019 September 2019 August 2019 July 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019 December 2018 November 2018 October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

I was beautiful and cunning, leading a rebellion against my father by stealing the hearts of Israel. Who am I?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Solomon Amnon Adonijah Absalom