Leah Perrault

Leah Perrault

Perrault works in Catholic health care in Saskatoon and writes and speaks about faith. Her website is leahperrault.com. Her Register column will appear monthly.

“Overdrawn,” I thought, as I drove out of the city. “I feel like my whole life is overdrawn.” 

Weather was at the front of my minds as I headed out to the lake this summer with four kids in tow while my husband was away working. 

Being here is so much harder than it seems. 

Curiosity is not my first response. The little voice is so imploring: “Is there just one more packet of seeds in this drawer, Mommy? I just need to plant one more packet of seeds.” I am making dinner, on a timeline, and the combination of little hands in the junk drawer and the garden boxes raises my blood pressure. I just want to finish cooking. Who has time for curiosity?

Joy is an Easter feeling and a virtue in my faith tradition. For reasons fairly obvious to me, it is not the leading line in any description anyone would ever write about me. 

Healing was not the invitation I was expecting when I showed up at church several weeks ago. 

Softening is a curious thing. We soften water, counteracting metals and minerals that stain and damage our clothing. We soften edges, to prevent slivers and injuries. We soften butter, to stop it from tearing through bread. 

Fluffy snow covered the sidewalk when I opened the garage door to leave for work. 

Choosing is in the air. At the beginning of the year, the marketers are competing for our money, and gyms and diet programs are poised to pounce on the good intentions that follow Christmas feasts. 

Dwelling is a strange concept. It’s a place and it sounds like an action: the relevance to Advent is both. 

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