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.

After we are small children, it is rare that we are carried. Perhaps for a joke or dare, a photo-op at a threshold, maybe in the case of injury, or in certain situations in old age? My baby is big enough now I rarely carry his full weight unless he is asleep.

Growing up in rural Saskatchewan planted a special place in my heart for the wildflowers that grow in the ditches. Blue alfalfa, purple thistles, bright yellow brown-eyed susans. When I moved to the city to study, I saw them less frequently, and I did not realize how much I missed the wildflowers until I spent several weeks at a youth camp this summer, thanks to my husband’s working there and my maternity leave.

I love words. They flow constantly from my head to my heart, spill out of my mouth with laughter, make sense of my world.  And sometimes, words fail. They take the air from my lungs or hit me in the face. Sometimes, there isn’t sense to be made. 

I have found God inescapable for most of my life. Even when I try to run away, there He is.