As a teen and young adult, I had an unusual habit
whenever I was in a department store. I enjoyed going to the
baby shoes section and internally oohing and ahhing over the
amazingly adorable mini sandals, moccasins, and tiny little
dress up shoes. I babysat some, but my favorite times were
when all the children were asleep, and I could just look at the
toys and baby stuff and dream of my own future children.
Sometimes, these imaginary children were adopted children.
As I traveled away from my growing up home and
toward a small liberal arts university, one that was in the midst
of breaking ties with the religious denomination of my youth,
I was anxious and thrilled at the same time. My parents gave
me great voice and choice in this decision even though I
imagined that deep down they were a little, or maybe a lot,
afraid of what I might learn there. A few adults in my world
warned me of the dangers of a liberal education.
I quickly connected with a Christian fellowship on
campus and began to find my places and spaces in this new
home. I avoided most of the fraternity parties because of the
teetotal religious teaching of my church. In time, I got involved
in a church and joined a campus sorority so that I could be a
good influence on the “heathens.”
At one point, in order to participate in leadership, the
adult leader of my college fellowship group called a meeting
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