Stories by Donna Marie Todd

I was a preacher's child, so I grew up in churches. I spent a lot of time looking at stained glass windows on Sunday mornings and Wednesday evenings. Not because my Daddy's sermons were boring. But because preachers practice their sermons like singers working on a song, and when you've heard the same one several times, your mind tends to wander when you hear it again. Some of the stained-glass windows were inspiring, some were bland, and still others were works of art. Take the glorious Tiffany windows I starred at for hours as a senior in high school for instance. They radiated religion out into the world with their intricate patterns and rich, jewel-tone colors. I remember wanting to wear Mary's blue velvet dress to the prom. During middle school, I starred at geometric squares of harvest gold and avocado green in the sanctuary of a coal-country church. They matched the appliances in our kitchen. When I was in first grade, the church had windows that were tinted a pale white. They were just like the windows in the bathroom at school: frosted to keep peeping Toms from watching little girls pull up their skirts. My son grew up in churches, too. He's 30 now and he was telling a friend of mine that he knew she was important to him because her color was in his soul. Intrigued, she said, "What do you mean by that?" He answered, "Well, when we take out first breath, our souls are crystal clear. Then life happens to us. Each person we meet adds their color to our soul. Some people touch us with love and soft colors, others touch our minds or imagination and splatter us with vibrant colors. And, of course, meanness and sorrow add the dark colors that make the shadows in our soul." Love and beauty, sorrow and pain. These are the things that change our crystal-clear souls into colorful stained-glass.

My son is in internal medicine practice now. He's financially secure. His fiance is also well-employed in engineering. They'll be married soon. But when I brought up those grandchildren I would love to have, he almost snapped my head off. Why? Why would my loving son respond that way? Because the idea of bringing a child into "this ugly, burning world" terrifies him. His Dad and I never thought about that when we were practicing procreation as a form of youthful recreation. (We were care-free about it! I wasn't supposed to be able to have a child, but that's another story, one I like to tell at women's retreats.) We were able to afford a little house, the price of food was reasonable. Sure there was crime, but only in certain neighborhoods. School shootings hadn't started, no dark web internet was providing the motivation or instructions for that yet. Once my sweet, caring son explained his fears about fatherhood, I couldn't forget it. Every time I see a baby now the conversation flies back in my face. I can't help but wonder if the parents are "together" or if they can afford their child's future. I can't help but fear for the day that child starts kindergarten with a live shooter drill. I know two teenagers who peed their pants during their first one. Sure, there have always been problems in our world. Yes, there was always a dark side. When Jesus was a baby, things were really bad, too. A king put a bounty on his head and killed all the boys even close to his age. That was obviously not a good future either. I guess each generation faces their own challenges but the challenges of this time seem terminal. If we can't do something about climate catastrophe, we'll all burn up. If truces can't be signed in the wars raging around us, nuclear war is upon us. My son is right. What kind of future is that for a child? But as a person of faith, I refuse to give up hope and my hope is that those of us who care about the future of children (and life itself!) will begin to claim our power. I am convinced each one of us is much more powerful than we think we are or are told we are. If we can overcome our fear and our inertia, and bring pressure to bear on the places we can create change as we apply that pressure, I think people like us can make big things happen. I'm the Christian who holds these words of Jesus tightly in my heart: "Truly I say to you: if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you." (Matthew 17:20-21) Yes, I think we can move the mountains of climate change, divisive politics, and greedy oligarchs! But we better hurry, because the next generation is coming, and it needs us to talk truth to power, push where we can push, and make the world a little safer for each new baby that's coming soon to a backpack near you.

I was searching for quiet amidst all the noise: Yet another tariff, more school violence, inflation, wars. The scorching heat of our record-breaking summer had broken. A shy coolness was in the air. I'd washed the sheets, and since I love the smell of sunshine, I took them outside to dry on the line. And that's when I saw her. A butterfly as big as a bird. Each time she floated into view, I began savoring my own precious time. Hanging up the sheets, I smiled at the thought of lying down that night and smelling the sunshine again. In the whisper of butterfly wings, I found quiet amidst all the noise

I was in the beautiful land of Canada this past week where I learned the power of friendship, and the price we pay for broken relationships.

It's hot. Oh, and it's humid, too! That must mean the dog-days of summer are here. I volunteer at the animal shelter and the dogs there are all wanting the same thing we are: to belong.  We all want to belong to a pack, it's instinctual and necessary. And we all want a leader who makes wise decisions and takes everyone into consideration. Because, if the unthinkable should actually happen, we want to know our pack has our back.

I was so depressed one day I couldn't even make a decision about whether or not to eat an egg. Then a shot rang out and I thought I was in a true crime drama. But what happened next reminded me that the world is still filled with magic.

Racism is ugly stuff. I thought we'd left it behind but I guess it was just hiding. I didn't know what racism was until I met it in the kitchen one day after a party my parents gave. The person targeted was someone I loved dearly. Remembering the story, even now, makes my face grow hot with anger and shame. 

Back in the 1960's our country was divided over racism. We'd long ago fought to end slavery but civil rights were still a dream away. This was especially true in the heart of coal country, up in the hills of West Virginia. This is a story about the time my Dad stood up to The Three Kings: who ruled the town, the mines, and the church. Since what's old is unfortunately new again, with all the executive orders dismantling DEI and wiping black contributions off government websites, it's a timely story for today.

I wish my Dad was still here so I could celebrate Father's Day with him just one more time! But this little story will have to suffice! When I was a kid, we didn't play organized sports. We roamed the neighborhood like feral cats. But we mostly behaved because, back then, any parent that caught you doing something wrong had permission to punish you any way they saw fit, whether they were your parents or not, so like I said, we mostly behaved. But there was this one time when things went very wrong. Thank goodness my Daddy figured it out!

Trump reinstated the death penalty by executive order in January 2025. As we reconsider capital punishment in America, this is a story worth hearing. It took place back in the 1940's. What happened in this story was so powerful it pushed my father into the ministry. It's a powerful reminder that family violence has multiple victims. Please share this story with people who need to hear it.

Memorial Day invites us to honor those who have given their all to protect our Freedom.  On a visit to the vet, a scared little Jack Russell mix has the opportunity to do just that. A magical story that just happens to be totally true.

Ever wonder what your legacy from this life will be? What have you done worth remembering? What will you leave behind that anyone else will want?  When my sister died this year these legacy questions began coming one after another. And then during a week at the beach, I saw something that helped me name exactly what I hope to leave behind when I'm gone. Now the only question is how to do that.

With all the chaos in America these days, it's good to remember that man is never really in charge. Our power is more of a delusion than a reality. And, I highly recommend a springtime walk as a way of scrubbing the soul from all the dirty grunge of our current political fiascoes. 

I'm so overwhelmed by all the stuff hitting the fan these days, all the weird goings on with American politics, I've needed a lot of naps. And, it's been fascinating to see what I become aware of when I wake up! 

What we plan our lives around matters. I'm the one that always seems to figure that out too late. My sister died recently of ovarian cancer. She taught me a lot about living by the way she chose to spend her time.

It seems like friendships are in short supply these days. Could you use a few more?

Nature is always modeling things for us. I had another chance to contemplate that this past week when four inches of snow fell and turned the Great Smokey Mountains into a fairyland. Always claim the uniqueness that makes you who you are! The world needs all of us to show up and come together.

If you've lost power in a storm or found yourself in a state of depression, you may have found yourself sleeping more. I've been sleepimg more after the difficult death of my sister. Winter is a time for rest. Perhaps tonight you should nourish yourself with a warm bowl of soup and a long winter nap. It's a beautiful way to take care of you!

Christmas is a celebration of a homeless birth. Here's another story about another homeless birth and some questions we all need to be asking about when babies will be entitled to a safe home.

Sometimes our vision, opinions, and judgment, becomes clouded. It's amazing what a fresh look at life can to help us see clearly again! As a new year begins, let's try looking at one another with a fresh set of eyes, and look for what we have in common instead of what divides us!