I never saw it coming: The moment that changed everything.

When I woke up on that crisp Minnesota morning in the fall of 2014, it was a day like any other: ordinary, unremarkable. I grabbed my coffee, took a shower, brushed my teeth. I barely noticed my feet beneath me – or the vibrant leaves from our ancient maple tree in a continual free fall, offering an unspoken message on how to let go.

The space between false hope and false hopelessness is a chasm.

When I worked to find adoptive and permanent families for teens in foster care, I’d often hear from other child welfare workers, “You’re giving the kids false hope.”

It was always said as a bad thing, as if carefully involving teens in their own permanency planning was unhelpful, unreasonable, or in some way detrimental to their mental health.

Transformation is rarely easy.

I once spent a few summers helping to shepherd monarch caterpillars into butterflies for release, an undertaking that’s both astonishing and beautiful: The insatiable caterpillar munches loudly on milkweed leaves, readying itself for metamorphosis. After a couple of hungry weeks – shedding its skin as it grows exponentially – the arthropod finds a quiet spot, hangs upside down, and essentially digests itself, becoming soupy goo.

It’s probably safe to say that many people find this a relatable feeling these days…

Sometimes, there comes a moment when you realize the earth has shifted on its axis, and your life will never be the same.

Memories flood in…

Me, age 6, one big shoe in each hand, carrying the kicks to my dad as we played Shoe Store, a fantastical game of make-believe.

“Would you like to buy some shoes?” I’d ask my dad, imitating a salesperson.

It began with a dream.

“What if we started our own nonprofit?” I asked my colleague and friend Michelle. I was sitting on my desk, legs dangling, chowing down on a turkey sandwich.

We had about two years left on a five-year federal project; the goal was to find adoptive and permanent families for Minnesota teens under state guardianship. It was time to start thinking about what came next.

Sometimes other people have faith in you, before you have faith in yourself.

The description for the class recommended wearing loose-fitting clothing.

But when I arrived, I saw that most of the students sported white jackets tied at the waist and wide drawstring pants – the traditional karate uniform, or gi.

“Sometimes, stepping back can help us move forward. That’s why I want to create a life book with you,” I said to 15-year-old Jamie.

Jamie sighed. She’d been in the foster care system for six years, didn’t have a life book yet, and didn’t really want one. In fact, she didn’t really want an adoptive family, either, if we’re being honest – so I had my work cut out for me.

“Everything okay?” the man behind the bar asks.

I’m standing just inside the doorway, and it crosses my mind that this guy must not see a lot of people that look like me enter his establishment. Maybe he thinks I’m having car trouble?

When you feel anger arise, ask yourself: What feels unfair?

This helpful exercise can give insight into your relationship with anger and frustration, and it may come in handy over the next few months.

Mars, the cosmic gas pedal, has turned retrograde (Rx) in Gemini, the sign associated with thinking, communicating, and information. Mars will be Rx until January 12, 2023!

I’m incredibly honored to have an article published in the latest edition of The Career Astrologer magazine, which is the quarterly journal of the Organization for Professional Astrology!

There’s an ancient Taoist parable about a farmer*, which goes something like this:

Once upon a time, a farmer – who earned his livelihood with the help of his horse – found that the horse had gone missing.

The neighbors felt sorry for him, and offered condolences, “Oh no! Your horse ran away – what bad luck!”

The farmer, who had gained some wisdom in his years, replied, “Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows?”

“I’m going to go collect my parts.”

My wife taught me this phrase. We tend to offer it up whenever we’re feeling like our emotional bits and pieces have been strewn about – when we’re scattered or flustered, and just need a moment to gather ourselves.

Just got an unexpected medical diagnosis? Roof leaking? Or maybe ten little things have been irritating you today?

Sounds to me like you might need to go collect your parts.

Rex had a good heart.

Physically, sure: Strong and young, he was on the high school track team and could run and run. Boundless energy, that kid.

But my nephew’s heart was more than just strong; it was good. Rex was compassionate and liked helping people.

Sometimes small steps lead to big ones.

For many people, life has been challenging – the pandemic, the climate crisis, war, and much more. As we each climb a personal mountain, the question for many is: How can peace be found amidst the chaos? Do beauty and discovery arrive in the slow process of the ascent… or are they achieved by suddenly reaching the summit?

I’d been meeting with 16-year-old Hannah* for a couple of months when she finally told me the reason she didn’t want to be adopted.
As an adoption recruiter** – Hannah and her three siblings had been in foster care for eight years – it wasn’t uncommon to hear kids say that they weren’t interested in adoption. Moving around so much, and being let down over and over… well, it’s heartbreaking, to say the least. And when you’re a young person, and you allow yourself to trust – and then that trust gets broken, again and again – it can be hard to see a path forward.
For teens in foster care, it's like the heart is a boomerang: tossed out there, just waiting for the day it returns.

Several years back, a friend of mine had the ridiculous and lovely idea to gather our pals, make individual pieces of crop art, and submit our creations to the Minnesota State Fair.

I’m guessing your first question here is, “Jen, what the heck is crop art??”

To quote Wikipedia, “Crop art is an environmental art practice using plants and seeds in the landscape to create statements, marks and/or images.”

If you knew me well, you probably wouldn’t think of me as someone with a yen for turning grain into craftwork…

I touch the cool doorknob and turn the handle. The door opens and I pause on the outside stoop for a moment, then slowly step down the stairs – one, two, three. I look up and feel the sun warm my face. The soft spring breeze whispers, and the birds sound happy. I slowly, carefully place one foot in front of the other, down the little walkway. Arriving at the sidewalk, I turn and continue on. I pick up the pace, a little faster now. There is a pleasant, smooth sound to my thick-soled Hoka sneakers, squishy rubber against the hard pavement. Pat-pat-pat, steady I go, hearing each footfall.

When I think of the analytical sign of Virgo, what often comes to mind is the word discernment. And I’m reminded of a story, told to me by two teen siblings I once knew. It's an appropriate tale for the Full Moon, taking place at 27 degrees Virgo on Friday, March 18, 2022 (2:17am CT).

In my work finding adoptive families for teens in foster care*, I worked with many sibling groups over the years, and heard many stories. But this one has really stuck with me.

Although Rex died in November of 2019, his heart still beats.

My 17-year-old nephew loved helping people, so after his unexpected and tragic passing, arrangements were made for organ and tissue recovery. My brother and Rex’s mom and siblings wanted to take their devastating loss and create something meaningful; the hope was that their decision would help dozens of people go on living.

It was one last contribution from the boy who was, fittingly, a Life Scout – the second-highest rank, a step below Eagle Scout – and it was offered, without hesitation, to the collective.

Daniel Smith Jr.*, age 15, was clear in telling me that he didn’t want an adoptive family.

This wasn’t unusual. Nearly every teenager I worked with – removed from birth parents, under guardianship of the State, and living within the foster care system – said this to me at some point in our work together.

To most folks not involved in the day-to-day realm of working with teens in foster care, I realize that this might sound strange.

But it really wasn’t.