On Being an ArtSci (Artsy) Woman

Growing up, I was taught to believe certain things were exemplary — a rigorous liberal arts education, regular exercise, PBS, well-made clothing, Christianity, American democracy and culture, homemade meals, museums, fresh air, dogs, friends, books, gardens, and FFO (for family only) real talk. I still value much of what I was raised to believe was good, with the most distinct exception of Christianity.

Shortly before my mom died at the experienced, but not at all old, age of 56, she told me she wanted my children to inherit from her a sense of aesthetics. She wanted them to be able to recognize, create, and appreciate beauty. While she was in hospice, Mom maintained a beautiful home and made a point of getting dressed every day. She wore pressed blouses and skirts while sitting on her immaculately upholstered furniture to knit adorable garments for the grandchildren she would never meet.

One afternoon as we sat outside knitting on her balcony, she told me some of her friends were pressuring her to accept Jesus Christ as her Lord and Savior, lest she risk eternal torment after she passed away. She said she had doubted basic Christian beliefs about eternal life as a child, and, as she approached death, could not think of a reason to profess a faith in the salvific powers of Jesus. She did not want to spend eternity with a God who sent people who did not believe in him to hell. I understood. At the time, I held a bachelor of arts in religious studies and a Master of Divinity. I was serving as a hospital chaplain. I agreed with her.