Last week, a text arrived from an old friend. “Thank you for your forgiveness,” it began.

Radical change doesn’t always happen in a flash. It can arrive as a whisper, dropping hints over the years of something new to come.

When I was in college, I studied in Spain for a year. Arriving back on campus, I needed a place to live. Luckily, one of my besties from high school offered me space in her apartment, along with three of her friends.

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.

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!

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?

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.