Threshold Moments
Dear Saint Mary’s Friends,
May and June have been busy months, full of the wonderful occasions that mark this time of year. In mid-May, we celebrated the accomplishments of our graduating seniors and sent them out into the world with the anticipated pomp and circumstance—as well as with enduring Saint Mary’s traditions like the opening of the circle, handprints on the walls in the tunnels, tours of the Le Mans bell tower, and much more. And just a few weeks later, we welcomed alumnae—the 0s and 5s—for Reunion weekend.
As I’ve reflected on these two events, I’ve been struck by a simple fact: Commencement is one of a handful of moments in life when people are aware that they are entering the unknown. After the relative security of their years at the College, graduates quite literally step into new worlds, and most of what they will encounter is hidden as they cross the threshold and accept their degrees. Many take jobs and build lives in new places or begin graduate programs at new universities. We send them out prepared to begin and to begin again. Further along life’s continuum, alumnae returning to the College for Reunion have the opportunity to reflect not only on their time here, but also on the expected and unexpected avenues their lives have taken and the turning points that have defined their adult years.
Occasions like Commencement and Reunion can also be invitations to pay attention to other “threshold moments” in our lives: conspicuous ones like marriages, moves, births, and deaths as well as less foreseeable ones involving changes in our personal or professional lives. A few months ago, my husband and I had one of those unanticipated threshold moments, and we were reminded about the magic that can happen when you remain open to the unplanned turns in life.
For some background, our youngest daughter lives in Kyiv, where she is the Ukraine Bureau Chief for The Washington Post. She has spent several years sharing with us moving stories about Ukrainian soldiers and their pets—pets that have been found in places torn up by violence and taken in by these servicemen and women whose lives have also been upended by war. The soldiers give the dogs and cats new homes in their battalions, and they find themselves nurtured in turn by these loyal creatures. In fact, our daughter recently published a story about how adopting displaced and abandoned dogs has become something of a national duty in Ukraine. Both soldiers and ordinary citizens have made a commitment to life in a place that has been ravaged by death—simply by loving and offering security to these innocent war victims who have come into their lives unexpectedly.
Back in January, we learned from our daughter about another abandoned puppy, this one rescued from Syria by a reporter-friend just after the fall of the Assad regime. For several days, our family text thread was filled with photos and videos of the dog as he crossed the border to Lebanon, met other dogs to play for the first time, and was given his earliest veterinary care. As much as we had enjoyed watching this puppy’s sweet liberation story, we frankly were not at all prepared for our daughter’s question: “Mom and Dad, would you ever adopt him?” We thought it would be easy to say no, and we tried—but failed—to talk each other out of it. While we would never have considered, at this busy time of life, going to our local shelter to look for a dog, we couldn’t shake the impression that this dog was looking for us. In fact, in all those photos, he seemed to be looking right at us—with a very direct and soulful gaze we have come to know and love.
And so, to our surprise, we found ourselves arranging to fly our puppy Django (a 19-breed mutt we named after the great jazz guitarist Django Reinhardt) from Beirut to Frankfurt and from Frankfurt to Washington DC, where we picked him up after a 24-hour quarantine. We drove him all the way back to South Bend that day, and we haven’t looked back. He barks at other dogs—and sometimes at runners and bicyclists. He pukes in the car. He complicates our travel. And he has definitely made life more stressful for our cats—Brigitte Bardot and Miss Peggy Lee. But all that will work itself out. He has also thoroughly delighted us in so many ways, and we can no longer imagine life without him. He is perfect. In fact, one of his nicknames is “Mr. Perfect”!
Yes, Django was an unforeseen gift in this season of our lives, but this recent season of Commencement and Reunion offered a timely reminder that in the midst of planning and structuring and organizing our lives, we can always stay open to embracing the unexpected. You never know what may await you when you cross a threshold.
June 30, 2025