When I left law school to be an at-home mom, I did what many people do when they wake up to the fact that they have neglected something cardinal: overcorrect. Burdened with guilt over neglecting my family, coupled with my desire to “save” my children—save them from our corrupt culture, save their eternal souls, save the way they think about life and this world—I fell prey to a mindset which put human hope for all this “salvation” into the means itself.
You could say I was living the crunchy con life, and I worshipped the gods of anti-chemical living, cooking-everything-from-scratch, homeschooling, no-hair-dyeing, Birkenstock- and long-skirt-wearing, organic eating, no-television-watching, and so on and so forth.
This brings me to the god of essential oils. Essential oils were just starting to take off when I was coming out of this period that I’ve called “Gospel Amnesia.” Although I don’t have direct experience with them, I recognized them right away as a new god in the natural polytheistic constellation.
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