Ladybugs are signs of good luck. I don't know why; it's just a universal belief. My mom believed it so much that she gave me every kind of ladybug memento that she ever found. She painted them on my sneakers, drew them in notes and cards - she even called me "ladybird" in moments of affection.

After she died, ladybugs appeared in the most unusual places and in situations and contexts that convinced me that she was still around somehow.

Lately, the Universe has sent me ladybugs through Internet photos. And they always seem to be hanging on to dandelion puffs, blowing in the wind.

That's what life has been like over the past nine years; it's not easy being a grown-up. Most of the time, it really stinks... no one to tell you the things that only your mother would say. No one to bind up your wounds, dry your tears, admonish your silliness, sing you to sleep.

In a real world you need that. And you need something to hold onto as the winds of life blow you about - sometimes like a desert gale, other times as a gentle breeze wafting you through - you need something to hang onto to carry you through it.

I'm hanging on to a dandelion puff, buffeted by winds of change encompassing my existence. There are two constants; the puff and the wind -- all else is transient and inconsequential.

That's what faith is like, though -- the luck of finding and holding on to the only solid certainty in the face of doubt and denial.

If you can hold on, it is a grace. If you let the wind carry you and hold on, you will land in fertile soil. And the dandelion puff will seed, you will find shade and nourishment.

And you continue to live.