Hallowed Ground for Humble People
Three months on from the deaths of my parents, a week out from my daughter’s wedding, I finally get back to this cloth tote bag,
Three months on from the deaths of my parents, a week out from my daughter’s wedding, I finally get back to this cloth tote bag,
“There are no good choices.” I remember saying that to my mother three years ago when we hit the first major decision point in what
I have loved Roz Chast’s cartoons since one of my college friends introduced me back in the 1980s to Chast’s quietly twisted portrayals of ordinary
Kindness may seem a weak virtue, hardly suited for battling the forces of darkness. For that battle, it’s true, one needs bigger artillery as well:
The year wanes in darkness, at least here in Michigan. Much snow and ice this year. It’s hard not to brood, especially after a year
If the kitchen was command central of her household, then these recipes, I realized, were the mission logs. What a jumble of memory among those
ln the section on the Holy Spirit, we profess our faith in “the resurrection of the body.” Familiar, precious words. A couple weeks ago it
at do you do when you are old and your friends die, and you are left with that aching, empty space where they used to