A very long time passed between the day we buried my father and the installation of a headstone on his grave, for a variety of […]
As a family gathers around the baptismal font, the words asked of the godparents are some of the most poignant queries. “Will you be responsible […]
Last night my husband and I went to see the movie based on Fred Roger’s ministry, Won’t You Be My Neighbor. In the 1980s, his show […]
How would we know love, true love, without its companion death?
Your screaming toddler just might save your soul.
Before my mom died, I faced Lent with a kind of calculated resolve. Now the season opens up differently for me, into a sort of invitation.
The day will come when death slaps my kids in the face. When it does, I want them to remember all our Ash Wednesdays.
My hope is that–with one eye on my prayer book, and the other on the compost heap–I can come to respect the work death does for us… the life it enables to take root.