The world is heavy with sorrow right now.This is not a season that requires take much imagination to ponder Jesus’s suffering on the cross.
The gospel lesson assigned for today’s Feast of Saint Luke the Evangelist has one of my favorite scripture moments.
Maybe it’s the pandemic talking, but the spicy chicken sandwich from Popeye’s is tears-to-the-eyes good. I tried it once and now I’ve had it…more than once.
I’m making another king cake for the Conversion of Saint Paul. The epiphanies will keep coming, whether by guiding star or blinding light or daily bread.
A scene from that quirky 1993 movie Household Saints had been on my mind, and I found myself watching well beyond the part I intended to revisit.
“Mama, will your bottom just keep getting bigger and bigger until the baby gets here?”
There’s going to be a brother in our house. The two big sisters, upon learning we are expecting a boy, spent nearly five minutes in anguish before returning to delightful anticipation of Baby.
The plague hit our family vacation hard this summer. It was a punishing stomach bug that took down young and old and came back for more.
There were exactly two snowballs in my south Louisiana childhood, and they didn’t fall from the sky in Baton Rouge. They rode down from Ohio on the side of our neighbor’s station wagon, and took their shape when she scooped them and gave them to wide-eyed children who had never seen snow.
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 […]