The kids have grown but the washing machine has not. Loads fill more quickly than in the days before hormone body odors kicked in.
No, it isn’t just us in modern times—for siblings in the Bible, there’s usually drama.
I have my share of impulsive freak-outs when I glance at the couch from the kitchen and see my tween daughters in their favorite spots staring at their screens again.
I hope Clare of Assisi and her Poor Ladies embraced the gift of humor as much as they did poverty, charity and humility.
Autumn is a firstborn daughter, like me, and sixth months my senior. Unlike me, her dad—an artist, teacher and retired cross country coach—is Navajo (Diné).
In the Before Times I had an awkward relationship with my at-home Book of Common Prayer.
“It’s not a happily-ever-after story,” said my elder daughter Ida when asked what she thought of the new Little Women movie.
Last month I interviewed Water Protector Sierra Asamoa-Tutu and Episcopal priest John Floberg, both of whom served at Standing Rock. In their own words, here’s what they shared about where things stand with Standing Rock.
Three springs ago the Martin family moved in across the street. Later that summer Isra Hatel, who lives three doors down, called me. She told a story that wasn’t actually new, though I tried to listen as if it had been.
I’m a carpenter’s daughter. My father built the suburban Chicago house of my childhood with his own hands in the evenings after working his for-pay job. Suburban sprawl put food on my table and paid half my college tuition where in environmental science classes I was taught about its horrors.