For a few years after college I was part of a local production of Godspell that toured all over Rhode Island performing the show in various churches and venues.
It is still very, very cold in New England.
In the days leading up to the start of school I had several conversations with my son Sam and all of them started the same: “Mom, I’m scared to start first grade.”
Say yes like John. Show up like Fran. Be brave. Be bold. Be loved.
I live in Newport, Rhode Island where there is a small but mighty Irish population that has been celebrating Saint Patrick’s Day with vigor for 65 years.
If I were writing this last year I don’t even think I would have paid any attention to this part of Nicholas’ story. I’m not sure the word would have registered in my brain. But this year? Hearing of a young boy losing both his parents to an uncontrolled illness was hard to ignore.
As this article is being written, I am on the 20th day being home with my husband, two small children, and my mother.
I am the oldest of three children in my family. My two sisters are my best friends, though for many years before I came to see them that way they were also my worst enemies.
Welp, I turned into a priest-mom-Easter-morning-psycho.I mean, Christ is Risen, right? Might as well go crazy on your family.
Editor’s Note: I attended my diocesan camp as a young child, rediscovered God’s presence in my life at that camp as a nineteen-year-old and first felt […]