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 […]