When the girls talk of dreams and regrets, love and heartbreak, I almost feel like I’m hearing myself and these conversations are merely ghosts — whispers of my longing and loss that have refused to go into the night and be at final rest. When the girls talk about childhoods that shape
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I love your strong will and your meek nature, I love how you look at your things like they’re all that matter. I love the way you call for us, (and even the times when you demand instead of ask). I love how you play the Big Boss and the Little Lady,
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There we are in the dark and cold bedroom; it’s time for us to retreat to our private thoughts and personal space that will be very frequently invaded by random requests, burning questions that absolutely require answers right there and then, the occasional need to pee again, and for sure,
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A chance encounter at Mass yesterday brought me diving to my knees in the pews, confessing my anxiety and fears that within minutes, I’ll come face to face with a friend from the past. The chance encounter is with a mutual acquaintance who informed that my “friend from the past”
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“Let’s ask Jesus to help us find Timothy. We ask Jesus to help us look at the right places, and to open our eyes to see clearly where Timothy is,” I prayed with Matthew this morning at Church of Christ the King. With some hesitation, I continued, “If it is
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11 years ago today, I was fasting at this time, hungry but excited, exhausted but thrilled. Why the range of emotions? Because in half a day’s time, I would step into a baptismal font for the happiest experience of my life. Today is my 11th birthday as a Catholic, and it
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