I nearly skipped the liturgy. I almost didn’t head out into the cold night. After two full and exhausting days at the Festival of Faith and Writing in Grand Rapids, Michigan, I wasn’t sure if I had any energy to interact with another person, especially any of my literary heroes. Yet, I made my…
our bodies make lines and our hearts beat repent, repent make us more honest in forty days conversion time prepare us, Mystery, for an eternity with you, true Love create in us clean hearts draw us closer– Love, we are yours You are our heartbeat You are our way help us fast, pray lines of…
So faith, hope, love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love. ~ 1 Corinthians 13:13 The two narratives twist together when the waters churn and the fears rise, when the winds blow and doubts intensify, when the flames destroy and homes burn to ash. Every surrender surfaces acts of courage and love. Community…
Last summer my partner and I spent a month in Ireland. Below is a reflection I wrote after climbing Croagh Patrick, an ancient pilgrimage site where St. Patrick was said to have fasted for 40 days in the 5th century. Up the holy mountain. Following a stream of stones and prayers into the mist. The…
i’d like a compass with you at the north and my sisters in the west i’ll keep it in my pocket and take it out for direction when i can’t remember the skin i’m in or the rhythm of my own song to the south are the mountains, pink rhododendrons and sweet tea…
Here we are! The Lenten journey is ending and it is time to emerge from the desert and enter into the Paschal mystery. Holy Week has arrived! Here’s a quick background on these sacred days in the Church year: For your prayer and mediation this week, I’d like to share with you a…
An old building in disrepair, collapsing toward the ground. A rusting, defective car, stuck in layers of mud. Shattered glass. Melting candle. Cracked eggshells. Chipped ceramics. The sight of the simplest crack in a sidewalk can still my body, stun my soul. The colors and textures of a simple, broken branch can inspire poetry. It may…
Most days, our schedules are clogged with avoidance: We’d rather ignore the inevitable smudge of human decay. This morning though, Ash Wednesday, we step into lines and confront the truth of pain. We allow strangers to mark us with a message of paradox. Remember, you are dust. To dust you will return….
This is a complicated world, but not for the sake of trying. How do we respond? What is it that I have done? Have I tried to lay in the long grass, to wake early and see my breath? When did I last wait to hear, Not answer, not voice,…
Red broth, steaming soup, vegetables just picked, now my lunch; I slurp life in. Phone rings Sister Laura on the line, “Sister Rita is dying. I’ll put the phone to her ear. Say what you’d like. She can’t talk, won’t respond. Say your good-bye.” A pause. My lungs expand, mind races, I search my heart…
You must be logged in to post a comment.