I’m struggling to ignore the inner voice that’s nudging me every time I join the cheers and tears of support for the refugees at the Ukrainian border. Why do I…
My mother wore grief like a backpack full of boulders. She could never quite figure out a way to lighten the burden. Her need to hold grief close influenced my…
I was raised Catholic. As I reflect back on my church life, I realize my parents checked all the boxes, baptism, mass on Sunday (most of the time) and grace…