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“Can we get a cat after Truman?” my three-and-a-half-year-old asked me last week. Truman, our rambunctious hound dog, is only seven. Barely middle aged. I paused. “What do you mean?” “You know, after he’s…gone. Can we get a cat next?” she asked, with the sincerity of a preschooler. I’m amazed that my no-longer-toddler already has some concept of death. She has lost a grandparent. She has spent enough time visiting her grammy’s assisted living that she surely has some sense o

As the liturgical year draws to a close and we enter these twin feasts of All Saints and All Souls, I tend to think on my loved ones who...

During Holy Week 2021, I participated from a distance in my parish’s annual Stations of the Cross service. Afterwards, I found myself...

Today's Readings For as long as I can remember, my parents taught my siblings and I that God entrusted a Guardian Angel for each of us...

As a non-Catholic Christian, it wasn’t until my thirties that I realized I’d been searching for Advent my entire life. Even as the child...