It’s been less than a year since our family’s returned to St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, so there are still surprises in the liturgical calendar. “Please wear red on Pentecost,” invited Father Randall. I owned nothing red except for a waffle-knit funnel-neck shirt that obviously screamed fall even though the weather was basically expected to be just that.
My mom texted a picture to all seven of us kids at the end of August after Nathan, my youngest brother and twenty years my junior, left for his freshman year of college. “In the first week of empty nesting we found an empty nest!” she wrote.
Due to procrastination and a lack of communication I was anxious and alone on an otherwise serene night. The anxiety became anger and then in my anger, I sinned.
One early May Saturday my spouse and I helped plant trees in the Southtown area of Grand Rapids, Michigan. The
