While in college, one of the best parts about my summertime subway commute to work was the 50 minutes of uninterrupted reading it afforded me every day. To stave off any potential conversations, I always boarded the train with my book in hand, head down.
I went to seminary as a single, young woman in my mid-twenties after living overseas in Tanzania for three years.
We were standing in front of an overflowing trash can in the neighborhood “fast-food chicken” franchise. It took me a moment to register my son asking me the question. I’d been daydreaming and lost in thought.
Ever since I returned to the church in my twenties, I have been inspired by the Blessed Virgin Mary.
Our daughter lost her first tooth a few weeks ago. As I stared into that gaping hole in her mouth, I did the thing where you internally tear up and think, ‘where did my little baby go?’ in that wistful, nostalgic way. ‘It was only yesterday that I was holding her in my arms!’
Terrified women share an experience with men they trust, but the men don’t believe them. They say the women are lying. One of these women in particular is publicly shamed and labeled with the slanderous reputation of being a prostitute.
In the retelling of this story in Acts chapter one, after Jesus ascends, the disciples are staring up towards the heavens and two men in white robes appear. They ask the disciples:“Why do you stand looking up towards heaven?”
Today is the feast of Saint Philip and Saint James, apostles with ambiguous storylines and confusingly common names.
If you’re anything like me, you might have still found scraps of Christmas lying around when you were getting ready to help your children with a school Valentine’s Day celebration. It’s still cold in most parts of the country, and we might still feel a bit of a holiday hangover when we’re not quite sure what to do with ourselves in the days following the Feast of the Epiphany.
‘They forgot to bring Joseph!’ I frantically whispered to one of the ushers last Christmas Eve