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“You talk too much,” my mother said, one arm on the steering wheel, the other holding the rim of the window. “People just aren’t interested.” Wind smeared…
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In the winter, the barn doors stick. It’s as though the ground grows up and grabs the bottoms, but it’s the sun melting snow on the roof and the water…
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Even though we're done with Christmas, I'm stuck back on the story when Gabriel told Mary she was favored of God. He said, "Greetings, O favored one, the…
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As the Northern Hemisphere pitches towards the dark time, we hang lights on trees inside and outside our houses. I think about how Jesus said, “I am the…
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“Put not your trust in princes, in a son of man, in whom there is no salvation” (Ps. 146:3). This rebukes my obsession with politics, as I watch the…
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The day after Ruth Bader Ginsberg died, I joined a StoryCorps One Small Step conversation while sitting in my writing chair, my books and sunshine behind…
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The barn swallows swooped over the field as if they were telling us where Little Bird was. Dutifully Bruce looked for him, knowing he’d survived the…
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“Redeemed humanity is still young; it has hardly come to its full strength. But already there is joy enough in the little finger of a great saint such as…
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“Could you send us an article?” Andrew Sullivan, the editor of the New Republic asked in a phone call. He was responding to a letter about how as a…
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Fifty years ago, I halted my horse by the mandrakes, far from the house, so my parents would not hear my sobs. I stepped out of the saddle and sat on a…