“Listen” I whispered, wanting them to hear the waves breaking in the cove on the other side of the cottage. But in the quiet, we heard something else.Read More
“After a busy week, not just my body, but my soul cries out for rest—a Sabbath. Just as God took a day of rest after six days of creation, he invites us to set apart, to make holy, a day for rest.”Read More
As engaged couples prepare themselves for marriage, they look for advice for a rich and loving union. The best advice for engaged couples comes from Pope Francis himself in his apostolic exhortation “Amoris Laetitia” (“The Joy of Love”).Read More
Poet Chris Anderson speaks of the Examen in this way: “The light of grace is always shining, it’s always pouring down, through it’s refracted and scattered and easy to miss, and so one way to pray is to look back on the moments of our day and recall when we saw the light breaking through.”Read More
Spiritual writer, Kathleen Norris, in her book, "The Cloister Walk," shares her Holy Week schedule. It includes morning prayers, choir rehearsal, evening liturgy services but what I really noticed, was right smack in the middle of her afternoons, she wrote "NAP!!!" Yes, in capital letters and extra exclamation points.Read More
Poet John O’Donohue defined beauty as “that in the presence of which we feel more alive”. But not only that, beauty is a connection, that when we experience it, we feel a sense of love, the presence of God’s love.Read More
“What’s holding you back?” she asked over a turkey sandwich.
“I not sure if I believe in Transubstantiation.” I said solemnly over a sip of tomato soup.
“Ha!” she laughed, her mouth open, revealing the unchewed bite of sandwich in the side of her cheek. “That’s not it!” she said loudly drawing a few looks from the other patrons at the bistro.Read More
I think of their gifts for Christ: gold, a symbol of kingship; frankincense, a symbol of his priesthood; and myrrh, an embalming oil, a reminder of his death to come. A baby born to die.
“What gift would I give Jesus?” I wonder.Read More
Curled up with the book one evening, I listened to the sounds of my husband opening drawers and stirring pots in the kitchen. My soon to be 7-year-old, came over for a snuggle. He grasped the book from my hands as he curled into my lap. I had just started the first story and my son read to me in his little voice sounding not unlike a Peanuts character. I stroked his hair as he rubbed his foot against mine.Read More
Hushed whispers echoed around me as tourists watched through the bars of Islip Chapel in Westminster Abbey where I knelt before an Anglican priest inside. Her words of prayer dropped on me like love.Read More
When I started attending St. James Cathedral in Seattle 11 years ago, I said to a friend, “St. James? Which one is he again?”
“He’s one of the Sons of Thunder!” she said, a little too loudly with a sort of spirited superhero look on her face.
I nearly spit out the double tall vanilla latte I was sipping, doubling over with laughter. “Sons of Thunder?” I asked.Read More