Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church

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Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of the Church

The first time Mary became part of my faith, I was a sleep-deprived new mother. I hadn’t grown up Catholic and converted just a year before my son joined our family. As I nursed him in a darkened room, in the middle of the night, I realized that Mary had fed Jesus just like this. I found this comforting as I looked down at my son, his long eyelashes wet with tears from calling to me in the dark, and prayed that he too would know her Son.

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Struggling with anger? God gives you the tools you need

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Struggling with anger? God gives you the tools you need

As a kid growing up in Southern California, I’d pull out the little, red portable record player from under my bed and play one of my favorite records, Music Machine. This Christian record for kids had catchy songs about the fruits of the Holy Spirit. I can still remember all the words to songs about kindness, patience, and joy, but the song on self-control really struck a chord with me.

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Holy Spirit Still Breathes Fire

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Holy Spirit Still Breathes Fire

In the coloring books and flannelgraphs of my childhood, the disciples of Pentecost stood erect with red teardrops upon their heads. They looked like rows of lit matches. My religion teacher wore her hair in a low bun that covered her ears and told us that on Pentecost, the Holy Spirit arrived like a violent wind. The rest of the class was wondering if she actually had ears under that black hair, but I was wondering how those flames stayed lit. Wouldn’t they blow out?

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Book Review: MFK Fisher's Consider the Oyster

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Book Review: MFK Fisher's Consider the Oyster

Yet even without this photograph, I would have had a similar mental picture of MFK Fisher simply by her voice in, Consider the Oyster, her collection of essays on, you guessed it, the subject of oysters. I would have imagined her in pearls with a martini in her hand describing her recipes of oyster- or ---in a plummy diction reminiscent of Martha Stewart before jail, before she became friends with Snoop Dogg and an old Hollywood actress that graced the films for the 30’s or 40’s. Her accent, of course, would be neither British or American in origin, but somewhere that hovers over the Atlantic for those who can afford to spend time in both places frequently enough.

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I Know How I'll Die

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I Know How I'll Die

It starts with a tinge under my skin. An itch begging to be scratched. I find my pulse there, contracting, growing. I dare not touch it. I know it will embed itself under my fingernails, spreading to everything I touch, infecting my eyes, my mouth, the open spaces of my body, eventually seeping into my bloodstream, then to my heart, until… it stops beating, stops throbbing, stops breaking.

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