A reflection on music, memory, and the quiet safety of a mother’s love Sometimes a movie does more than tell a story. Sometimes it reaches down into a place you did not even realize was still living inside you. That is what happened to me while watching Song Sung Blue. I expected a film about music, … Read more
A Shoreline, a Fire, and a Voice We Know They had gone back to what they knew. Boats. Nets. The long patience of a night with nothing to show for it. After everything, the Cross, after the empty tomb, after whispers of seeing Him alive. Still the disciples are back on the water. It feels … Read more
The Bell on the Door There used to be a bell. Not a notification ping. Not a barcode scanner chirp. A bell—hung loosely above a wooden door that opened with resistance, like it knew something sacred was about to happen. You stepped in, and before your eyes adjusted to the dimness between flour sacks and … Read more
The Silence No One Prepares You For (written especially for my brother and sister-in-law, but also for all who have experienced miscarriage and infant loss) There are losses that the world knows how to acknowledge. And then there are losses it does not. Miscarriage and infant loss often fall into that second category—not because they … Read more
A Reflection on John 20:19-31 and St. Thomas Didymus The Door Was Locked The Gospel tells us the doors were locked. Fear has a way of doing that—closing things, narrowing space, reducing the world to what feels manageable. In John 20:19-31, the disciples are not gathered in triumph. They are gathered in uncertainty, behind barriers, … Read more
“Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when He appears we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is.” — 1 John 3:2 The Old Pots of Fulton Sheen Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen once gave a homily in which … Read more
Arguably the greatest English-language poet of the 20th Century, T.S. Eliot, wrote, with brutal realism, in his poem “East Coker,” The wounded surgeon plies the steelThat questions the distempered part;Beneath the bleeding hands we feelThe sharp compassion of the healer’s artResolving the enigma of the fever chart. A devout Anglican, Eliot surely would have known … Read more
