“He takes her pain into his hands.” Wanting to pay attention—in that deepest way that Simone Weil calls us to —I have been reading a novel by Eugene Vodolazkin, set...
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There is a day when the road neither comes nor goes, and the way is not a way but a place. — Wendell Berry Poetry is mystery. Sometimes we know,...
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The question of my life. While I have spent years thinking about life in the world with my laptop open before me, this past year has been one in which...
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Tacos and tortillas are easy. And adios is like that. But what about las golondrinas? and Sacramento? Having grown up in California, I began to learn Spanish in the second...
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“Beyond the door, there’s peace, I’m sure And I know there’ll be no more tears in heaven” There are mysteries in this life, questions with answers that are hard to...
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In his Requiem for a Nun, the poet William Faulkner somberly reminds us that “the past is never dead. It’s not even past.” The persons and events of generations past...
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