ESSAYS
Almost Heaven
James doesn’t want to go to Mass. At two and a half he doesn’t want to do most things, even the things he actually does want to do. “I not want to go to CHURCH!” His words start in a growl and end in a scream that echoes down my spine.What do I say to…
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A New Decade Dawns: Celebrating a Child’s Birthday with the Weight of the World
The house is quiet, except for the clothes thumping in the dryer. Everyone is sleeping as we approach the midnight hour. The decorations are up. The friend party has been celebrated, and the family party is next. Cakes are ordered, recipes are chosen, groceries are purchased, gifts are wrapped. In another half hour, our son…
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Grandmothers, Saints, and Group Chats: The Women Who Mother Us Through Motherhood
As a disciple of Jesus and a mother, I am surrounded by a cloud of biblical witnesses who, as mothers like me, lead me to the author and perfecter of faith (cf Hebrews 12:1). An undertaking as momentous as motherhood must be a team sport. Not only is the necessity of community and connection for…
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Dear Neighbor: I Know You Don’t Want Me Here
The leaves fell from the sentinel-like silver maple trees that lined our streets. What were they guarding exactly? I’m not sure. But I loved them the second I saw them. November arrived, and with it, the promise of snow. Everyone retreated inside their homes while we, the new kids on the block, looked out the…
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When We Have No Answers, Only Presence
I run down the stairs to our living room after bedtime with hot, angry tears caught in the back of my throat, purposely stepping on all of the forbidden creaky spots—a personal act of defiance. I barge into the room where my husband Paddy is alone and planted in the middle of the floor. We…
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Marrow: The Memory in Our Bones
My mother is almost 80 years old. She still remembers her brothers. One dear child she held in her arms. She remembered his face. A beautiful child. He died at three weeks, and though she doesn’t remember why, I suspect it may have been the holes in the shack in which they all lived, an…
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Forget the Highlight Reel: We’ve Got To Go Through It
In a few weeks, the college-aged young adults return home. Some are simply sleeping here for a few nights before making a cameo appearance at the dinner table in between groomsmen duties and friend visits. Another is crashing here for two weeks before a summer-long internship, and another has staked her claim in the empty…
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The Rising Dough of Motherhood
One Sunday morning, I woke up motivated. Mass at our parish is at 10:30, and with two toddlers, we can squeeze in almost an entire day before then, so after coffee was poured, muffins were distributed, and grapefruit was segmented, I started to make a loaf of bread to serve with dinner so it could…
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Mothers, Daughters, and Their Stories of Courage
I rise before the sun each day, before anyone else in the house wakes. I pour the first cup of hot coffee and grab a blanket to greet the morning on the porch. Beside me lie my Bible, pen and journal, and whatever devotional or book of poetry I’m reading. My spirit is soothed by…
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Am I Doing This Right? Crosses, Questions, and Awe in Creation
“What’s that?” my 5-year-old asks, pointing to a ceramic cross above the bedroom door at my parents’ house as I lie down next to him to help him fall asleep. “It’s a cross,” I reply matter-of-factly, with a pang of guilt that I apparently haven’t done a good enough job at catechizing my child for…
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Too Big to Be Told: Parenting Young Adults
Even when they were small, I was nervous that time would march relentlessly on and I would find myself where I am today: my kids ready to fly the coop and me, unready. This April, a tall, sincere, young man asked for my daughter’s hand. My social media went frenzied, and everyone asked how I…
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Letting Go of My Own Way
My teenage son finally gave in to the sleep that he so badly needed, literally collapsing onto his bedroom floor while it was still light out. As the morning alarms went off, I crept to his room and could see he was stirring. A sense of relief washed over me like those early days when…
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