Faith at Home

My son stands in the center of his bedroom, wailing to the heavens while his sleepy brothers tuck into bunk beds. Tonight, there has been no time for stories, since the family party ran late. But I hadn't expected bedtime tears, so I scramble for a consolation prize.

The first thing I noticed about our parish was the music. Everyone sang.

What if the best thing for us to do during Advent is not more, but less?

Each Christmas, my youngest brother makes a photo calendar for our extended family. Thanks to the ease of photo websites and pre-made templates, it’s an easy task to drop pictures into each month of the year — but it’s become one of our favorite gifts to receive.

My husband and I have a stubborn, unresolved argument in our marriage: What would we do if we won the lottery?

When I was a new parent, I assumed love meant protection.

I found the lump at the end of Lent.
My husband was out of town, and I was swamped with work and caring for our five kids. Never one to do a regular self-check (more likely to resolve to “do it next month”), I can’t remember exactly how or when I noticed the small lump in my breast — except that it was obvious once I did.

Remember when we said we'd never take the Eucharist for granted again? When we had to watch Mass online or from cars in the church parking lot? When every part of parish life -- from faith formation classes to Bible studies to doughnuts on Sundays -- changed overnight?