I like fire engines. For many reasons. First of all, I like their bright colors. Most fire engines are red, of course, but many are not red. Some are bright yellow, lime, orange, blue, dark green, black, white, and even purple. Whatever color fire engines are, they are bright.
Today let’s take a few minutes to reflect on the human hand, for it is truly amazing!
It’s May. And traditionally the month of May is devoted to Mary, the mother of Jesus. Today I would like to lead you in a reflection on Mary using a contemporary painting of the Annunciation when the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary. The painting might surprise or even shock you. Here it is:
I am no authority on grief. But over the years I have experienced grief and I have listened to the experiences of others. Based on that, here are a few thoughts on grief.
In honor of Earth Day, I’d like to tell you about an ash tree of my childhood. This reflection is based on my book When the Rain Speaks: Celebrating God’s Presence in Nature.
Reece, my grandnephew (age four), said to me the other day, “I have two tummies. One for regular food and one for dessert.” He goes on to tell me that often his regular tummy is full, but he almost always has room in his dessert tummy. He even points to the two tummies on his [...]
Spring is here—at least for those of us living in the northern hemisphere. And when I think of spring, I think of that old venerable tradition called “spring cleaning.” And spring cleaning makes me think about housework. I wonder: can housework play a role in our spiritual life? First, here’s my favorite definition of housework: [...]
This Easter I wish all of you (and myself!) these three Easter gifts: peace, joy, and surprise. I wish not only that we might receive these gifts personally, but also that we might bestow these gifts on others.
I was making retreat at St. Joseph Retreat Center in Cohasset, Massachusetts a few years back. As I walked in the yard that first day, I came upon this:
If you’ve ever been to Rome, you’ve probably been shocked by something you saw there. No, I’m not referring to their many highly-skilled pickpockets nor to their buses stuffed to the gills with human beings. No, I’m referring to the Roman practice of siesta.