The presence of absence: Grieving and believing
Without the rudder of memory, my father seemed adrift in a tiny boat on a wild, infinite sea, yet unconcerned with finding a way back to shore.
Without the rudder of memory, my father seemed adrift in a tiny boat on a wild, infinite sea, yet unconcerned with finding a way back to shore.
Our granddaughter's uncertainty about confirmation was typical and appropriate. After eight months of class, though, she told me she had decided to declare her faith.