She came to our events on dementia and faith. She believed we could do better.
What can we see with the light in our eyes?
I don’t have all the answers, but I have a few ideas.
Now it’s my turn to hold the memory of faith for her.
Here he was: prostrate, limp, a huge tube going down his windpipe.
A student of mine went to Tijuana to help. She found she could help the most simply by paying attention.
Growing up, I never heard a word about God laughing, joking, or doing anything for fun.
The poet’s essays are winsome and articulate, wide-ranging and intellectually rigorous.
In God's future, nothing is wasted.
A good pastor looks for the sacred within the ordinary.