The prayer of a mother runs like a constant flow between her heart and the Lord. It is like blood streaming through the ventricles of the heart, so does a mother’s prayer connect her to the heart of Jesus. It’s a deep and profound prayer; one of surrender and...
I’m often heard saying that I am a professional at the younger years of parenting. Give me a baby to rock, a diaper to change, a toddler to play puzzles with, a book to read. These I can do with my eyes shut. The older years, though: Phew! They are not for the faint...
It’s been almost 72 hours since I dropped him off at the airport and we are all still alive. Survival is necessary. Patience is prudent and a good dose of humility never hurts the cause! I made myself a goal of keeping my patience this time around. As much as I miss...
I love to be loved. I love knowing my husband loves me, my children love me and my friends love me. I love the feeling of intimacy and security being loved brings. Lately, I have noticed myself needing that love a little too much. I have noticed when the love that I...
This article is a follow up to the article More Love… It’s early and I am up again moving my son’s sore and tired body. This surgery is hard to heal from. The body takes time to recognize a new shape. Time truly does heal. In the meantime, my husband and I wander back...
Your dignity as a person is not defined by where you sit.
Published in the Catholic Times, October, 6th 2019 We didn’t expect for it to end up this way. Twenty-two years, eight children, and a life lived so deeply that the everyday beauty and suffering of it is at times both blinding and brilliant. We met as college...
I remember the protest outfit of sunglasses, a black skull cap, and his black clothes. He was nervous and done with having this be part of his life; this was his voice.
He saw me before I saw him, but once I heard his voice my eyes lit up, my smile grew wide and my heart lifted. I ran across the airport into his arms and we embraced as if this were a young love. His arms are my shelter. His scent is balm to my soul. His heart, so...
It’s 8 am in my busy house and my phone rings. Exhausted from an emotional night, I answer the phone. “How’s that boy of yours?” the caller asks. Immediately my body tenses and the wall around my heart grows another layer taller. “He’s wonderful,” I reply. “Thank...
