“I was being unmade. I was no one.” – Orual, Till We Have Faces, C. S. Lewis After confirming the absolute veracity of Meghan Markle’s

You’ll never guess what came on the UPS truck the other day—a life-sized cardboard cut out of Bob Ross. You know, the curly-haired PBS painter

“Gassed,” John Singer Sargent (1919). Imperial War Museum, London   The End of August and the End of the World For most of us, the

“But what if you die, and we’re not with you?” My nearly 12-year-old daughter asked me this last week as we looked ahead to the

The man wore a blazing-yellow shirt open at his chest. With thumbs hooked into the pockets of his black pants, he addressed a group of

In my last post here I reflected on Jennifer Senior’s book on parenting, All Joy and No Fun: the Paradox of Modern Parenting. I touched

I am feeling my mortality. On the one hand, I look back at my life and see a thousand mistakes I have made. Ways I

[Note: longish post. The story takes a while to tell…] Last week I was leafing through some back pages in the history of my own

It’s an odd title, Mystery Having Eight Mothers, and she didn’t have an editor. You can’t help but smile at an occasional misspelling, and often there’s little