Death reminds us that we are children. For those of us who live into old age, death returns us to a state of frailty and dependence. For anyone who believes in God, this would seem to be perfectly intentional. We enter this world utterly dependent, and we leave this world critically aware of exactly how…
The night she died stars were nesting near my window. The wind was so still that echoes of the sea were the only sounds rising from the earth until the howl of one human heart filled the universe. “The nest of stars,” marjory wentworth They call them rainbow babies because they’re born after the death…
There is a reason why I never speak about Lizzy and Cecilia’s father. For most of Lizzy’s life I was trapped in a broken marriage with someone who never wanted to be a husband or a father. As a result, I was a single mother to Lizzy while I was still married and a divorced…
March 20, 2023 Dear Lizzy, Today, you would have turned six years old. It is a struggle to imagine how beautiful you would be with your sunlit hair and oceanic eyes. It is harder to imagine how your personality would have evolved over the past four years, how much more Lizzy you would have become…
I. Elizabeth Aviva Fiada March 20, 2017 A wise man gifted Mary myrrh; his prayers fell silent before her stare; he lifted eyes of slate and stirred, afraid to speak—to prophesy, to say her Son was born to die. In Ireland, there is green that never fades and caves that gasp against the waves. Years…
This past year has been the busiest of my life with a new marriage, pregnancy, full-time graduate school, multiple moves, homeschooling a new stepson, and approaching the date of finally getting Cece’s service dog. It has been hard to find time to write this calendar year, hard to process all of the changes that seem…
August 6, 2018, Georgetown, South Carolina A 17-month-old Lizzy tromped fearlessly through the shallows of the deserted island in the opposite direction of our companions on the shelling tour. Still smiling from the cresting waves of the boat trip, Lizzy picked up one tiny, pink-flip-flop-clad foot after another, splashing merrily. The sun twinkled rainbows across…
When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste…
Dear Cece, Today is the last day of November, and on this day, I want to teach you about the Greek word eucharistia, which is translated as “thankfulness” or “gratitude.” Thanksgiving is a uniquely American holiday, but the act of thanksgiving is much, much older. Our theology will tell you that thanksgiving is the first…
It’s a long time that I’ve loved you. Never, never go away. – “Love Song of the Little Bear”, Margaret Wise Brown An ash leaf drifts on the surface of the water, vermilion and thin, as the sand sucks slowly at my ankles. The bay’s chill embrace beckons with curling fingers, veins of sand running…