Paul McMullen ponders those who have gone before us, holding on to hope for eternal life.

I had promised my sons a fishing trip, and we were determined to go.

It’s not every day that you turn 11 on the 11th.

The Advent season is a reminder that our own childlike faith can hardly imagine what God has in store for us.

“Every day is the same,” one of my boys said sadly the other day.

Constant tears can signal depression and are not good signs. But tears that spring forth in solidarity with the suffering, that draw us closer to the kingdom Jesus came to call forth, those can be good tears.

Father Doyle fields questions about purgatory and standing, sitting and kneeling at Mass.

As I hold the savior of the world, all tiny and baby bald, smaller than a loaf of bread, I don’t do anything. Nor say anything. Silence is often the best conduit of God.

~1~ I bought Advent calendars for both of our boys on Sunday. One of my sons ate all of his chocolates that day. That’s one way to do Advent, trying to hurry things along, rather than savoring the sweetness of each day. I can absolutely understand that impatience—and that love for chocolate. Many years that’s […]

Being near the people we love is always reassuring, bringing comfort and peace. It’s not even what they say or do that makes us feel better. There’s something about their presence that helps us feel loved, accepted and safe.