As Catholic Christians, we know that we never really lose anyone we love. We might just be physically separated for a while.

My trip to Israel this summer made me aware that everyone’s world is a world dependent upon a single perspective — formed by a single definition of “normal.”

The pumpkins are carved. The costumes are ready. The decorations are up. Even the chicken noodle soup is disguised as a ghost.

Our medical system has been giving up on far too many of these patients, prematurely ensuring their deaths based on faulty diagnoses and self-fulfilling hopeless predictions.

As a young adult Catholic, I aspire to emulate Ms. Joyce’s behavior, and become a Proverbs 31 woman.

There was a time where I was not proficient in Pokemon. I’m still not an expert, but I can at least speak the language.

We need a church that recovers what it means to be a family, a family that can disagree and argue passionately about things, but also that loves one another.

My encounter with the Holy Father reminds me that the Holy Spirit is working in small yet profound ways.

We’re all thinking about it, right? What exactly would we do if we were to win more than $1 billion in the Mega Millions jackpot?

I ran out of ideas for dinner by the end of the week, so I cooked a little of everything that was left in the fridge. It didn’t look like much of a spread on the table.