Those questions were echoing in my mind as I watched children walking back to their seats after receiving Communion. They were beaming, full of light and love and hope and sacramental grace.

Back when I was just a few weeks from my high school graduation, our family dog got into a fight with a raccoon in our yard.

The other morning, I woke up and said to my husband, “Won’t it be great for us to have dinner tonight, all four of us together?” Then I looked at my calendar and realized we had a concert that evening.

As I was approaching an intersection, I heard an ambulance coming from the right. I stopped to let it go by. While I waited for the ambulance to pass, I felt something hit my car from behind.

She was one of the people who showed me how to live a faith-filled life – and how to do it with love, understanding and compassion.

I’m not traveling toward totality, and I’m not sure how much I will see of the eclipse. But I’ll be remembering that early-morning trip with my father to see a comet that only passes us every 76 years.

Somehow it seems easier to lean into the penance and sacrifice of Lent than the extended exultation of Easter. Maybe a day or two—or even a week—of rejoicing seems manageable. But 50 days? How will we ever be able sustain it?

Prayer is so powerful. Telling someone you are praying for them—and following through—can be an extraordinary gift.

No matter how we plan, or the expectations we set for ourselves, the actual Lenten journey never seems to look the way we might have hoped it would.

“I think he realized I was troubled as a father. You have to fight for your children,” Don said. “He said, ‘I’m glad you came to me.’ What a fine example of what God calls us to do. He truly was a man of God.”