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What do you say to someone who is one foot out the door? Recently I was listening to some people who were worried about the kids today. (Yeah, I know, that’s an eternal and omnipresent sentiment among us Olds.) This was more specific, though. The worry wasn’t about general kids-being-kids stuff; it was that today’s
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“Make no little plans. They have no magic to stir men’s blood and probably will not themselves be realized. Make big plans, aim high in hope and work, remembering that a noble, logical diagram once recorded will never die, but long after we are gone will be a living thing, asserting itself with ever growing
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Why go back? Maybe this is weird; I get the sense, from the questions friends ask, that maybe it is. We live in this phenomenal world in which there are more breathtaking places to explore than a modern Marco Polo could ever visit. We live in a city with more new restaurants than you could
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“Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.” – I John 3:2 What do you say to the dying? A friend of mine asked me something along
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How would you feel if I told you that, as you grow older, you’ll probably become a more concentrated version of the person you are now? Like, you, only more so? This isn’t a data-driven theory, just an observation. It seems like, for the most part, the people I have known for a long time
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“Really, you should throw free t-shirts into the crowd for 40 minutes, and only stop for brief interludes of basketball.” — Al My first “real” job was as the director of media relations for the Atlanta Glory of the startup (and short-lived) American Basketball League, which showcased many of the world’s finest professional women’s basketball
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Luke 16:25-26 – “My child, remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented. Moreover, between us and you a great chasm is established to prevent anyone from crossing who might wish to go from our side
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Why do I write? So, the shortest of answers is that intermittent reinforcement is a helluva drug. I write stuff, and I post it on Facebook, and some people click the like button, a few people write something nice, and, every once in a while, I bump into someone at a conference or somewhere who
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Poor Paul. This was my thought, briefly, when I realized at the start of Mass what I thought was about to happen. Once every three years, the Church’s liturgical cycle of readings cues up a complete turkey of a reading that I have seldom heard acknowledged, much less preached on, from the pulpit. In I
Reading Francis 