Cynthia Perkins never got the chance to meet Father Bob Wheelock. But on August 7, 2020, she attended his funeral. She wanted to say...

I hold my newborn son; he holds my gaze. As I carry him in my arms, he carries my heart to a new place. I notice every shift of his eyes,...

Etched on the back of my mother’s headstone are three simple prayers: “Lord, live in me, love in me, and act in me.” Adapted from...

“There’s still work to do,” I heard him say on a video screen. His words were faint, soft, broken. Norberto, a Paraguayan missionary who...

How do I begin writing about prayer when I have not felt like praying? It’s not that I’m angry at God. It’s not that I’m indifferent to...

All we had was one vague map on the lost trail which found a few. There were more hikers at the start as each scattered stranger received...

Sipping memories like chartreuse, we were so damn happy then, when Indiana stopped the clock again— snowbound, midnight, plaid pajamas...