Words rest gently on my mind as I surface from slumber: a blanket of grace. I consider reaching for my iPad to tap them out—these, and others that have come with them—but I don’t. They’re not especially profound, but these words could be the pier from which I jump into something deeper—or maybe they’re just

Absurdity and Wisdom

When it comes to the business of how do you become a human being, how do you manage to believe, how do you have faith in a world that gives you 14,000 reasons every week not to believe, how do you survive . . . at that level we all have the same story, and

One Holy Evening

It starts with butterflies, it usually does. Any time I have to go somewhere new—in the evening especially—I get nervous, start second-guessing, and wondering if there’s a way I can get out of it. I know these women, some better than others. They know my story—they’ve read my book—no need to pull on a mask before


In the silence of a midwinter dusk there is far off in the deeps of it somewhere a sound so faint that for all you can tell it may be only the sound of the silence itself. You hold your breath to listen. . . For a second you catch a whiff in the air of


it is far more likely that we do not recognize God’s presence in our lives than it is that God is not present in our lives. Robert Benson, In Constant Prayer I’m thinking about time, and how, at this time of year, it can feel as if there isn’t enough of it. Or, conversely, for