I don’t always say it out loud, but I think it every once in a while. “Why me? What did I do to deserve __________ ?” You can fill in the blank with your own particular burden. Funny thing: even though it looks like a question, it’s not really a question. It’s a lament, an existential moan. I don’t expect an answer. What I want is sympathy; someone to wallow with me in my gushing well of self-pity.

Imagine my shock, then, when shortly after I’d muttered these words one day, a total stranger looks me in the eye and says, “Seriously? Get over yourself, Alicia.” More here...

After my mind-blowing encounter with Palestinians and Israelis on a 2010 trip to the Holy Land, I have kept abreast of news from the region. Never has it been so painful as it is now. Sparked by the brutal murders of one Palestinian teen and three Israeli teens, the conflict seems to intensify every hour. 

I study photographs of the boys—Mohammed, Naftali, Gilad, and Eyal—all gangly growth and goofy smiles, smooth cheeks and pimply foreheads, then fix my gaze on their beautiful, blameless eyes. I want to scream. Why, God? Why? More here...

Jim Olson, a pediatric oncologist, was interviewed on National Public Radio earlier this year. The program was about science, not religion, which only makes his story more striking.

Dr. Olsen explained on the program, “A child who is going to die from their cancer isn't mourning the high school prom that they're not going to get to go to. They're not mourning the fact that they won't drive their first car. For a child, it's about, Am I happy? Are my parents happy? Is a cute dog going to come in and visit me at 2 o'clock in the afternoon? It's all about that moment, that day.” More here...