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...

I’ve always loved the poetic “O Antiphons” we say each year to close the Advent season. I can’t seem to get enough of them, and I’ve occasionally created a few extras to pray on my own. 

Just before Lent this year, while reading the Billy Collins poem “Aimless Love,” it occurred to me that I could start a parallel Lenten tradition. This Lent, I am creating and praying my very own “Ah” Antiphons; that is, verses that mark a moment of insight, awe, or appreciation. I’m also doing the traditional Lenten things, like fasting and service, but I have a feeling that writing an Ah Antiphon each day might end up being the practice with the most punch. More here...

How would you fill in the blank in the sentence below?

“_______________ has been my salvation.”

I asked myself this question today after watching an eleven-minute film called, “Still.” The mesmerizing film features 72-year-old Hawaiian free-diver Carlos Eyles floating through coral reefs, frolicking with dolphins, and stroking giant sea turtles.

Carlos Eyles is lucky, and he knows it. A childhood experience opened his eyes to the beauty and wonder of the ocean, and he never looked back. Everything in his life—his marriage, his career, his philosophical musings—reflect his unwavering passion. More here...

As Thanksgiving Day approaches, I remember the weathered face of an ordinary, middle-aged man who taught me more about gratitude than any book or Bible verse ever could. His name was João, and I met him at an international publishing conference in São Paulo, Brazil. The sessions were interesting but draining, partly due to the multitude of languages spoken. Thankfully, on the final day of the conference, the organizers scheduled a day of recreation at the beach. Piling into one of the 15-passenger vans, I was not too surprised to find João in the driver’s seat. The seminary’s longtime maintenance man cheerfully wore many hats. “João-of-all-trades,” we called him.
More here...