Last month, as Chicago and other Midwest cities made headlines for smoky skies, I donned my mask and headed outside. A certain sadness, much like the haze, enveloped me. I wondered whether the tears in my eyes were from the smoke or for the smoke, and what it meant. By the end of June, Canada…
Our home has a Christ room. The room is simple, outfitted with an enormous depiction of Rembrandt’s “Return of the Prodigal Son,” and remains intentionally open for short-term stays of all kinds. We have hosted family members and friends (and friends of friends), kindred community-cultivators, monks and nuns, refugees, respite-seekers and people yearning for imaginative…
I’ve been thinking a lot about my devotion to the Holy Spirit. As a vowed Franciscan Sister, I publicly committed to obeying the Spirit’s nudges, whispers, pulls and invitations. This means I am committed to living life according to God’s will, not my own. Like it or not, God’s way is always better than my…
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