The thing I remember best about Louie is that he said he hadn’t had a peach in 30 years. Louie (not his real name) was a lifer; he was in his 50s and had been in prison for over three decades. On the day he told me this, as he was hanging out in the library where I work, a couple of landscape

Mass at an immigrant detention facility in Florence, Ariz.

The boy I knew so long ago in grammar and high school had died a martyr, an American hero.

Living in a family divided by the Tiber

I never realized the power of stories until I began working with refugees in East Amman. The stories I hear vary. Some are extremely happy, filled with vivid memories of times that were present with love and laughter, enough to fill a large Middle Eastern sitting room. These are the stories where yo

During my pilgrimage I wanted to learn and discover more about God.