When I read A Wrinkle in Time as a child, it was an experience of the senses.

When someone “becomes our cross,” the Father is asking us to become their Christ.

Could I really be happy if my primary focus for years to come was managing a house full of babies?

Every Sunday we would encounter each other, serve food and wash dishes “hip to hip.”

The Easter event, that is, the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, is simply too big a truth to be celebrated in just one day.

The suffering of ultrarunning is physical and mental, sharp and dull, here and there. And yet, it is joyful.