Lament and Faith and Childhood: Why my kid and I read the sad Psalms

A year and a half ago, when my son first dreamed that a walrus (yes, I said a walrus) had entered his closet and rummaged around, I could not make that screaming child feel safe again, no matter what I tried. First, I lied about my own power: Look! I have Walrus spray! I’ll just [Read More...]

On graveyards…

I miss graveyards. I mean the lovely ones, with hills and big oak trees and ornate above-ground shrines and stone caskets. I love pebble paths between sections where I can read names of the centuries gone: Ann, who died in 1853. I miss the graveyards behind the church, in the middle of the old East [Read More...]


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