Yesterday, in the dark night of the lumbar 4-5 soul (around 2:30 a.m.), when it was clear that there would
be no more sleep, I was vouchsafed a vision.
"My brain is no longer a hive buzzing with new ideas for novels. My body tells me that seventy isn’t the new fifty or sixty. The immutable truth is that I’m old."
“In a high-tech, evidence-driven world of contemporary medicine, it was a dream that led a physician to conclude that my wife was dying. How was that possible?”
Christ was not worshiped for the manner of his death but because he was raised from the dead. Any history of the Christian martyrs must understand that fact.
Remembering the deceased is an act of hope. Sharing our faith and experiences together can pull us out of the darkness and into the beauty of Jesus’ life.
The invasion of Bucha may be over, but its residents’ lives are shattered and the horror continues as they mourn their dead and process the destruction.
Alzheimer’s causes great suffering for both those it afflicts and the people who love them—but our responses to it can provide a humanizing perspective.
“She was not patient. She was not kind. Edna was not the neighbor ready with a warm welcome when we bought the house on Harrison Street next door to hers.”
