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When you sit in a darkened theater, you know the play is the result of months of rehearsal. You see the sets and understand they were built by human hands.

Years ago, I read a story on a "mom blog" that I will always remember because of these words.

“To fall in love with God is the greatest romance; to seek Him the greatest adventure; to find Him, the greatest human achievement.”

Please bear with me for a brief laying of the foundation - because it leads to one of those breath-catching wow moments that seems especially fitting as Lent draws near.

My husband was raised by his grandmother. After raising her own ten children, she took in him and his two older brothers when their parents couldn’t raise them.

I recall from my youth hearing a remarkable testimony on a Christian radio station. A blind guest spoke about being grateful for being without sight.

No matter how many times we hear the Nativity story, it never loses its beauty nor does it fail to evoke a sense of wonder.

We are all pilgrims, walking homeward to the Father, some of us carrying heavy burdens and many of us unsure of the next step.

When I graduated from high school, oh so many years ago, I received a gift that I still have. It has moved with me from home to home...

I read a story years ago from a woman who shared how she would donate to the local food drives each year.

A couple of weeks ago, someone I deeply care about was navigating a season of intense, internal struggle. The stress was invisible, yet she wore it so visibly.

I have a favorite necklace. It’s a small disc etched with two simple words.

A few weeks ago, I stood at the lectern of my church parish to invite fellow parishioners to sign up for the upcoming annual Rosary Congress.

I was on my way to bring my boys to a sports lesson one afternoon when they were young.

Our family of 10, (2 parents, 7 children and 1 grandchild) had outgrown our family car, a beige six-passenger Chevrolet Impala. My parents advertised our car for sale so they could buy a used suburban they’d found at a car dealership.

Listening to a homily last weekend, my thoughts swirled – initially in full agreement with what Father was saying. Then “yes, but” popped into my head.

Has your heart been heavy this past week as mine has with the images of grief and destruction, the news of devastation and death?

A rising high school junior, a rising college junior and a rising postgraduate student all drive off in a jeep with a U-Haul hitched to the back.

Over the past couple of years, I find that I’ve begun outright smiling and sometimes laughing quietly in Mass when I hear the sound of a baby crying out or a toddler issuing vocal demands during the celebration.

What does it truly mean to live a life of consequence – one that leaves a lasting mark beyond our own time?