Bombs came raining down; the night sky was punctuated with the light of streams of bullets; over 110 Tomahawk cruise missiles were launched from U.S.…read more
It’s not easy being green It seems you blend in with so many other ordinary things And people tend to pass you over ’cause you’re…read more
When people ask me why I serve as a Eucharistic Minister, I usually just give them the short version of the story: Because I felt…read more
It was another Saturday night in our house: The kids were asleep, the dog had been fed, the dishes were done. Finally, it was just…read more
You have to hand it to the Irish. Every March 17th, they put on the party of the season. Celtic or not, everybody celebrates St.…read more
We were halfway through the hour-long walk back from a neighboring township to our village of Thembalethu, South Africa, when the dark, cloudy skies opened up and a torrential downpour fell upon us. We quickened our pace, attempting to flee the onslaught. The dirt road was quickly turning to mud; with each step our feet began sinking deeper into the swampy red earth.
We were only a month into our Peace Corps service at this point, in a strange part of the village where we had never been, and had little idea where to seek shelter. I was with Heather, who was not only the nearest American volunteer to me but would also become my closest friend over the next two years. We looked at each other anxiously, despair seeping into our hearts as we resigned ourselves to walk for the next half hour, though we could barely see 3 feet in front of us. Then, a small lone figure appeared under an umbrella…read more