I stepped gingerly into the room. It was only my third week volunteering at the nursing home, and I was still very unsure of myself. A curtain enclosed the bed, and a fan slowly moved its head back and forth, lazily stirring the air and muffling all sounds. I gently pushed aside the curtain and peek
There are some things that you never forget. For me, it happened after a long day of school. I welcomed the peace and quiet of home, never realizing how ironic that sentiment soon would be. Shortly after arriving, I settled into the couch and snuggled under the increasingly warm blanket for what I t
In the oppressive heat of the midday sun, the nun in full habit held two heavy shovels. She walked just behind the gravediggers, who tried to carry with some dignity a lifeless body wrapped in old hospital bedsheets. We had arrived here in India just a few weeks before this burial.
A woman is hidden behind the white shower curtain. Judging by the sounds, I assume she’s soaping herself. Today is my first day volunteering at the Gift of Grace, a home where Mother Teresa’s nuns and volunteers care for poor women with AIDS. When I arrived earlier this morning, I asked
One February day last year, I was working at my office as Dominican formation director, when I received a call from Karen Pollard, B.V.M., of the St. Louis Archdiocesan Criminal Justice Ministry. She told me that a prisoner on death row in Potosi Correctional Institute, about 70 miles from St. Louis