Kathleen and I make all the arrangements mothers have to make to spend a day away from their childrenbefore-school care, after-school care, instructions and emergency information. Everything is in order for us to be gone from early morning to late afternoon. We have 100 miles to go each way. She ins
Valerie Schultz
Valerie Schultz is a freelance writer, a columnist for The Bakersfield Californian and the author of Till the Moon Be No More: The Grit and Grace of Growing Older. She lives on the Oregon Coast.
Posted inColumns
We Serve Food, Not Faith
I was worried about associating with the Catholics, confides a woman at our monthly community meal. But this pasta is good! She asks me to wrap up a plate to go, for her friend next door. She leaves with a box of groceries, two blankets and a stylish red winter jacket.We are here each month to offer
Posted inColumns
Writing Blindly
From the daily barrage of news, certain stories stick with me. When my daughters were small, the reports of children abducted from campgrounds or snatched on their way to school haunted me. As they grow older, accounts of teenage drivers wrapped around trees or spread on freeways resonate. But for s
Posted inColumns
Renew the Face of the Earth!
Our Renew 2000 group met yesterday. The seven of us talked about the Eucharist: its implication in our daily lives, as well as its liturgical meaning and beauty. Then we went to work at the parish food pantry. We are between seasons of Renew, which is a small-group, faith-sharing program in which ma
Posted inFrom Our Archives
The Magic Touch: We are touchers; we are huggers. Our touching is an expanding circle.
At age nine, I had an epiphany. I was watching my parents holding hands as we walked across a parking lot after a football game. It was late afternoon, and they were in front of me, their silhouettes tilted toward each other intimately. It was a jolt: the first time I perceived them as something sep
Posted inFaith in Focus
Cat Fights
The girl who plows into my 13-year-old daughter as we stroll through the park at the annual Mountain Festival is solid. She is pierced with studs in odd places. Her tank top just covers her adolescent breasts. The force of her forward-pumping legs nearly knocks my daughter off her feet, and she stag