Every meal, every day can be an image of the Eucharist. Although we are required to work hard and do our best, it is not about us or our efforts.

Before my illness I frequently thought of life from the perspective of what I had accomplished. Throughout my illness, God has reminded me that what is most important is what we do for other people and that he is really in charge.

The reactions generally fell into two camps: I was either completely crazy or a saint, both of which I knew to be untrue.

The Trump administration is engaged in a systematic war against immigrants, and one prime target seems to be those of us who represent them.

We women do not want to make waves; we do not want to upset people. But the moment for all of us to act is decidedly now.

This Day of the Dead, I made two loaves of bread: one to share with colleagues and the less pretty one for myself and my grandpa to share over a cup of cafecito.