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A wise friend said, “Grace is magical when She visits you.”    

We are converting our wood-burning fireplace to gas. By my count, this involves eight distinct appointments with different unknown masked men coming into our house. Rob likes to sleep in so he asked me to greet the gas inspector first thing. I could have scared myself more. But thanks to Rob’s continued love and care, I knew where the document was that needed signing and I could point out the gas gauge that Mr. Inspector wanted to read.

We are a good team. I love this favorite husband of mine.

Happy Birthday, Rob Reid!     

When I received three of these shirts for Christmas, I assumed they were from Rob. After all, I had tipped him off, “This would be a great gift for me. Hint, hint.” They were my favorite present of the season; having extras was a thrill because I could give two to my buddies, other school psychs on bikes.

“Cycologist” is my preferred retirement role so far.

Imagine when I discovered my sister Susan sent me one (of the three) as early as my November birthday, with no tip necessary. Ah, seen. Warm delight.    

It is quite something to read the poems of women I knew first as novelists.    

I am experiencing these Lenten feast days in a new way, as never before. It’s obviously not that I fast on the other days. I think of it this way: While the 40 days in between these Sabbath days are for reflection and turning more deeply to God, the respite and celebration on Sundays are to remind us that this is all about Joy, now and in the long run. They allow us not to lose sight of this.