I am like many women you may know. I am in my forties and the mother of three wonderful children. I fancy gardening and estate sales and am partial to dark chocolate.

Since I retired, I've found myself reminiscing more.

There had been no symptoms.

Many people have heard about the need for foster parents. But probably fewer have thought much about the needs of foster parents.

In the final weeks of my mom’s life, she made me a promise.

Darlene Zschech wrote a beautiful hymn some 20 years ago called “The Potter’s Hand” that is still sung in congregations today.

In the spring of 2013, Dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer.

For 12 years I worked as the chief student life officer at two Christian colleges.

Her name is Semira*, and the cleaning services she offered were a Mother’s Day gift to me from my parents.

A few years ago I traveled to India with a group from my seminary.

The guests kept coming, and I kept mixing. 

In seventh grade, John* told me he liked me.

“Blessed are the peacemakers,” said Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount,

"But you're not black!"

My husband drives a beat-up white Tahoe that’s showing its age.

The Interfaith Chapel at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport doesn’t look much like a place of worship.

What is it like to parent a son or daughter with disabilities?

I know a lot of Christians who are interested in relating with Muslims these days.

“What is a pilgrim?”

The phone rings at 1 a.m.: a child is in the hospital.

How is a church like a chemo infusion center in a cancer hospital?

Who better to invite to a New Year’s Eve party than . . . Moses!