On a June day in New York City, they marched. Down Fifth Avenue, bubbles and confetti filling the air, drag queens shimmied and danced, and as they marched, they chanted,

Recently, my husband purchased a tub of peanut M&Ms from Costco (and by tub, I mean a container the size of a Buick). Thanks to an erstwhile friend whose name

This summer, my husband and I will celebrate 36 years of marriage. In those 36 years, we have done a lot, seen a lot, and overcome a whole heckuva lot.

On a Sunday night in June, we’re standing in a line. After grilling brat burgers over an open fire, we’ve taken a leisurely  drive to a family favorite, the local

It’s getting hot out there. After months of winter and a brief flirtation with spring, we’ve lurched directly into summer. Strawberries, plump and red, are appearing in local markets. Captivated

On green, sacred acres, there they sleep. White headstones stretch away into the distance, marching even here—especially here—in military precision. The winter snow falls down, lying atop each one. The

Last weekend, our family celebrated a milestone event. Our third son graduated from Hillsdale College with a Bachelor of Arts degree in politics. As commencement approached, my mind went back

It was the simplest example I’d ever seen. Standing by the newly-tilled bed, hose in hand, I was performing a precious ritual–the watering of the flowers. Oh, the ineffable holiness

It was a story that made national news. A prominent, beloved neurosurgeon in Detroit was shot and killed in his own home. His body was found in his attic after

“Pray for me,” read the message, “and for *____. He’s so petty, insecure, and immature sometimes (in light of the fact that) he’s supposed to be a spiritual leader. Passive