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I’m sitting here in an airport during one of those countless little bubbles in time where nothing big is going on. I’m between flights, having just arrived in Detroit from Seattle and (soon) heading out for Pellston, MI. So I’m taking this time to write a bit—and reflect on the

There is the old joke about the helicopter pilot, lost in Seattle air space in the fog with a panic-stricken passenger. Suddenly, out of the fog looms a tall building. The pilot, running low on fuel, grabs a bullhorn and shouts to one of the people in the window, “Where

I was talking with a friend the other day. He’s a fellow convert who (as is common with us) was wondering why on earth Catholics who don’t believe much of what the Church teaches stay. He was greatly puzzled about the tendency of many life-long Catholics to remain quite proudly