My sister made an interesting observation.

“Mama’s life now is teaching me how to be kind and gentle; to learn empathy and respect. I don’t have a lot of empathy in general, but when I see her it grows,” she said.

After she said it, I realized I had been experiencing the same thing.

My 101-year-old mother, who requires complete care, has been living with me for a year. My sister, who lives a short drive away, visits us often.

I had never been much of a caregiver, but sometimes when you tackle the things you are supposed to do, the universe equips you with what you need to do it. …

When I was growing up in the sixties, adults responded with a standard answer to anyone questioning God. Because the Bible says so, was the reply that closed off further discussion.

In a predominately Christian culture, this answer might work. The Bible, viewed as the supreme authority, could be cited as the final word in a debate.

But we are no longer in a culture that considers the Bible the supreme authority. Even as early as the sixties, the culture was changing.

Schools, at least in the South, had always opened with prayer piped into classrooms via the intercom. Then in two landmark decisions, Engel v. Vitale (1962) and Abington School District v. Schempp (1963), the Supreme Court established a prohibition on state-sponsored prayer, citing it as a violation of the Establishment Clause. …

Mama dressed in her dementia suit today. It’s black and white, fitted and stylish, and still had the price tags attached when she came to live with me. When she wears it, she plans on going somewhere. The first time, she was attending her neighbor’s funeral. The second time, she was going shopping, and today she dressed for a party.

The thing is, her neighbor died decades ago. There are no shopping trips; there is no party. When she wears it, I know she will spend the day in another world; another time. …

Why am I not surprised over the riots today? Because I’ve never seen as much hatred in this country as I have seen over the past four years. I hope…

My former roommate was coming to visit for the first time since I had moved into my new apartment. We were best friends in college, and I hadn’t seen her in almost a year.

She was now in grad school and I was working as a newspaper reporter. I was also in a new relationship with the man of my dreams. When my best friend, I’ll call her Maggie, found out I had a boyfriend, she asked me to fix her up with one of his friends.

In college, it had been hard to keep up with Maggie’s ever-changing romantic involvements. She was beautiful, and she knew how to use it. Men flocked to her, and when she dumped them, as she always did, they were devastated. …

With Congress now in session
And Pelosi at the helm,
We can end this stalled recession
And improve our shaky realm,
Brought low by Covid-19
And a murder rate that’s soaring,
A country still in quarantine,
Its populace imploring
Leadership to step up quickly
And address our dire concerns,
Given many are now sickly
And have nowhere else to turn.

With vaccines still to be dispensed
And businesses long closed,
We hope our leaders soon commence,
If they are so disposed,
To get to work on our behalf
And turn these things around,
Using all the talent of their staff
To make our country sound. …

A long time ago, when I was in my twenties, I went through a devastating breakup with a boyfriend. I had finished college, was working as a newspaper reporter, had my own apartment, and was a Christian, although not a very good one. Many things I thought were certain had turned out to be tenuous, elusive, or just plain wrong. I was confused and depressed.

Then I dreamed I saw Jesus.

I did not, at that time, place much stock in dreams. Most of the time they fluttered beyond my grasp on waking, and I forgot about them. But this one was different, both because the details stayed with me and because my response in the aftermath of the dream was so unexpected and strange. …

humor

I hate when somebody asks me if I made it from scratch. Why, if it’s delicious, does it matter?

It happened the other day when I served a pan of lasagna, the sausage and beef combo kind (they have vegetarian, too) straight from Costco.

“Mmmm, this is great! Did you make it from scratch?”

No, but I put it in a regular pan before cooking it, so you would think I did. And now, instead of accepting delicious lasagna at face value, you have to pop the question, and I can either lie or admit that I did not spend endless hours in the kitchen making lasagna from scratch for your benefit. …