Our track record as a church is, alas, not much better than the rest of society. We have our own sad history of excluding people from our pews, our sacraments, our schools, only because of their accents or the color of their skin. How we could have possibly justified such behavior remains a mystery.

Big John the Muffler Man was a legend among Midwestern salesmen. During the ’50s and ’60s, he traveled the U.S. highways calling on automotive parts stores in an eight-state area.

Blanche and her friends had been in charge of the Mothers’ Club at their parish for years. They’d hosted lots of events, raised a lot of money for the religious education program, and had a lot of fun.

We saw the Mister Rogers movie, Won’t You Be My Neighbor? this past summer, and the memories of parenting came flooding back. When our daughters were young, Mister Rogers' Neighborhood and Sesame Street were the only programs we watched.

There are some who play because they have a sheer love of the game. But they are few and far between. And then there are those who play to win. And for too many, that means winning at all costs.

My daughter, Hannah, was naturally loving, as all babies are. She thrilled her grandparents and aunts and uncles with her willingness to sit in their laps and cuddle with nary a whimper for Mommy or Daddy.

I was on retreat once when a group of us were talking about spiritual practices that we find helpful. One guy shyly admitted that he makes a practice of doing something nice for some person every day while making sure no one knows about it—especially the person the good deed was done to.

A quick run through the supermarket wasn’t the place Jennifer expected to learn a lesson in faith, but faith overtook her one Thursday in the checkout line.

Paul-Emile Léger became archbishop of Montreal in 1950 and a cardinal three years later and was an active participant in the Second Vatican Council, but in 1967 he gave all that up in order to go to Senegal and Dahomey to work with disabled and impoverished children and those suffering from leprosy.

My friend Mary Anne starting ministering to migrant workers in rural Michigan 10 years ago, after her husband died young and she wanted to give his clothes to those who could use them.