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Connected through beads and bread

I awoke to the rhythmic murmurs of my mother praying. Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Hail Mary,...

books for my curator dreams

I daydream of working among works of art. In the meantime, I’ve been “researching” art museum and gallery life in the world of books. These are some of my favorites.

packed with love

My Argentine mother-in-law stopped me in the hallway to give me a drying rack and a package of new sponges. We had been staying with her and my father-in-law for about a week as we waited to move into our new house. As move-in day approached, the gifted pile of items...

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a prayer for mothers

As a little girl, I would quietly walk to my parent's bedroom, pajamas still rumpled, as my mama was praying the rosary, kneeling against her bed facing a makeshift altar of burning candles, pictures and small statues of Jesus, Mary and a few saints. She would turn...

a peacemaker’s life

Long before I discovered the Enneagram, I embodied the traits of a type nine, the peacemaker. I sought balance above all things, pretended to sleep to avoid conflict, got lost in comfort and vices, and studied others, quickly empathizing and emulating them. Unaware of...

“We do not write in order to be understood;
we write in order to understand.”

– C.S. Lewis