Heavenly rooms and a burned-out house
By Joan Sauro, CSJ
After one house tragically burns, a memorial service reminds the author that, in our Father's house, there are many rooms.
After one house tragically burns, a memorial service reminds the author that, in our Father's house, there are many rooms.
All of my life I have been running. In our family album there is a picture of me in diapers with my left arm in a sling. Big tears run down my cheeks. Not yet a year old, I had been running in my aunt’s house, slipped on the high gloss and broken my arm.
An aging priest, an 80-year-old husband and a professor emerita do not look away as aging destroys the memories of those they hold dear.
“You are the eyes and ears of the neighborhood,” the police chief tells us at the neighborhood watch meeting. “Law enforcement counts on you to report any unusual activity.”