For a decade of my life, I was a high school English teacher, and for seven of those years I taught at Charlestown High School in Boston. The school was its own United Nations. For all the diversity, one of…
Learning the mixed metaphors of grief, a primary color
“Your father has had a stroke. We are on our way to the hospital.” The text message came from my mother, just as I was finishing a worship service at a youth camp in the mountains of Arkansas. The next…