Across the U.S., prominent, colourful and verbose lawn signs have been popping up. They all begin with “We Believe…” with slight variations in the body of the text. The text is basically a compendium of recent slogans on various hot-button issues. One of my Sisters commented to me as we drove by: “It’s like a secular Creed.” (Simply google “we believe lawn signs” for a sample.)

It’s been clear to me for nearing a decade that the vast majority of my fellow journalistic worker bees have drunk the Kool-Aid on MAiD.

The pandemic has led to a resurgence in the tradition of family board games, including one called Pandemic. My own family has favoured a word association game called Codenames. There is another game on our shelf though that I find myself thinking about these days — Monopoly. 

Earlier this year I wrote an appreciation here of the late Fr. Jonathan Robinson, who established the Oratory of St. Philip Neri in Montreal in 1975 and transferred it to Toronto in 1979. Last month, I wrote about the 175th anniversary of the conversion of St. John Henry Newman on Oct. 9, 1845, which is now his feast day.

Democrat posturing

Stan Swamy is an 83-year-old Jesuit priest and for the past 30 or more years has helped the poorest of the poor to exercise their human rights, for which he has now been accused of being a terrorist by Narendra Modi’s BJP government and is now languishing in jail.

The news that the Vatican and the Chinese government extended their ground-breaking but controversial 2018 provisional agreement on the appointment of bishops was met with a mixture of skepticism, hope and dismay.

I would not blame you if you sighed in frustration at yet another column about euthanasia. You may think others and myself have made the point repeatedly.

Who is your favourite saint? Do you know something about the life of the saint? 

If “The Church on the Street” were a weekly contribution to The Catholic Register, then I would frequently have the wrath of the editor on my shoulders as I submit, “Walked around downtown; nothing happened. The end.” Especially in these COVID-ridden times the streets are devoid of much of the activity that unfortunately led one journalist to write-off the area as “plagued by crack addicts, drug dealers and low-rent sex trade workers.”

Saving the open document on my computer, I close my door with intention, mentally leaving the worries of work inside my office. I wish my co-workers a good evening and check in with myself as I walk to daycare to get my littlest one. We drive to school to pick up the big three while I review the evening’s supper plan. My oldest is finally big enough to sit in the front seat and we chat about our days while the small three connect in the back. The days blend together and I am keeping my heart fixed on Barbara Brown Taylor’s question: “What is saving your life right now?”