In our corner of the country, we fancy ourselves as extremely welcoming and hospitable folk.

Harry McAvoy: Doing battle with the dragons

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Those of us living with serious health concerns know the days can be long. I have always appreciated an expression I heard years ago: The days are long, but the years are short. 

Francis Campbell: Our denials are a daily struggle

By Francis Campbell

Most of us muddle through life oblivious to the symphony of roosters crowing in the background. 

Francis Campbell: Strike three, and with God, you still aren’t out

By Francis Campbell

Lent is a time for reflection and renewal.

Francis Campbell: Nova Scotia makes organ donation a priority

By Francis Campbell

Amid the January inundation of news from south of the border about insurrection, impeachment and inauguration, a significant piece of Nova Scotia legislation took effect with little fanfare.

Harry McAvoy: The importance of a grateful heart

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By my estimation memory loss ended my career 12 years before I was ready or able to retire. Even worse, in the four years since, the doctors haven’t been able to determine what happened or whether my memory will ever improve.

Francis Campbell: Togetherness of Mass a necessity of our faith

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The doors to our Catholic church swung open again on Sunday morning, weeks after in-person Masses were shut down for the second extended period of the coronavirus pandemic.

Francis Campbell: Retirement arrives in a bizarre time

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Archbishop Anthony Mancini could hardly have envisioned a more atypical adieu to his service with the Halifax-Yarmouth archdiocese.

Harry McAvoy: Reaching out with prayers and a phone

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It is late, dark and cold outside. Neve, our 97-pound dog, is standing in the middle of the road in front of our house. I think, silly dog, but just as quickly it occurs to me I am standing right beside her. As Neve and I look down Vincent Street I admire the Christmas lights which make our neighbourhood sparkle.

Harry McAvoy: Music always strikes the right notes in life

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On a recent Saturday morning I revisited simpler times. After returning home from morning Mass the Bride and I were welcomed at our front door by Rose Anne, our eldest, and her two boys Jack and Beckett. Rose Anne had dropped by for a visit and had managed to rouse her sisters, Clare, Emma and Hope, from their beds.