I’m Mark. I write about people, places, faith, and everyday life. If you’re new here, these five essays are a good place to begin.
When I was a freshman in college, I was thrilled to learn that WrestleMania would be held on March 29 in Boston. I spent months recruiting friends to join me. However, as the event approached, my friends dropped out one at a time until I was the only one left. […]
This is one of the last photos I have of my father with his dear friend Bill Henry. It was taken three months before my dad passed away. The other photo is Bill speaking at my father’s service. Bill showed up for my father in every way imaginable. They met […]
May 28, 2012. That was the day my niece Anna and I became friends. She was two years, one month, and twenty-one days old. Until then, every time I saw her, she gave me the most quizzical look—as though I were visiting from another planet. Even before she was speaking, […]
In May 1892, in Poland, Józefa gave birth to twin daughters. One died that same day. Four days later, Józefa died. She was 36 years old. Six weeks later, the surviving twin, Ewa, died too. Years before, when Józefa’s son Anthony was born, his uncle by marriage, Jan Ziółkowski, appeared […]
Eulogy for Paul Anthony Lamberti (December 30, 1944 to October 18, 2023). Love you, Dad. I collected all the things people wrote about my father after he passed. Then, I put them into one of those word counters. The word most used to describe my father was “kind”. Next, was […]
I will now give you some diet advice free of charge. But first, a quick story. It used to be that I got a Butter Crunch ice cream on the way to the gym every other week or so. Then, it became once or twice a week. Then, three or […]
His major contribution to the world was not a set of aphorisms. He was born in a turdy barn, grew up in a dirty world, got baptized in a muddy river. He put his hands on the oozing wounds of lepers, he let whores brush his hair and soldiers pull […]
This kid buried his head on my shoulder. He was fast asleep. On the jet airplane. I wanted to say, “Hey brother, your father is on the other side.” But little Mexican boy was much too young to be my brother. Still, I wanted to say “brother”, as if I […]
As I got out of my car to get some milk this evening, I couldn’t help but notice the guy sitting in the car parked next to mine. He was staring at me. Why? I don’t know. The last time somebody stared at me was about a week ago. It […]
“Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.” One of my co-workers had a baby today. A beautiful baby of course – aren’t they all? A few hours later, a different co-worker received a call that his father had died. His dad was thought to […]
Who is the better golfer?
Who will get us first?
Who was the best lawyer?
Must've been all that chocolate milk he consumed the last few years
Al Horford headed to his first NBA Finals at age 35. In no small part because Horford, at age 35, is still damn good.
My first awareness of change within me came as I began to reflect on how I performed the mundane responsibilities from which I felt so alienated. Though I was not completely alive to them, I was able at least to think about them, if only from a distance. I was struck by how wonderfully ordinary life is. Simply being alive became holy to me. As I saw myself typing exams, chatting with a student on the way to class, or tucking one of my children into bed, I sensed I was beholding something sacred. My encounters with students presented astonishing opportunities to listen and encourage. Bedtime with Catherine, David, and John allowed me to convey the blessing and love of God to them. I was not yet fully alive to these ordinary moments, but I began to glimpse how profound they were.
In other words, though I experienced death, I also experienced life in ways that I never thought possible before – not after the darkness, as we might suppose, but in the darkness. I did not go through pain and come out the other side; instead, I lived in it and found within that pain the grace to survive and eventually grow. I did not get over the loss of my loved ones; rather, I absorbed the loss into my life, like soil receives decaying matter, until it became a part of who I am. Sorrow took up permanent residence in my soul and enlarged it. I learned gradually that the deeper we plunge into suffering, the deeper we can enter a new, and different, life – a life no worse than before and sometimes better. A willingness to face the loss and to enter into the darkness is the first step we must take. Like all first steps, it is probably the most difficult and takes the most time.
– Gerald L. Sittser, loser of his mother, wife and daughter in a car accident with a drunken driven. Taken from his book: A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss.
