Spirituality | Michael T. Dolan

Do unto others

Thanksgiving morning came too early for me. I had gone to sleep much too late the night before, but my two-year-old son was ready to start the day at 6:30 A.M. So much for sleeping in. A few hours later I lay on the couch with …

Wings

It was a grey November afternoon, the air cold but not too cold, the sky dark but not too dark. I sat in my car at the traffic light and a flock of starlings caught my attention. Simultaneously, hundreds of them ascended from a barren …

Wawa

The local convenience stores have all installed fancy touch screen computers that allow customers to place their order without even uttering a word. Late at night, I am the only person standing in front of the deli and its technological testimony to efficiency. The young …

Autumn’s martyrs

Fiery leaves signal the dawn of all middles, a waning bell curve between the activity of summer and the dormancy of winter. Autumn – the midpoint of all that lives and all that dies. I stand in the sun’s light and feel the warmth of …

Walking

My children and I were on an evening walk in the neighborhood, their watchful eyes taking in all there was to see – basketball nets in driveways, a bunny rabbit or groundhog scurrying across a lawn, kids playing street hockey. A few blocks from home, …

Parable of the rocks

The rocks have stood there virtually unchanged for 20,000 years, giving visitors a present-day glimpse of a long-ago past. It’s known as Boulder Field, and its nearly 17 acres of sandstone and rock is an awe-inspiring site to anyone visiting Hickory Run State Park in …

Drawn to the light

The neighborhood has long since gone to sleep. A novel kept me up past the others, and so it is well into the morning when I call it a night. I face the mirror, toothbrush in hand. Tapping and buzzing on the window screen call …

Carpenter bees

My daughter and I stood on the back deck working on the never-ending honey-do list. I stood on the picnic table bench about to drill into the stucco back wall. A carpenter bee flew from underneath the picnic table. They’d found themselves a home in …

"Bye-bye. Love you."

My four-year-old daughter learns much from her mother, not the least of which is her fondness for talking on the telephone. One night, with yellow play cell phone in hand, she practised calling 911. She thought of all the possibilities that I could play victim …

Christmas

The crowds stream into the church on Christmas day. Still twenty minutes before Mass is to start and already the pews are filled. Quickly the aisles are filled with those forced to stand. Latecomers are forced to pile into the vestibule; still others are forced …

Listening to God

I sometimes think we forget to listen to God because we think his time is spent talking to the truly important people. The saints. The mystics. The prophets. We have it in our minds that God speaks our language and that if he wants to …

Seasons greetings

The mailbox is full today, as it has been often these days with the approaching holiday. Within the many Christmas greetings, though, there are always one or two annual family updates that spout off all the wonderful things the family accomplished in the last year. …

Spirits in the sky

My three-year-old daughter has three fears that bring about instant and complete anxiety in her little body: loud noises, crowds, and costumed people. For Molly, our town’s annual Halloween parade is her triumvirate of fears. Arriving in advance of the crowds and the noise, we …

Have you seen us?

Each week in my mailbox I am deluged with circulars, credit card applications, and assorted flyers that make their way directly to the recycle bin without passing go. As I deposit the papers in the brown paper bag, I inevitably pause when two lonely faces …

Brake lights

The busier life gets, the more difficult it seems to find the time to spend an hour in the Lord’s presence on Sunday, let alone any other day of the week. I have a hunch, however, that God realizes how busy we are. He knows …

Salt on the earth

Darkness swallows the neighborhood, save for the covering of snow on the ground and the glow of moonlight. Snow has silenced the streets, though not for long. Soon enough the trucks and their angry plows will be about, salting the life out of snowy peacefulness. …

Leaf-letting

I stand in the middle of the yard, an enormous pile of leaves to my side. I lean on my rake and look at the great expanse of yard still to be cleared. Breathing in the smell of burning decay, I look up at the …

Acorns

The squirrel sat on the lawn across the street, staring at the two-year-old girl hollering over to it. “Acorns! More acorns here!” She gestured at our lawn, which was littered with the droppings of the two tall oaks that towered over my daughter. She continued …

Bodysurfing

“Starting Point” in the National Catholic Reporter (August 11, 2006). I walk the beach with my toddler daughter, a bucket of ocean in tow. Looking to the waves, a man is teaching his son to bodysurf, and I catch of glimpse of my past and …

The moon and the surf

God spoke to me tonight through the moon. Listening to the waves crash on the ocean floor, I heard the voice of God talking. The moon’s gravity pulled the ocean skyward, continuing the eternal conversation of the surf.