Christ, the Refugee

So here we are at Easter.  My mind is stuck on a conversation I had yesterday with a friend who is undocumented.  Tears spilled down her cheeks as she talked about losing everyone to come here with her husband and children.  Obviously someone doesn't do that unless the situation is dire.  Now her husband's father is on his death bed in Mexico, and they can't do what most of us take for granted: go home and say goodbye.

Cemetery Clean Up

The Bay City Oddfellows Cemetery is a very special place to me.  As a kid, when things got rocky at home, I’d walk to the cemetery to sort m...