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Good Letters

I Am the 99%

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Every Monday through Friday morning, the whole family (my wife, eighteen-month-old son, five-year-old daughter, and myself), pile into our Saturn and drive the three miles to drop off our daughter at school. (The drive takes exactly seven minutes.) The Saturn needs work that we can’t really afford to have done right now, and so there’s…

For All the Saints

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When I was growing up in the Catholic Church, November 1st was a Holy Day. All Saints Day, they called it. Aside from the obligatory Mass I attended, it was a day to stop, to take time out of our busy lives to remember, to pray for, and to be thankful for all the saints…

Death-Defying

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My eleven year-old, Caleb, asked me one afternoon if he’d ever cheated death. Caleb likes adventure books. He believes that even though people in Kansas don’t talk the way Johann Wyss and Jules Verne wrote, phrasings like “death-defying feat” and “brave young hero” are common parlance. I remember when that ended for me. It was…

Eleanor Rigby

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When I leave early in the morning for work, I often pass Eleanor Rigby. She is coming, I am going; her day ending as mine begins. She never looks at me as we pass, but I look at her. Mostly what I see is through the glass of her windshield, but I occasionally pass her…

Agnes Varda: A Fortune Right in Front of Me

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  Tonight, I’m paying attention to one of my “essentials.” You probably have a movie like this one—a movie that repairs you, that restores your spirits, that put everything into perspective. (If you do, leave a comment so we can all check it out.) But let me tell you what I’m watching. I see a…

Choose Ye This Day Thy Paradox

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I am not overly interested in the so called battle between Science and Religion. I have my opinions, but my deep interest is elsewhere. It just seems to keep popping up around me lately. In response to my last post, Beth Bevis wrote that what she noticed was how “people need a sense of transcendence…

Princesses, All

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Even as I made the desperate, early September phone call to sign up for Mommy and Me ballet, I was watching myself, with more than a little bit of amusement. I’d been monitoring the website for weeks, trying to wait until the last possible minute when available class space would coincide with my ability to…

That Kind of Love

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As of October 18, my fourth novel, How to Save a Life, is officially out in the world. The plot involves a death, a pregnancy, and an adoption. Recently, a fellow writer said he thought it interesting that I, the same person who wrote about not being a mother here at Good Letters, had written a…

Steve Jobs, Calligraphy, and Digital Resurrection

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In my last post, “Aftermath,” I described the before-and-after experience of a recent trip to Los Angeles to pitch a drama series for television. Among other instances of what felt like divine timing at the start of the trip despite the dispiriting outcome by the end of it, there was one such instance that could…

Pride and Progress

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My family moved to Sauk Village when I was eight years old. The town rode the border between Illinois and Indiana, an hour south of Chicago; its town motto was Pride and Progress, stamped on a blue concrete sign flanking the intersection of Sauk Trail and 394, the westernmost edge of town. We didn’t know…

Good Letters

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Richard Chess
Joanna Penn Cooper
Brad Fruhauff
Burke Gerstenschlager
Caroline Langston
Morgan Meis
Jeffrey Overstreet
Christiana Peterson
Peggy Rosenthal
Tania Runyan
Brian Volck

For the humanists of the Renaissance, literature mattered because it was concrete and experiential—it grounded ideas in people’s lives. Their name for this kind of writing was bonae litterae, a phrase we’ve borrowed as the title for our blog. Every week gifted writers offer personal essays that make fresh connections between the world of faith and the world of art. We also publish interviews with artists who inspire and challenge us.

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