Bravest Thing (He Ever Did)

“You’re going to use the same old Christmas letter template again, aren’t you?” These are dangerous words when they come from your wife. “What’s wrong with my Christmas letters?” I asked. I intended the sharpness of my voice to be felt.  “Oh, nothing.” “Well, do you want to write the dumb letter this year?” “No! Look, it’s just…it’s fine. We don’t need to talk about it.” Being married for fourteen years, I know two things: 1) It’s not fine. 2) I was about to change my Christmas letter style. It’s not my fault Becca wants a different letter. It’s the fault of our friends. You see, each year, I imagine because we’re so popular, we receive a flurry of letters from families far and wide. The problem is these letters are entertaining. Too entertaining. These people out-write me—ME, the author of FIVE BOOKS, darn it!—as though I’m unworthy to unlatch the strap of their laptop case. They make me look bad; a real amateur hour. These friends. “Friends.”  Jerks. I joke. Sort of. Either ...

I thought Covid would have killed it. It should have, as an act of mercy. Better to die living than live dying, or however hippies put it. I do not speak of Anthony Fauci’s career but of a rural Saskatchewan parish a mere thirty minutes from my home. A Catholic parish that remains open to this day, though how or why I cannot say. I recently attended Sunday Mass there with my wife and five children. We had to stop in before traveling onward to visit relatives. This small church is the sister parish of our usual hometown parish and, therefore, is serviced by the same young priest. It seemed low risk.  The air had a crisp autumn chill as we pulled into the low-key town with an official population of about 500 . We bumped along the pothole minefield known as Main Street—thanks local politicians—past the 50 Shades of Green Cannabis shop—thanks Trudeau—towards the tired, rundown-looking church—thanks Vatican II . The parking area, a patch of yellowing grass that serves as a parkin...

Last week I was flipping through YouTube looking for something edifying to watch. It was Holy Week, and so I thought a spiritually uplifting talk was in order. Something to inspire. Something to bring peace. Boy did God have other plans for me! Instead, what popped up in my feed was an interview by U.S. Grace Force. This is Fr. Heilman and Doug Barry's YouTube channel. In this video they were interviewing Daniel O'Connor about an upcoming solar eclipse. What they said shocked me to the core. There is an eclipse coming April 8th. It will hit hardest around Texas. More importantly, it will plunge several towns named Ninevah into total darkness. It's so perfect I can hardly believe it all. But wait, there's more. As if to add rocket fuel to the fire, there has been a private revelation recently released regarding this event. This private revelation concerns a place in...wait for it... Texas!  The Sanctus Ranch. A holy name for a holy place, no doubt. Well, the long and sho...

  Some insecure childishness... Background information: Little Women has been my nemesis. I HATE Little Women. Why? A while back, Amazon tightened up the book categories. This has made becoming a bestseller very difficult. I entered most of my books in a Canadian Literature category. Makes sense, no? Just one problem… Little *@%## Women did too! What they have to do with Canadian Literature, you tell me... (Cause I refuse to read that book). Long story short, Little Women is a perennial bestseller. I haven't been able to compete. My wife also tells me there was a Little Women movie released not too long ago. That doesn't help. Sigh. I guess Alcott speaks truth: “Some people seemed to get all sunshine, and some all shadow…” I live in the shadows of Little Women. But thanks to ALL OF YOU, at least for a short while, Little Women can brood about relationships and such from the outside. Long live the misfit!   I can’t compete against a classic long-term. Not without Divine interve...

I'm getting excited! The next installment of my Adventures of a Misfit series is set for release on Wednesday, March 6 th ! It’s titled  My Town’s Feud .   Here’s the back cover blurb: “The game went on as expected. Tempers flared. Emotions ran high. A few fist-fights broke out. But enough about the parents…” For homeschooled “misfit” Joey Storthoaks, the game of hockey involves a love-hate relationship. He loves hockey with a burning passion. He also hates his irritating rival, Ryker Hanson, with a resentful rage.  Unfortunately, Joey’s competitive desire is also his downfall, and he soon leads his small town of Saskariver into a fiery, furious, and uproariously funny feud with Ryker’s town of Bigfort. Only this time, the stakes are higher than a humble hockey game. National glory is on the line. Can Joey lead his hometown to triumph? Or will the town feud prove to be the ultimate undoing? One thing is sure: readers, young and old, will  love  this hilarious mi...

I do not write to stir up the SSPX/FSSP debate. Nor do I write to raise allegations and threats concerning being  in communion ,  schismatic , or  a   loyal son of the Church . I find doing so tiresome. If a person cannot recognize the Church is in a crisis; if a person thinks it spiritually superior to attend a polka Mass (they still exist, I assure you) over an SSPX Mass; if the mention of Archbishop Lefebvre angers a person more than the deeds of  James Martin  or the writings of  Cardinal Fernandez ; heaven help this person. Lord knows I can’t. If one “gets” what I’m saying, read on. If not, I suggest  this book  instead. It happened this past summer. My wife and I were planning our usual family pilgrimage to the Canadian Rockies. Climbing mountains while carrying a kid or two, eating rehydrated chili and peanut butter wraps, all while living like dirtbags in a tent, is the closest experience to heaven I know. Moments to live for. All e...