What stories of faith live in our bodies? The sore back, the scar on your cheek, the wrinkles around your eyes, the calluses on your hands, the cancer that brought you to your knees and the hands that lifted you up again—there are stories of incarnate faith in all of these parts of our bodies. Every week, we'll share a new story from the Notre Dame family about the faith that lives in our bodies.

Mercy is My Home

Since I began showing up at the Catholic Worker, I’ve spent less time thinking about myself and what I lack. I’ve learned to listen better and become more patient. I’ve received the gift of new friendships.



On Bad Moods and Breaking Bread

I pull the loaf of still-warm bread from the paper bag. Something feels sacramental. I tear off a hunk and offer it to the boy I screamed at hours earlier. He grins and accepts. I do, too. We both chew, quiet and content.



How We Wrestle is Who We Are

Eventually my son will need a new heart, a transplant when he’s 30 or 40 or so, though Liam said airily the other day that he’s decided to grow a new one from the old one, which made me think: if we could grow new hearts out of old ones, what might we be then?