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When I was young, Thanksgiving dinners were never held in anyone’s house. My grandmother and her sisters decided that no one’s Philadelphia row house was big enough for the entire clan. Smart women that they were, we always took over a restaurant for the meal.

Theology school was like that for me. A space apart from the usual spaces to be fed, to laugh, to argue, to hear from the oldest and the youngest.

If I were to leave behind an epitaph, it would most certainly read, “Follow St. Francis!”