Lent is meant to be a challenging time during which we deny ourselves material goods in order to grow closer to God. On Ash Wednesday, only four weeks ago, we could scarcely imagine how challenging these 40 days would be.

In each issue of Us Weekly, there is a spread titled “Stars: They’re Just Like Us!” featuring paparazzi photos of celebrities engaged in everyday activities: ordering a cup of coffee, taking their kids to the playground, loading groceries into their cars.

A particular reading from the lectionary can strike one with an impact that reverberates through the years. Such is my experience with Sirach 3: 2-7, 12-14.

Although I’ve lived the last 45 years in Park Slope as a member of St. Saviour parish, I grew up in Maine. In 1952 when I was eight years old, my father was removed from our home and committed to a mental hospital where he remained for a year and a half. He was diagnosed with manic depression, now termed bipolar disorder. When Dad returned home, he remained stable for a number of years.

Lent is a time for prayer, penance and piling mounds of spaghetti on fried fish. Listen, I’m as surprised to have written that sentence as you may be to have read it. The Catholic Fish Fry is a unique cultural phenomenon, and in particular the St. Louis Catholic Fish Fry is without compare.

The elusive Feb. 29th rolls around again this year, as it does in all years that are divisible by four — unless, oddly, they are years that are divisible by 100 but not by 400.

During my time at Aquinas H.S. in La Crosse, Wis., I was privileged to have a young Sister Thea Bowman as a teacher during my sophomore year.

In the 1990s, the phrase “if it bleeds, it leads” became a staple at some television stations around the country. Newscasts would focus almost entirely on crime, violence and salacious stories to attract viewers. That bygone era came to mind when I read Pope Francis’ Jan. 24 message for World Communications Day, which focused on storytelling. It pointedly made me think of how different storytelling, and journalism, could be from that late 20th-century approach.

February is a tough month for our family, bringing the anniversaries of our twins’ deaths. Each year I find myself answering hard questions from our sons about their sisters. Why did they die? Where are they now? Will I get to see them again?