Chip Shots

Karen went to work just like she always did. She kissed her husband good-bye, wiped the dew off the windshield, and made the twenty-minute drive to Oklahoma City. She arrived in her office around 8:30. At 9:02 a.m., a rental truck blew up on the curb outside, killing her and 167 others. It was April 19, 1995, the date of one of the most horrific crimes in our history: the bombing of a federal building by an American citizen. Karen was my cousin. I vividly recall the moment, exactly twelve years ago, when I learned she was one of the victims. It’s not something I like to talk about, even now. Karen was the youngest of five girls, daughters of my father’s sister. My brothers and I were always proud of our beautiful and athletic cousins. Between the four kids of our family and the five kids of theirs, we enjoyed some fantastic volleyball games in their front yard. Time spent at their rural home in Midwest City is among our family's treasured memories. Now she is gone, the victim of a ...

Substitute teaching is one of the things I do to support my church habit. It’s been, if you’ll pardon the pun, quite an education. Take today, for example. I write these words on Maundy Thursday, the evening Jesus shared the Last Supper with his disciples. In a minor nod to the fading influence of Christianity in America, it’s also the end of a four-day school week for students. I’m subbing for a high school science teacher. While students casually attempt their worksheet on flatworms (we both know it’s just busy work), I pick up on an interesting conversation at the back of the room. “What do bunnies and eggs have to do with Easter?” a guy says. A girl in the next row replies, “They’ve got nothing to do with it. Easter is about the resurrection of Jesus from the dead.” “I don’t believe that story,” another girl volunteers. “I think they just made it up. Didn’t they find his bones somewhere?” I couldn’t resist. “No, they didn’t. It’s one of the reasons people are convinced it was true....