On Sept. 22, former Edmonton Catholic School District chaplain Fr. Michael “Catfish” Mireau passed away after an extensive struggle with a rare form of cancer. He was 42 years old.

TORONTO - I expected much worse when I sat down recently to watch The Book of Mormon musical at Toronto’s Princess of Wales Theatre.

A recent study by the Council of Ontario Universities paints a rosy picture of post-graduate life. Within two years of graduating, 93 per cent of graduates are employed and the average salary for someone working full-time is just under $50,000.

Grandparents are an undervalued resource 

When I was eight, one of my friends made a statement that baffled me: she didn’t know any of her cousins. Growing up, I had this precon-ceived notion that everyone had a large family, and every Sunday my peers, like me, would go to church, walk down to their grand-parents’ house afterwards for brunch and play with their cousins long into the afternoon.

Following a traumatic injury and several surgeries, a friend I had once known to be free-spirited came out of the hospital a different person. He was healed physically but, mentally, he was far from fine. He called me one night as I was working on a school assignment. All notions of a quick conversation dropped when his shaky voice collapsed into a cry for help.

Chicago’s Michigan Avenue was alive with spirit, laughter and heart on the last weekend of July. While the rock festival Lollapalooza drew many tourists to Chicago, for me and other young women, Nunapalooza took centre stage. The annual Come and See weekend retreat, hosted by the Daughters of St. Paul, was held on the same weekend and in the same city as the music festival, but it called young women to come together for a different purpose: to better know God. 

I looked over at Santos, my dance instructor; he was pouring sweat. I prayed to God I didn’t look the same. The sun was beating down on us and on the blacktop roof where we danc ed salsa. We were at Hav an a Nights, one of the parties Santos and his crew hosted in the summer, bringing a taste of Cuba to Toronto. Our backdrop: the downtown skyline.

When a friend broke up with her long-time boyfriend, I asked her what she would do next. She replied, “I need to take some alone time and figure myself out.” An admirable thing to do, especially right after breaking up with the boyfriend.

I had the honour of attending the very first Steubenville Conference in Toronto. I wasn’t really sure what to expect, but as the weekend unfolded it was evident this wasn’t going to be an ordinary youth conference and that I was about to be changed spiritually. Together with young people from all over Ontario, I came face to face with God.

It’s June and I’m headed towards my final year in university. Rather than simply enjoying my summer like my peers, I’m looking at my options. 

I was one of an estimated 23,000 people of all ages and religious backgrounds on Parliament Hill for the 17th annual National March for Life, joining a busload of students from Msgr. Percy Johnson, Don Bosco and Fr. John Redmond Catholic Secondary Schools who joined the Salesians from St. Benedict’s parish.

I tried to learn French in university once, only to scrape by with a C+. Languages are not my forte, linguistically speaking. After reading Gary Chapman’s book The 5 Love Languages: The Secret to Love that Lasts, I discovered a kind of language I enjoy learning: love.

I’ve always been one for planning my life ahead of schedule, even years in advance. I tend to go overboard often. The evidence is all over the day planner I use at school: a scribble in the margins here, a small number there, all marking just how long I have until the important dates coming up on my life, like graduation or signing up for classes for my first semester of university.

A jar of freshly squeezed juice or a bowl of fruit are my constant companions as I walk through my school or pause for lunch. The lingering smell of sweet oranges, berries or bananas often draw the attention of those around me.