Today is Liz Brucker’s birthday and what I see in my mind’s eye is the two of us with silly smiles walking arm in arm down an avenue on the east side of Manhattan in the early spring of 1986. We had just seen the movie Hannah and Her Sisters and were at that very moment, a moment that I can replay in my mind as long as I am conscious, happy. It is in the bond between two people where the theology of small things reveals itself. Liz, my best friend, died 25 years ago. In the turbulence of young adulthood, Liz and I came to see that the meaning of life is in the living of it.