A spice drawer

Confession: Most of my best ideas come straight from someone else. Here’s one from my friend Shaunda, who does not follow her own advice. (There’s a reason–In her kitchen, the drawers are bigger than she is. And they number exactly three. So she cheerfully hauls them around by the scruff of the neck, and passes

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Communion

Confession: I wonder if I should even be here. I am a creature of weakness and sin, so much flesh mixed in with new born spirit. I come to this table ashamed, uncertain. All is mixed, the singing about blood and love and the passing of picture books back and forth between squirmy children and the

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Longing

Confession: There’s nothing like looking at old pictures for awakening pain. Today my heart hurts for things that have passed beyond my reach. The Maple Street days, my house clean and organized My three babies—the bright eyes and faces, the velvet skin Cuddles with nieces and nephews far away My sister with hair

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