I Don’t Do Needy

I don’t do needy. Which means, I don’t do sick. I don’t do broken bones. And I don’t do hospitals. At least, I didn’t do those things until four months ago. In late March I was bustling around a friend’s kitchen, blending graham crackers and dumping crumbs; all to whip together a graham cracker crust.…

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Help Deferred Makes the Heart Sick

“I can only do it for $15 an hour and .25 cents a mile. At my age, what you are offering to pay me is really low and I could make more money doing something else.” The text came across my phone as I was on a date with my husband and immediately tears flooded…

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The Healing Power of Comfort

My gut clenched as I stepped through the sliding doors under the bright Emergency Room sign. “My husband was brought here by ambulance; can you tell me where he is?” I hurried down the maze of hallways and curtained rooms, trying in vain to breathe some calm into my anxious body.

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