My history does not lend itself to be very forgiving or much less welcoming of others into my kitchen.
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cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
My history does not lend itself to be very forgiving or much less welcoming of others into my kitchen.
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God always comes through for me. Not always when I think I need Him. And certainly not always in the ways I ask or demand.
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There’s something about a wedding—something so hopeful as the wide-eyed bride and groom stand face to face, hand in hand, and declare, “Until death do us part.”
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I was in my wedding gown, veil in place, bouquet in hand, just minutes from my walk down the aisle when Mother entered my dressing room.
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I loved my mother but she never was a safe person.
Read More“You deserve better than…” My heart perked up when I read those words from my friend.
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My heart is full as I remember all that December means to me.
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