Homeless

It is Thursday. It is afternoon. I am working on my book when my phone beeps the reminder for an outreach to people living in homelessness.  I shut it off and keep working. The volunteer I usually partner with is off tonight. I feel no need to rush.

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Ecclesiastes

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.  —Ecclesiastes 3:1 The honeysuckles are lush along the roadside as I drive north from the house to the grocery store, the woods on either side reminding me of home—my old home.

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