Ash Wednesday. A chalked smearing of celebration tasted—now absent, ached for, and anticipated.
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cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
Ash Wednesday. A chalked smearing of celebration tasted—now absent, ached for, and anticipated.
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“Have you tried online dating?”
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We sat across the table from each other in a quaint hole-in-the-wall Japanese restaurant.
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I don’t know how to do this.
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“My family and I are looking for sex.”
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Lately, so much pain has confronted me. So many people I know facing such grief.
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This month I found myself reflecting on the children’s book, “Are You My Mother?” by P.D. Eastman.
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Friend? I would be less than honest if I didn’t say that the word “friend” provokes both terror and tenderness in my heart.
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The year was 2004. We had slept very little, but needed to board buses and vans for the trip to the airport to fly into the military town of Tindouf , Algeria.
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There are defining moments in my life that resonate daily.
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