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When I was a child, my faith life was whatever my parents taught me. There was a loving God, and rules, and if you did the right thing, and helped your neighbor, all would be well. If my early-adult life was a house, I would have painted one room ‘religion’, another ‘family’, another ‘work’, another... Continue Reading →

Memory

When my youngest sister was five, and I was thirteen, I taught her to speak a couple of French phrases one Fall afternoon. I distinctly remember it because it was such a cozy scene, she and I cuddled in her little bed and hearing her say, “Ma crayon est rouge,” in the sweetest little-kid accent.... Continue Reading →

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