Groggily walking through the kitchen, I buttered three toasts, drizzled honey, and cored apples, quartering them. Photo Credit: Flickr user Amanda Slater, Creative Commons cc license Strapping one blonde-haired nephew into his blue high chair, I watched the two older boys climb into their chairs, cheerfully talking. Hot toast crumbled and steamed on small white…

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Under a torn moon in a black sky, I push my cart. Groceries rattle against rustling paper bags. I’ve been wondering this for several days now. How do we live bravely? That’s my word for the year: Brave. While I don’t think of myself as a fearful person, I’m realizing how often stories of great…

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