faith

My Table is My Altar

by

When I need to call upon inner strength, I often think about my mother’s hands. In the ten years since she passed away, I can no longer remember her exact smell. Nor can I see her face as clearly in my mind as I once was able. I see it blurred, soft and undefined, like looking at someone through a frosted pane.

From Preachy
On July 5, 2021
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