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Even for One
What if all our efforts yield only small results? Do we fall short of the mark? Or could it be that smallness is the whole point?
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Home Fires
Keeping the fires we built first burning brightly.
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In Praise of Lament
I wonder if sometimes we rush through the broken places too quickly. What would it mean to sit in the unfinished, to put words to our pain? What would it mean to linger in the lament?