This last Saturday we went out to distribute supplies and build relationships like we always do. We didn’t go to Tarp Man’s bench this time. But as we drove home, I noticed he wasn’t warming the bench anymore.
Church was great today. We worshiped. Praised. Broke bread and even tipped those microscopic shot glasses of grape juice in remembrance of a man so full of love that the Heavens split upon His arrival. T
“Don’t drag it!” she shouted. “Those are turn of the century legs—you aren’t supposed to drag them,” the antique store owner declared. “Careful, you don’t wanna break them; you already have enough work on your hands as it is.”