A lesson in mortality

It was a good spring day, at least until the late afternoon. The Sunday service at Emmaus, the little house church to which we belong, had been particularly helpful; afterwards I had been able to catch up on some necessary school work. By 4:30, the only thing left to do before my husband, Richard, and I went out to a pleasantly anticipated supper at some friends' house was to deliver a letter to the neighbors.

 

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