Tag Archives: Mother

her hands

My hands are much like my mother’s. Average in size, with gnarly knuckles and age spots galore.  But my mother’s hands were much more talented than mine ever have been or ever will be.  At least they were when she … Continue reading

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seeing jesus

I arrived early in the morning to begin my day as chaplain on duty. After checking in I made my way to the pediatric chronic care unit to check on Martin. Martin was thirteen years old and, due to many … Continue reading

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