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A Winter Garden: Welcoming Grace

The hum of the twenty-year old refrigerator finally shuts off, the cottage goes blessedly silent, and I feel my body relax. In the quiet of a rainy morning, I hear only the irregular staccato cadence of water falling from eaves, boughs, and leaves, rain tapping on the kitchen skylight, and a murmur that one might

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Gratitude Practice: A Little Journal of Blessings

With a familiar, faint scratching sound to its gliding, the gold nib of my old fountain pen reached the bottom of the last page, a string of black ink letters and words in its wake. Seated on the floor, I closed the little book and set it on the white brick hearth next to the

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