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Elizabeth Ross's avatar

I see the swallow’s nest in the corner of my covered porch, and chipmunks, too. Sometimes a fox sleeps in our garden and I see the soft, smushed place where she rested.

I see bitterness and confusion swell up in hearts nearby but I also see the head of lettuce a neighbor dropped off from her garden. I see the photos sent back and forth between long distance friendships. Even with longing in my heart I can still see grace.

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