PART 3   I stared at the hospital bracelet in the lunchbox until the letters of my own name blurred.

But healing did not ask me to pretend.

It only asked me to keep walking toward the truth without becoming cruel.

On the tenth anniversary of Grace’s Table, we served dinner to more than two hundred people.

The church basement was full of noise: chairs scraping, children laughing, volunteers calling names, coffee pouring, bread baskets passing hand to continue reading …