“Hey, do you think you can get this stain out, Mum?” He handed me his T-shirt, still warm from his body, and I assured him that boiling water would make short work of blueberry juice on cotton. As the kettle boiled and the water poured and the steam rose from the kitchen sink, I thought… Continue reading What Does Hope Look Like? (Meditations Over a Stained T-Shirt)
Living Our Days 