Texts: Isaiah 65: 13-25; Luke 21: 5-19
Every once in a while when I feel sorry for myself -- that’s not too often -- I think about the lady in front of the deli near the Federal building where I get my honey ginger tea. Sitting in a wheelchair she has a paper cup nestled between her thighs because her legs are amputated, I guess from diabetes. She always has the same coat and hat and doesn’t say much really. My practice is to never give money but I always get her a cup of coffee, light and sweet, and a buttered roll. I have absolutely no idea of what her name is. I’ve just never asked. She smiles and chats sporadically with the two or three other street people who frequent that space near the corner. Whatever has happened to her in the past, she is certainly experiencing some tough times now.
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