Katrina's Blog

The Papers from the Gray House with the Wooden Door

One day, a case worker took Freddy to a gray house with a wooden door. Freddy was scared. He did not smile. Who would he see behind the door? Would they have crackers? Would there be a soft bed for him to sleep in with his gray blanket with the yellow edge?

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Hospitality in the Raw: Part 3

I’ve been mulling over the exhaustion I experience after serving people, or just after caring for a high-octane toddler. Is that what hospitality is? Is that what service is? Is that what raising a child is? Giving until your throat hurts and your back aches? Facing deep weariness, but then remembering that you are greatly privileged to be part of something splendid and un-reproducible?

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