My youngest daughter raced across the polished linoleum of the nursing home’s dining room to get me. We had come to serve dessert to the residents, but this sounded urgent.
“Mommy!” Anna tugged my shirt sleeve. She cupped hands around her mouth to whisper in my ear: “Katherine told me that she wants cake, but her teeth fell out. Can you help me put them back in?”
I’m telling the rest of this story today over at High Calling Blogs. We’re talking about we find ourselves more fully when we make time for our oldest neighbors — the ones with false teeth and age-spotted hands and wheelchairs and wobbly voices.
Will you join me there by clicking here?