It is a rainy Monday, misty and I can hear the sound of the wet pavement as the cars zip by the highway outside my temporary dwelling. The fall colors are emerging and regaling us with the crayon box of God's creation. The temperature is starting to feel like sweater-weather, for real this time. I gaze out my window and during these last few days of October, my thoughts often turn back to that girl I was when October became the darkest month of my life. Would she sit with me on the balcony, sipping this brown sugar latte with the touches of nutmeg and cinnamon? How would she tell me about her thoughts and dreams when all around her were the moments of disregard? What did she gaze out over a different balcony into tomorrow and hope differently for her future. She comes to my find often, these 42 years since her world shifted, and I look back through the lens of time and have questions for the ones who knew - and didn't rescue her. Growing up Baptist was filled with the do'...
life, really, and a latte by Tayé Foster Bradshaw