Holy Gestures
Two Stories and a Poem
On Unicorns
On a Sunday like any other, I am scrambling after church to corral the littlest before she escapes from her class to run down the hall and through the chapel, which is usually occupied by penitents from the other ward. This of course means there is no post-meeting chit-chat, the kind my own mother would engage in for what seemed hours after c…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Wayfare to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.
 | A guest post by
|