i would stand in my Sunday leotards after church on a curb with my pastor-father and mum and my brother and sisters and we’d hold signs that declared truth in magic marker letters, and then we’d go for day-old donuts, until the next year, when we’d do it all over again. and that’s all i knew about abortion. that the people who did it were evil and that holding these signs made us better somehow. good enough, anyway, to warrant day-old donuts.

(for the rest of this post, won’t you follow me here, to A Deeper Story? thank you… –but first, don’t forget to link up, below!! 🙂 love you, friends.)

1. link up a post (old or new) between wednesday and friday that you feel is ‘broken’ or ‘imperfect’ or somehow redemptive
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