Just about nine months ago—the Tuesday after Valentine’s Day, to be exact—I hit a carload of nuns. It’s not like I was trying to or anything, though: It was the middle of the morning, a misty winter day. I was driving on a quiet street in the part of Washington, D.C. that’s sometimes called “Little [Read More...]
from
http://www.patheos.com/blogs/goodletters/2016/10/the-resurrection-volvo/
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