When We Lose Connection

  The AT&T technician came yesterday morning–yes, a Sunday–to fix our DSL. We kept losing our connection. By the time he left, it was too late to make it to church 20 miles away. I really wanted to go because I’d hardly been in the last few weeks–no, months, what with being gone so much. But we had time, with time to spare, to make it into town just five miles away. To the church my husband grew up in. Where his mom elbowed his dad in the ribs many times during a sermon. The one we used to go to when we first moved home from Georgia. Where I learned to play bells and spoke at my first women’s retreat. Where my daughter was Mary in the Christmas play. Where we’ve since lost connections with so many. Like Phil. My...