“Just pick up fast food!”

My husband was out of town.

Gosh, if only it were that easy.

I feel like I’ve spent adulthood explaining this notion of “privilege” without realizing I’ve even done so. 

Fast food?

That’s privilege, at least for my family. 

We have a child with severe food allergies so “fast food” is not an option.  

Instead, we have to plan painstakingly ahead. 

“You were meant to be her mother.”

Was I, really?

What did I do in my past life to deserve this honor?

That’s what I would like to know. 

It’s not her fault and it’s not mine either, or maybe it is- I don’t even know anymore. 

What I DO know is that giving grace to any and everyone is the very best thing we can ever do. 

Because, how otherwise, could we ever truly know their story?

We cannot. 

So, we give grace. 

Always, we give grace.