At night, before bed, he thinks it's fun to start playing with his toys and
tearing around the living room.
Not exact matches
I've never had much luck sharing the Gospel with strangers, but I've shared it often
around my kitchen table, in the Eucharist, at baby showers, in long summer nights on the back porch talking with friends, at coffee shops, at funeral homes, in
living rooms, through
tears, through music, through celebrations.
Now the two of them, Tweed and Papa, who sits in his chair like a busted old jazz musician,
torn around the edges but straight with dignity, spend much time together in Papa's
living room.
Students
around the
room are moving in their seats, opening and closing books,
tearing out sheets of paper, while the air conditioner kicks on and whirs to
life, making the papers and posters hung on the walls flutter in all areas of periphery.