Over our crafting we talked about life, holiday plans, beloved family and friends, desires and struggles. Our words and laughter drifted out and fell upon our working hands like the drizzling rain outside the tent. And when we would go home to hang the wreath, all the love and fun would be there, hanging up with against the fragrant branches and decorative bows.
I was a like a small child on a safari sitting in that taxi, watching in wonder as the lights of the concrete jungle bounced off the glass of the window.
This is something that brought us together as young girls 20 years ago and again and again as women, and most importantly, as mothers.
It’s true that most of my friends and family are watching my children grow up from this tiny illuminated rectangle in their hands. In some ways this… Read more “Bringing Back The Village”