I saw you on Sunday morning.
I watched you walk down the aisle at least three times. On the first trip, you held a squirmy baby in one arm and a diaper bag in the other. Your second exodus involved a recalcitrant toddler, howling like a wolf at the moon. You made your last trip carrying the aforementioned baby and a nursing apron.
I observed the frustration in your eyes. You might have been asking yourself, “What’s the point of being here
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