Silence

It’s ten pm. My windows are open to let in the cool, evening air. But accompanying the breeze, is the battering sound of a rat-a-tat-tat helicopter circling overhead. The incessant noise fills every corner of my bedroom. Fills all the quiet space in my head. I can’t escape the sound.

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Prayer Plant

I live on the second floor of a twelve-story apartment building that has enough morning light to keep my one indoor plant alive—a prayer plant that seems to live in spite of me. It fans its leaves out in the morning and closes them up at night, most likely praying that I will remember to water it.

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Prayer Plant

I live on the second floor of a twelve-story apartment building that has enough morning light to keep my one indoor plant alive—a prayer plant that seems to live in spite of me. It fans its leaves out in the morning and closes them up at night, most likely praying that I will remember to water it.

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Feeding My Heart

It was 1985, I was thirty-five, a new volunteer with RESULTS, an advocacy organization committed to ending hunger and poverty. I jumped in feet first, determined to make a difference, though I knew nothing about poverty, Congress or how a bill was passed. Something I couldn’t name was driving me to be a change agent in the world.

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