Seems like it was just yesterday that I was clearing the plates from Yom Kippur’s break the fast and it’s already Thanksgiving. There’s always this frisson of apprehension when voicing aloud my gratitude for blessings given. A superstitious holdover down through the generations: we spit three times: ppp…ppp…ppp… to scare away the evil eye lest she snatch from us all we hold dear.

I am grateful to each and every one of you who stops by this space, to the ones who leave comments, and to the ones who don’t, but remain loyal readers just the same. I am grateful to the editor who has published me in Good Housekeeping and to David Crumm and his crew at Read the Spirit who are stalwart supporters and imminently my new publisher. Thanks to my critique group for their inimitable blend of gentle yet spot-on criticism and praise and to others who have invited me to speak to their communities or requested copies of past columns, stories and sermons.

Wishing you all safe travels whether you journey near or far this Thanksgiving holiday. Enjoy your meals, conversations, time with your loved ones, and I’ll see you back here next week.

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7 thoughts on “ppp…ppp…ppp…

      1. Tamara

        Wow! You still look like a spring chicken. I am curious to look for photos of me 10 years ago. I bet I doidn’t look like a teenager!

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