A place called Home
I was standing in Drinklings, one of our local coffee shops the other day... a shop where I don't have to say "Oat milk, please" because they know me well enough to know about my food allergy... a shop where they ask me if everything is okay if I order tea instead of coffee because they know my normal preferences... a shop where they ask if I want a "real cup" when I'm by myself but they don't even bother when I've got the kids with me because they know I need a to-go cup with a lid just in case somebody hits my drink with a stray elbow. I was standing there, waiting for my Lavender Oat milk Latte, when I looked down at the "frequent customer punch card." And I realized, in the very near future, I will have a half-filled punch card that doesn't get redeemed. When we leave Wilmore in a few months (prayerfully and Lord willing), I will probably have a half-full card still in my wallet that I won't be able to use since I don't kno...