I walked into the early morning cold, locking the door of our rowhouse behind me. The city is empty on weekend mornings: quiet and still. A thin layer of frost glazed the sidewalks, already melting where the sunrise fell between the buildings.
I felt a bit nervous. The walk from my house to the Young Women’s Christian Association was about six blocks, and I had never volunteered there before.
I recently wrote some reflections over at The High Calling. This first one examines how even the smallest things we do are important. You can read the rest of the post HERE.