I couldn’t get the song out of my head. It haunted me as I walked the mountain road this past week—huffing the final incline up our driveway—and while driving to and from a joyful Thanksgiving with family. O come, O come, Emmanuel, And ransom captive Israel, That...
“Emmanuel! Wait! Stop!” A woman’s frantic shout, and the pit-pat-pit-pat sound of a child’s sandals hitting pavement, came from behind me. I was standing on a busy, New York City street corner, staring at the “do not walk” hand sign but turned to confirm what I...
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