What We Carry Forward

I kept the coffee urn from the old church kitchen. It’s dented now, but it still holds heat.

Every Thursday I fill it for the pantry line. People come for soup, but they stay for the quiet.

One woman brought her grandson last week — he asked why we don’t sing. I told him we listen instead.

That’s how we catch the falling — not with voices, but with presence. The urn doesn’t preach. It just keeps giving what it has.