Spring Newsletter 2026

On Sundays, Mary used to stand at the stove with something delicious simmering and three conversations going at once. Someone would be setting the table; someone else would be sneaking a taste. The grandchildren drifted in and out of the kitchen like it was the center of the universe, because for them, it was. That kitchen was Mary’s domain. Not because anyone assigned it to her, but because she loved taking care of people. When a new baby came home, Mary showed up with groceries and stayed to fold laundry. When someone had a hard week, she made soup and didn’t ask questions unless they wanted to talk. Her work in those moments was love made visible; it was tangible and steady, and given wholeheartedly. Cancer did not fit into that rhythm. The day she was diagnosed, the room felt smaller than it should have.

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