A slice of pie with memories

The sun was already warming up the sidewalk by the time I stepped out of the car, the kind of day where the air feels like a gentle hug instead of a slap. I had cookies in one hand, scripture cards in the other, and that familiar nudge from the Lord telling me, *Slow down. Listen.

So I did. I walked toward a group of homeless friends gathered by the brick wall—some stretched out in the shade, some sitting, some waving like I was the afternoon entertainment arriving right on schedule.

“Alright, everyone,” I said with a grin. “I’ve got a question today. Childhood Thanksgiving memories. Hit me with the good stuu."