We sit around the table, the last bits of dinner drying on my aunt’s good china. Candles flicker and Christmas lights resting on branches of evergreen twinkle from the living room. Our attention is drawn to the rocks that sat on our napkins when we first sat down for Christmas dinner.
I hold the rock, knowing what is coming. Dreading what is coming. Before dinner my aunt asked me if I would share a bit about the word Ebenezer. If I would share with everyone what it means. I hold the rock in my hand knowing that each rock is to be an Ebenezer for each of us at the table. That we will share with each other what this Ebenezer is to remind us of.
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