Always room

Rev. Cheryl Cruce Columnist It was simple in structure, made by my daddy’s hands and set by my mamma’s love. Often it held only cheese grits and toast, with homemade blackberry jam… or macaroni and cheese, with fluffy white biscuits. There was never a question about what time we were to arrive or where we sat. The conversation was gentle and caring—caring about each other’s day. By the time we gathered, the seating was full… but never so full that another was not welcomed. My pare