Who’s eating my pastries?
The place I lived when I was ten years old I remember most. I call it my “village.” I learned much about life there. There I learned that if I lie, I turn into an enemy of God. That would be a really big deal. As my parents put it, the last thing anyone would want is to become an enemy of God. I paid close attention to that. Kept that in mind as long and as intensely as I could. Then … there were the pastries. My dad had the habit of every so often visiting the bakery and get