I believe in grace because I share my home with proof of its existence. We got rid of our TV service a few months ago. The quiet is strange, but nice. I have no idea how I survived the first three years of my life without my sister. It seems as impossible as living without lungs. I published a book a while back, and I want to write a second, more personal one. But I’m having trouble getting started, because I’m afraid everything I write will be wrong, or self serving, or immature. I am a recovering alcoholic and bulimic….