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This school year marks the forty-fifth anniversary of the first organized class I ever taught.
Now I understand why my mentor and dear friend, Albert Boothby, wondered so often how his first students’ lives had turned out.
Today I found a note, a few pages down on the pad of paper I keep in the kitchen, that my daughter, Joy, had left a few weeks ago during her visit.
Is there anyone out there who doesn’t like discovering loving-kindness waiting in not so normal places?
Today I read the annual report of a company that provides 150M dollars of programs to children who are abused or neglected. The words love or loving-kindness were never mentioned.
After the head is healed, I wonder where the heart is sent?

