on permission, entitlement and calling

I place two fresh-baked muffins on the bench, and wait for the smell to waft through the house. Before long two hopeful pairs of eyes greet me, with “Mum, may we please have a muffin?” The gift of writing to me often feels like that fresh-baked muffin sitting on the bench and I am the hopeful … Continue reading on permission, entitlement and calling