Off The Shelf: At church, she found her own kind of salvation

Cole hunkered in his car seat, refusing to get out of the car. Ry was strapped in his stroller next to me, waiting. I smelled a poopy. Maybe it was just bad gas. No, definitely a poopy. I fished around in my large purse for a stray diaper, my hand passing my journal, hoping it wasn't one of Ry's explosive squirt-up-the-back-of-his-diaper-onto-his-clothes-poops.

By Victoria Patterson

October 25, 2009