Stan bustled about, getting the cornbread out of the oven, pouring water, and ladling up big bowls of the chili. He put a bowl of grated cheddar on the table.
“Smells wonderful,” Doug said.
“Okay. Come sit.”
As the two sat, Stan put his hands out to Doug, who knew what that meant. He grasped both of Stan’s hands as the host said a familiar grace: “Give us grateful hearts, Our Father, for all thy mercies, and make us ever mindful of the needs of others.”
“Amen.”
They passed the cheddar, the basket with squares of corn bread, butter, and apple butter. “Dig in, my friend,” Stan said.
“This is real comfort food, Stan,” Doug said, “and it’s all delicious. Thanks for having me.”
Stan put his spoon down and looked at Doug with his blazing blue eyes. “When I saw you in church, heard you rea
