Often when I see only a glimpse of a scene, or a reflection in glass, it strikes me as a doorway to another world—a magical place I long to go. The same sort of feeling a favorite book does for me—like Heidi taking me up the Swiss Alps, or Ash and Anjuli-Bai from Far Pavilions whisking me off to long-ago India. From my living room couch I can look into my kitchen and see the glass door to the pantry. This is often what I see when I’m having my devotions, while I have a cup of tea in my…

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