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“I really want that juice,” my 3-year-old son whispered as the communion trays were passed.
“We will talk about it later,” I whispered back, bowing my head.
“Drink this cup in remembrance of me,” the pastor repeated the words Jesus spoke at the Last Supper (except in English), and in unison the congregation drank their shots of grape juice.
All across the sanctuary you could hear the familiar click of tiny plastic cups settling into specially-sized holders on the back of each pew.
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