THE GOLDEN RULE . . . under the Golden Arches

It Was One of those zingy fall afternoons for which New England is famous. The maples were on fire, and the air was as crisp as a Macoun apple. I flung on a sweat suit and loped through the Victory Gardens in Boston's Fenway.

I stopped frequently to smell the last of the roses and to chat with gardeners of many ages, shapes, and sizes—all committed to making the world a more beautiful place.

About half an hour into my expedition, I caught sight of those internationally renowned "golden arches," and was instantly hungry. I couldn't wait to plunge my teeth into a Big Mac and enjoy something deep and cool to drink.

Testimony of Healing
Divine help at the edge of a waterfall
November 26, 2001

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