Giving readers a glimpse of this truth was one of my main reasons for writing the novel The Song of Sadie Sparrow; here's a short passage illustrating the affectionate fellowship that can be found in such living arrangements. It's my prayer that the best of these homes will still be available by the time my generation needs them -- and yours.
“It’s too bad you didn’t go to Bible study,” Sadie said to her tablemates after the teacher had left.
“He limps,” said Gladys. “Did you know that? Why does he limp?”
“I don’t know,” Sadie said, “and frankly I hadn’t noticed. What difference does it make?”
“I already know all about the Bible,” Catherine said. “I just wish someone would study Mrs. Eddy’s writings with me.”
“How about that practitioner of yours?” Gladys was looking down her substantial nose at Catherine, not really very interested in ultimate truth herself, but apparently sure that Catherine’s idea of it was wrong. “You’re always sending her money. How come she never comes to see you if she’s so great?”
Catherine blinked hard and stared at her coffee.
“It was very interesting,” Sadie said. “He went over the history of the Bible—it’s just fascinating.”
“How many were there, dear?” Eva asked.
“Just me. I guess I have my own personal tutor, unless someone else decides to take the plunge.”
“Oh oh,” Gladys teased. “Looks like Sadie’s got herself a young man.”
They all laughed gaily. Laughter was becoming a habit for Sadie, it seemed, and it made her very happy.
From The Song of Sadie Sparrow, pages 89-90.