Whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood remains in me and I in him. John 6:56

A year ago, when my then twelve-year-old son, Zack, asked me, right before Communion, if he could drink the consecrated wine, I was caught like a deer in head lights. There’s a strong line of alcoholism that runs through my husband’s family tree, and mine. That heredity thing scares me. I was hoping I could postpone any alcohol passing my kids’ lips for a very, very long time. But here I was with just a split-second to make my decision.

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