Tapioca pudding and serving the community? I’ll connect the two eventually.
See, little sister had pure white socks with a frill of lace that folded down neatly at the ankles. Mine were plain white, except the time in my fifth year when Mom couldn’t find white my size. Instead, she bought a pale lavender pair with sprigs of the tiniest rose buds ringing the top. Those Sunday socks delighted me. Unwittingly, they taught me something about the sacred.