Grace P. Cho
Grace P. Cho
Grace is a writer, wife to a chef husband, and mama to two littles. She is learning to love what must be done in the mundane rhythms of life, and her favorite way to connect with people is to gather them around the table and fill their bellies with good eats and their souls with words of truth. Writing has become her way of worshiping God and leading others, and she hopes people will feel welcome not only in her home but also in the places she writes for online. Aside from Grace Table, she a contributing writer and editor at The Mudroom, and she writes on her own blog at www.gracepcho.com. You can follow her on Instagram for glimpses of her everyday life, which include books, nature, her children, and of course, food.
4 posts
Manna in the Desert

I stand in the shower and let the hot water soak into my hair and run over my ears. The rest of the world gets muffled, and I find the quiet and space I long for there. No one is climbing me, touching me, needing me, calling me over and over again. I inhale the steam and exhale the weight off my shoulders, and I will the 5 minutes of...

10 3
Finding Hope in an Unlikely Place

I started running around the neighborhood to train for my marathon back in November. Over the months I watched Christmas lights get strung up on homes and trees. I noticed as the neighbors dutifully took them down come January, though I still see some hanging lifeless and dull. I smelled the delicious scent of burning wood in the evenings and the welcoming aroma of spicy fish stew one morning. When...

2 1
Love Can Be Prickly

I like easy love. Easy love is loving people who are like you. They think like you and have the same opinions as you. You might share the same passions, have the same political views, laugh over the same jokes. It’s easy to love them because there is common ground, a bond that connects you without friction. Easy love is comforting and comfortable, and we all need people who fall...

7 4
Reconciliation through my Son

Tears stream down his face as he reaches his arms out to me. Mommyyyy! Huuuggg! Huuuggg! My jaw, my arms, my heart are clenched. Anger pulsates through my body, and I refuse to oblige. He’s two years old, and I should know better, but in the moment I want him to bear the consequences of his disobedience. I want him to know things can’t be fixed so quickly when the...

6 4