There is something here
Something about freedom
To see where I was
And what I am walking into
And to see all the lies
Dissipate.
To know that it is not of me
To know that I could not have done this
And to know that everything
That is drawn out of me
Is burned and refined
Not for me,
But for Him.
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“Ima” (The Prodigal’s Mother)
Birth is the only jubilant end To one life being shared with another. Not so joyous is the letting go that comes after. No one told me what...
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Goodbye individual state rights. Well... eventually. I didn't think there were so many stupid people in Missouri.
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A very late night conversation with a couple of my friends on New Years Eve/Day inspired me to write this post. It's something I don...
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Since I posted all of my pet peeves, I thought I'd make a list of some of the things I really, really love. Here goes.. - The fact that ...