Prisms

I’m switching out the warm for the cold.  Clothes, in a bucket.

 Today, I wore a tiny ‘L’ sticker on my new shirt until the last 20 minutes of my day when I realized it was there.  Semi-conspicuous.

I almost cried when I realized I had made a mistake.  An unusual error of dyslexic proportions.

First day of the new job, I ran into the old man.  Previously, I cleaned his apartment.  Without a confrontational utterance, he apologized for what he had said to me.  For asking me for a nice, warm kiss.  He repeated it word for word.

Days turn into years.  Sometimes the hours are so strange.  Do we laugh?  Do we cry.

I was right.  You can’t have a healthy and flourishing relationship with your Savior if you do not spend alone time with him.  To know his heart.  You can’t expect others to like you more if you keep silent on importantly debatable issues.  Music does affect the heart.  What you see in movies will come back to visit you.  And yes, girls are mean.  It doesn’t matter where you are, who you are, or what you believe.  Surely, where there is a conglomerate of femininity, there will be hurt.

What’s the worst, is the secret resolve of the daughters of earth to look down upon an unsuspecting sister.  Unspoken.  She, the one lacking the common graces, etiquette, or vernacular will suffer indeed.  She’s the outcast.  The one on whom uneasy tension is to be released.  She will be the one who holds the weight of her sisters’ cruelty.  It is all unspoken.  Sisters against sisters.  Daughters against daughters.  In families.  And out.

Days turn into years.  Sometimes the hours are so strange.  Do we laugh?  Do we cry?

Women,

There’s healing.  And there’s grace for a new way.

Days turn to hours in Joy’s unending embrace.  Let’s make our Father proud.  Let’s make them wish they knew our love.

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