"I could feel hot, salty tears coming down my face. I sat and cried silently... I was scrunching myself up against the wall as far as I could. All of a sudden, someone from behind us taps on the guy’s shoulder..."
"I could feel hot, salty tears coming down my face. I sat and cried silently... I was scrunching myself up against the wall as far as I could. All of a sudden, someone from behind us taps on the guy’s shoulder..."
"I don’t know who this lady is... she waved at him and he made his way up to her. I thought their interaction would be the same as last time but I was wrong. "
Why do we have no problem praying for God to heal a child’s cancer, but feel odd asking Him to fix our stuffy nose? Do we assume He’s too busy to deal with the little stuff, or are we limiting what He’s capable of and what He cares about?
"We all would rather monologue then dialogue and this means we have to be content with our stereotypes about each other. It’s nonsense, and I’m opting out."
"I had spent over thirty years thinking I was the man (or men) who left me. That my identity was somehow built around that. The devil had spent years whispering in my ear that I was the girl who was easy to give up..."
