But I have taken off all my clothes
and am lean as a strawberry and knots couched in a teachable moment.
For Christ to take up residence, your plate must stay full.
I ate my food. I drank my juice. I rinsed my dishes.
Sometimes all the men go out into the weather until all the roads are impassible and
limbs fall off from exposure.
Long suffering is the flood of the matriarchs.
The matriarchs are mighty to save.
The matriarchs are miserable and mad.
Our compassion is in rocks as ore is in rocks.
One wants space from the matriarchs,
where space is actually death.
This is the grace of sacrifice!
When can the matriarchs feel good about grace?
Pity the self.
At least we have named our stories “fear” and “isolation.”
Jesus who loves you needs you to eat this, or you will be punished the most.