My son hops out next, hair tangled, t-shirt, dirty pants, satchel hanging across his shoulder and a bright yellow bandana tied around his neck. He is so happy and proud.
My heart sinks. Not this. Not for picture day.
In these moments, instead of waiting, I want to fight. I want to fight like hell and tell-yell at God that this plan for earth and the beings that inhabit is idiotic. It’s stupid. It makes no sense.
Why risk my father’s pacemaker not working by posting such insanity?
I made a promise to myself that I would post something at least one time(ish) per week (or every other week as reality seems to be). And this, dear readers, is what you get as I could not think of anything else to write.
Do I matter to Jesus? Likely. Do I care? Yes and no.