"Her children will rise up and call her Keeper of the Cheerios." Does crust belong on the sandwich? What exactly are the physics of keeping the peas from touching the mashed potatoes? Is there a better toy-in-the-toilet fisher-outer? Let's find out together!
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Mud bath
Mud. I've been wallowing in it lately. And I do mean wallowing, y'all. Scalp deep in the mud, not especially inclined to come out of it. I've jumped in with both feet. The mud that is resentment. And more than a little self-pity.
And I am waaaay down deep in there.
Shaking my head back and forth so it gets all in my hair. Wiggling around so it gets in all the nooks and crannies. Yes, there is no part of me that isn't touched by the mud somehow. In the ears, up the nose, in between the toes.
Funny.
How comfortable the mud is, I mean. It wraps you up and entices you to abandon all else but the wallowing. Keeps you focused on the mud, hopes you don't remember your direct line to clean Water.
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3 comments:
Oh dear.. conviction.. swimmingly in the mud just a few weeks back.. am I still? am I yet cleaned? am I now purified? I think that I may not be
*hangs head in shame*
Great Post btw
Blessings xx
Praying for you tonight, dear lady.
Dellaina
Praying for you my dear sweet friend!
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