Broken record pleading. Same old insecurity. Inadequacy.
Pride.
Doing a number on my thinking.
Fiery-dart target practice, feels like, somedays.
Age-old questions on repeat.

Broken record pleading. Same old insecurity. Inadequacy.
Pride.
Doing a number on my thinking.
Fiery-dart target practice, feels like, somedays.
Age-old questions on repeat.

It’s no secret. There’s strategy in advertising. A bid for my buy-in.
“If you conform, you’ll truly be successful.” In your field. Home. Community. Life.
“Purchase that to make your life complete.” “Wear this particular clothing line to fit in and stand out.”
“You’ll never move ahead if you don’t hold to this worldview.”
So they say. Or insinuate. Messaging at every turn.

Death is the deep shadow.
Chasm of uninvited separation. Abrupt change. And tangible loss.
I miss Mom’s voice. Her hugs. Her laugh. And her interest in every little detail. Her focus on what is true and good. Her enthusiasm for learning and growing. Her love for God, His Word. And her example in faithful prayer.
This week would have been her 93rd birthday on earth.
