Lord, please save my parents, my brother. Sometimes that's all I can think about. And other times, I fail them so miserably. Lord, love them. Forgive me, and love them.
The experience that we have of our lives from within, the story we tell ourselves about ourselves in order to account for what we are doing, is fundamentally a lie—the truth lies outside, in what we do .The first story that we told ourselves about ourselves in order to account for what we were doing happened at the Fall ,
Then he said to the woman, “What is this that you have done?” The woman said, “The serpent deceived me, and I ate.”The story that the woman told happened to be a lie. Most stories are. But there is one true story. It is the one told not by us or about us, but to us.
B: So yeah, we have a lot of very smart people...The first and great ENFP influence of my life, and my INTJ father's best friend. Dad taught me to tell stories, and Grandpa taught me to listen. :)
G: And you're one of them.
Words sound so much better proceeding from my mouth than they do from my fingers. As I type, I realize the objective blandness of my thoughts--the all too real way they fall flat on the page.
Here are my thoughts. Have them. Don't want them? I throw them at you. Ha!Sometimes all the mute need is a muse.