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I wait. Little grains of time brush over my face.
And Craig all the while continues life as if he never knew of a trip to Kenya, as if God hadn't closed the door because of me. I am jealous. His burden is light. He laughs easily.
And I wait.
A weight inside of me, now porous and rough, has rubbed angry spots smooth. Pumice. Bit by bit, a cavern of desire grows inside me all around the fear of him going to Africa. Somehow the wearing away has made a space inside larger. Still I wait. I release the extra lung full of air I've held in reserve. I breathe, awed at the deference God has given me.
I wait. Weightless.
Now, I see my move. It is an offering.
Child, do you want your name on something great?
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