Perfection is a place I like to call home. But I don't fit in there, as much as I would like to stay. Sometimes my words get too loud or my heart gets too wrinkled. I'm afraid I might say the wrong thing or make the wrong choice. So I linger on the front porch, waiting to see if I will be invited in. But perfection does not come calling.
"But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us."
2 Corinthians 4:7
3 days ago