Like a faberge egg. Like a Christmas bulb. Like blown glass.
Toughen up, they say. Get a grip. Drive on.
You think so? Is that the way?
Or should I turn it into a deep compassion? Press into God and allow him to fill every nook and cranny with his Holy Gorilla Glue?
A hardened heart. I longed for it so I could be free.
But, is it freedom?
I think I’ll stick with Fra-Gee-Lay and run after that heavenly reward.