to know what it would feel like to open my closet door, and one by one, take out a big, dirty, black bag and empty its contents all over my front yard for all of the neighbors and people driving by to see. Oh the relief, the breath of fresh air I could inhale having a clean, organized closet. But such a cleansing feeling comes with a price, the pointed fingers, icy stares, and echoing whispers . That is a price I regrettably cannot afford to pay at the moment. Dusty and packed ceiling high, my closet will continue to stay for now. Hopefully, the hinges holding the door are strong enough to withstand the pressure for a while longer. I need another closet.Forgiveness. Such a common, understated word. An abused word above all else. I've always considered myself to be a forgiving person. But the fact that my closet is so full to the point that the walls around it are starting to crack with pressure proves that I am not forgiving, I am just yet another abuser of the word. How precious and powerful, the action of true forgiveness. Like boiling water transforming to steam, rising into the air, never to be seen or heard of again. Gone. As if it never existed. How wonderful, a clean closet and, bonus, a clean front yard as well! Like all good things, this isn't eas
y to achieve. This true forgiveness doesn't come from a human's natural ability.God fills so many voids in us, that we don't even realize or give Him credit and thanks for. Live in me so that I can forgive.
