Mourning with those who mourn…

“Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something…” So says Westley/the Dread Pirate Roberts to Princess Buttercup in the 1987 classic, “The Princess Bride.” While I don’t totally subscribe to the idea that life is ONLY pain, I can say from my own experiences, life involves a lot of pain… & I believe one of the greatest sources of pain comes from the grief & sadness which accompany the loss of a loved one.

Over the last year, I have walked through this thing called grief with several dear friends as someone dear to them – mother, husband, father, son, friend – died unexpectedly/without warning. These experiences of soul devastation have a way of shaking a person to the foundation of their very being, as life after the loss will never be the same as it was before. Living & loving in connected relationships leaves an indelible mark on us – & when our loved one is gone, life is not ‘ok’. Nothing is normal. Our emotions are all over the place. And anything more than merely gutting it through each day seems to be a pipe dream.

Places. Songs. Special events. Holidays. All things that remind us of our loved one, with a pain that mocks us with the fact that Nothing will ever be the same again. And then there’s the people – mostly well-meaning people that can see we’re in pain, & they’d like to do something about it, but they really don’t know what to say… & yet they say stuff anyways. These words can range from the silly, like, “The Lord just needed another angel in Heaven,” to religious clichés: “The Lord moves in mysterious ways,” or “One day you’ll know the reason God took your loved one.” Then there’s the insensitive, “How long are you going to grieve? Should you be past this already?” only to be topped by the horrifying: “God took your loved one because He knew that later in life they were going to fall away from Him,” or, “If only you had had enough faith, your loved one wouldn’t have died – it’s on you.” (I’ve personally heard each of these in reference to my brother’s death.) In the words of a great man, “If you don’t know what to say, limit your words.” (Thanks for that, Jerry Cook!)

Earlier this year, a dear friend lost her husband – & as part of her grieving, left her home town & went with her daughter to visit a collection of “safe people:” Close, supportive friends, the kind who have your back in any/every situation. TheBean & I count it an honor to be on this friend’s list of “safe” people. I can remember her sitting in our kitchen & matter-of-factly saying, “Tell me everything you know about grieving. Because I want to grieve well.”

Here’s the jist of what I said:

Our grieving, mourning, & hurting from the loss of a loved one can make us want to isolate. To withdraw. Turn inward. Pull away. Attempt to work through our grief solo. I get it. But I think doing that only makes it worse. As Christians, we (hopefully) have the benefit of a community of people that we’re walking through life with – people that we can celebrate life’s joys with… & people that we can mourn life’s great losses with as well.

I personally know how uncomfortable it is to be in a public place (like church) & be so overwhelmed & overcome with grief that the sobs just roll out, along with an endless supply of tears, & even a sense of pain that’s so fresh it feels like the loss just happened. Being around others in a situation like that can be awkward, because we’re totally vulnerable. Totally exposed. Raw. On our last nerve. And we hurt. And in that spot we cry & we pray & we ask God to make the hurt stop.

And then God answers our prayers with people.

  • People who will sit in silence with us, not having to say anything, but rather just offering the gift of their presence in our grief.
  • People who will hold & comfort us, no matter how long the grieving has been going.
  • People who aren’t in a hurry for us to “get past” or “get through” our grief – because they understand that even if its been years since the loss, the grief can still come in fresh & powerful waves.
  • People who will reminisce with us about our loved one. Who will tell stories about what they loved about them, about the things they did that impacted their life.
  • People who recognize that everywhere they go, they are a little piece of Jesus. And as such, when they come across others hurting, in pain, grieving, & broken, they can be a point of life & comfort.

There will always be those who say/do something that makes us wonder if its really a good idea to grieve/work through lives in the company of a community. I say It’s worth it. Maybe I won’t open up to everybody, but with the safe people, yeah, I do. And I will. Because when a friend comes alongside us in our grief, they shoulder some of the hurt & pain & loss… & it makes the situation just a little more bearable.

“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” Romans 12:15 NIV

Stopping to feel the feelings & other musings…

Not long ago I had a conversation with a dear friend who was sharing about how different her life was since she began taking the time to “feel her feelings,” especially the unpleasant ones: frustration, helplessness, sadness, grief, anger, hatred, disappointment, & the like. So, instead of ignoring her feelings, minimizing them, making herself so busy she’d ‘forget’ about them, &/or stuffing them in one of the seldom-visited compartments that exist in our minds, she (with the help of the healing of the Holy Spirit) began to feel them. To really experience, reflect upon, & invite God into the waterfall of her feelings & emotional responses to those feelings. Her verdict?

Feeling feelings is hard. A lot of the time it hurts. The feeling/reflecting/responding can lead to difficult & painful conclusions about the state of our lives & the relationships we’re in. They alert us that something needs to be worked through, acknowledged, addressed, &/or processed – activities that hold a promise of pain in the same way cleaning gravel out of a scraped knee does.

I know what she means. The first quarter century of my life I was “feelings challenged” – I didn’t know how to feel the negative feelings, let alone how to process through them. So they were ignored.

The problem is that the unresolved mess floated in my subconscious like a program running in the background of my brain, & whenever a situation would arise that remotely reminded me of any of those weak & negative feelings, I’d have a mini-meltdown. That looked like an outburst of anger, crying for “no reason,” depression, &/or the hopelessness of not knowing how to deal with myself or to make a change.

God provided an outlet of sorts… but it wasn’t like I asked Him to “search my heart” in order to heal & transform me. I prayed vague prayers, read my Bible, did church stuff. A lot of church stuff. Looking back, it was like keeping Him at arms length while asking for a miraculous work that would change my issues in a moment, when what was needed was a walk with Him through the difficulty, the darkness, the proverbial “valley of the shadow of death,” so that the underlying problems, areas of hurt & wounding, places of brokenness & pain could be healed.

The story of God’s work in this area of my life is a long one – & it’s not something I’m going to write about today. However, I do want to highlight one element that ended up playing a big role in this journey for me – reading through the Psalms.

For as long as I can remember, I have read the Psalms everyday – I’m a creature of habit, & my “habit” involved a plan that would take me through all 150 Psalms every month. (You take the day of the month – for example, today is the 6th, & you’d read Psalm 6, add 30 & read Psalm 36, add 30 & read Psalm 66 & so on.) The Psalms provided a back entrance into the conundrum of my feelings – because they are written RAW. The Psalmist (mostly David) pulls no punches in articulating to God EXACTLY what he’s feeling. And what ended up striking me as so odd was that God could HANDLE whatever David threw at Him. Nothing fazed God, even when David was angry, disappointed, frustrated, &/or feeling abandoned by Him. And as David processed through the Psalms, his own heart changed even if his circumstances didn’t. He started seeing himself & his life situations, as hard as they often were, as being firmly in the center of God’s hands. And by “feeling his feelings,” David got a perspective on those feelings that allowed him to keep moving forward as a “man after God’s own heart.” For some examples of David letting it all out, check out these PSALMS

David’s example has been a path for me over the last 15 years. And I’m thankful that God can “take” me when I’m at my very worst – He knows the depths of my heart – He loves me. And is healing me.

“You’re HIM!” & other fun stuff from the last week…

Thanksgiving afternoon, while theBean was working for theBux, I took theWeez & iDoey to the moving picture show. I happened to be wearing my Nevada polo; the special one that Opie gave to the PastyGangster for his birthday. It is the special one that I stealthily (& without remorse) took from his closet & owned by sheer will power. I wear that polo 2x/week, because I want to, and I can, and it makes it easy for me to decide what to wear when I don’t have theBean’s yay/nay sayer available. But I digress…

As we gave the nice lady taking tickets our stubs, she saw my shirt & said, “ohhhhh! You’re him.”

ME: “Hmmm. Who me? I’m who?”

LADY: “You’re the guy from the football team. The coach. The Nevada man.”

ME: “Uh, no. I’m not a football coach. I do have a Nevada polo, but that’s about it.”

LADY: “Oh, I know you people have to say such things in public, but I KNOW its you. You’re him.”

ME: “I’m not the football coach for Nevada. I promise.”

LADY: “You must be an assistant then. I can tell. You’re him!”

By this point, a line had formed behind me, drawing curiously (and uncomfortably I might add) close to hear just WHO the nice lady was talking to. TheWeez & iDoey were amused.

I just wanted to get my buttery popcorn & sit in the dark theater, eating to my hearts content. But the nice lady wasn’t going to let it go. So I said:

ME: “Ok. You’re right. You got me. I’m him.”

LADY: “I KNEW it! See (to everyone in the line) I KNEW it. It’s HIM!”

I thought that would be the end of it, but no…

LADY: “Soooo. Why did you kick that guy off the team?”

I knew she was talking about THIS STORY because I’d come across it earlier in the week. So I recapped what I’d read, and told her, “Happy Thanksgiving!”

My kids thought it was hilarious.

I got my remaining wisdom teeth removed on Monday, 11/21. When I was 16, I’d had the two from the left side of my mouth taken out, but time, $, and other things had kept me from getting the other two taken out. So, 24 years later, with many thanks to SBux insurance & God’s timely provision, I am less wise than I was before.

I have several stories from when I was under sedation… Perhaps I’ll share one sometime.

I remember vaguely, like it was a dream, that I talked during the procedure, but I don’t know what I said. Of course, I wondered if I had scandalized the very nice & sweet dental assistant due to the fact that my Oh So Powerful Thought & Word Filter was inoperative due to the amount & type of medication that I’d been given.

When I went into the office yesterday for my checkup, I asked her, wincingly, if I’d been untoward or off in my comments. She only smiled & said, ‘You like football. A lot. And I know more about the 49ers because of you than I ever wanted to know.” Dr. Pete asked, “You remember ANYTHING from the procedure?” And I said, “Nope.” And the two of them, Dr. & assistant, just smiled at me.


Over the last week, I’ve been pondering God’s promises to me & mine. This includes my marriage, my family, my friends, & my church family. Sometimes the circumstances of life threaten to make me afraid, make me doubt, make me worry… the accuser throws out his classic line, “Did God really say….?” and I’m driven to my knees & to God’s Word to remind myself that God’s promises WILL come about, not for my greatness, but for His. Not due to my goodness or worthiness, but because of His. He delights in blessing & caring for His kids, & I am one of them. And I am holding on to what I know to be true. No matter what.

So say we all.

Graduation weekend & other musings…

This last weekend was one of those where we found ourselves running… starting with Thursday evening. The Pasty Gangster was set to graduate on Saturday, & theBean & I wanted to host a graduation celebration. Being in Atlanta for the 4SQ convention the entire previous week didn’t help with our preparations for the graduation… getting the house & yard together, ready so that it would be clean enough & organized enough to host some family & friends.

So Friday was a blur of activity. Took theGiant table upstairs, & then tackled the floors. Vacuumed the tile (so as not to stir up a bunch of dust,) then mopped it. Twice. Using Fabuloso, which, I might add, is one of the best smelling cleaning products in the world. Not that I am a regular sniffer of cleaning products… which would be weird. And potentially damaging to the currently functioning brain cells. But it is wonderful. And purple, which is definitely a plus.

The business of the preparation for the graduation & the after-grad-party made it easier to distract myself from the very real & very powerful emotions that rose & fell in my chest like the incoming ocean tide.

Now, I don’t have any illusions about thePasty being my ‘baby.’ Just my firstborn. Now 18 years old. With 18 years of random memories & life lived that kept flashing back & forth in & through my mind & heart. A few of them…

Holding him in my arms while he slept, not wanting to put him down because I couldn’t believe I had my own kid. The ever-present ball he’d have in his hand, depending on the season. His infatuation with the music of Steven Curtis Chapman. How he watched the “Front Row: Steven Curtis Chapman” Video over & over & over, singing along to all the songs, & even memorizing the banter Steven Curtis Chapman exchanged with his bass player. The binky dance. The worry we had over his eye issues & inability to see… & the day he got glasses. The day he got contacts. The washing of the hands & refusal to open doors with anything other than his elbows. The joy exuding from him every time he participated in a team sport. He’s always been the heart & soul of the teams he’s on… His humor. Determination. Strong will. Compassionate heart. The rediscovery of a love for music. And a girl named Alex…

I stopped & pondered… allowed the rush of images, feelings, thoughts, & memories to flood my brain. I wept. Laughed. And resumed cleaning.

Saturday, the time for graduation came. We found our way through the frantic-ness of Lawlor Events Center, stumbled up the aisles to the balcony seats, & watched the ceremony. Our boy’s name was called; he shook the principal’s hand, went to the top of the steps of the stage & raised his arms in the air & let out a “Whoo!”

It was the same kind of “Whoo!” that we’d grown used to hearing from the football field during the pregame when the team would storm the sideline & jump around, bouncing into each other. I realized the comfort that I’d taken in hearing Pasty’s exuberant yells. And I smiled. And yelled my own “Whoo!”

The recent passing of basketball coaching legend John Wooden, had a profound impact on me… not because of the incredible coaching records that he amassed during his tenure at UCLA, but rather for the way he influenced & affected the people he came in contact with during the 99 years of his life: those that played for him, those he coached with & against, & those in the ever-widening sphere of influence that grew without any intention or design of his own… due to his character, integrity, insights, wisdom, & devotion to his wife, Nell. His “Wooden-isms” go far beyond pithy quotations that would adorn bumper stickers.

My mom sent me this picture, taken at Pasty’s graduation party last Saturday. It’s of Pasty, my dad, me & my brothers Moe & Ben… I’m trying to remember what I was thinking at the exact moment the picture was taken, what was running through my head that is so obvious in the expression on my face… Sigh.

wednesday, squirrels, & other things…

Had a gray squirrel sighting this a.m. while on my way for the Preliminary Cup of Java. Don’t see too many squirrels in my neighborhood. Wonder if it has to do with the proliferation of coyotes… I’ve seen a bunch of coyotes running up Disc Dr., though they look a lot more gaunt than the one in the picture…

Just listened to a really thought provoking message on the Book of Job & addressing ‘suffering’ – John Goldingay, Professor of Old Testament at Fuller Theological Seminary… great accent too.

TheBean & I are getting ready to go on a double date with Matty & Nikki C… headed to the Tide for wings & a frosty beverage to combat the blistering sun & to quench a king’s thirst… as soon as she gets home… I’m not a fan of waiting-age.

Is it time for football season yet?

It cracks me up when theBean moves stuff from one room to another. And back again. And forth. Once upon a long time ago, I may have even tried to understand it, but mere mortals like myself can’t hope to comprehend the greatness & genius of such masters of design & arrangement.

I think its a shame that home field advantage for the World Series is decided by the outcome of the All-Star game. If THEY are going to insist on continuing this (& according to Bud Selig, they are,) then a couple rules about the All-Star game should be done away with, like:

  • The mandatory “every team gets represented” rule – meaning that at least 1 player from every team has to make the All-Star team. Instead, let the players & managers pick the team & the reserves – so that deserving players don’t stay home just to make sure every team is represented.
  • Fans don’t vote in starters – I’m all for removing the fan vote 100% – & again, let the managers, coaches, & players vote/select the players that make the team.
  • Treat it like a real baseball game – let the bestest players play, & the bestest pitchers pitch. Instead, the game looks like Simpson’s episode – with most player appearances amounting to no more than a cameo…
  • There’s more, but that would be a start. Now, if baseball would just adopt the same rules for both leagues, that would be fantastic…

    Self-cooling socks would be a great invention.

    We are officially running late for our double date…

    I am content. Ahhh.


    I was at my 14 year old son’s baseball game, City Tournament don’t you know, reading, waiting for it to start. All the players were running through their warmups, taking groundballs, playing soft-toss, the usual preliminaries…

    I was jerked from my book world with the calling of my name. My son was walking towards me, holding his right hand with his left, gingerly… like when he was small & had an owie… I (calmly) ran over to him to see what was up – well, it turns out that what was up was he had taken a bad hop grounder off of the tip of his middle finger… and it was bleeding…

    Upon closer examination & in conferring with one of his coaches, I could see that his fingernail was sitting at a 45 degree angle… & that there seemed to be something wrong with the end of his finger… but we couldn’t see it through the blood.

    I’m solo at the game, glad I’m there, but now wrestling with the fact that now I have to parent, & to make tough decisions. No panic. Banish worry. Be calm. Pray for peace.

    We have to go to the ER, just in case this is more than just a busted nail. Which hospital?

    My mind raced… called our insurance carrier in the car… driving towards the nearest hospital with a hope that I wouldn’t have to pass it by & go somewhere else. Didn’t. Hoped for an empty waiting room. Yes.

    Went through triage, (can’t see anything because of the blood,) & saw a doctor within 1 hour (a personal record for me & mine for ER trips.) X-rays. Answers.

    The tip of the finger is broken off (open distal phalanx fracture) & bone is protruding from the fingertip, through the flesh. Dr. wants a game plan.

    Clean it. Stitches. Reset. Split. More Xrays.

    Everything went according to the game plan. Thank you Jesus.

    Next up, due to the severity of the break, we’re off to a hand specialist to see if surgery will be required to repair the finger. Unknown.

    Today, I sit at my desk, a card table in my room really, & ponder the thoughts that flood my mind, & fight for attention. The feeling of powerlessness that washes over me watching my son in pain, lots of pain. Worry about the unknown: will it heal right? WIll he need surgery? What will it cost?

    I think back upon the ride over to the game, where we prayed for him for peace. Confidence. Strength. Thinking it was for the baseball game. Revisiting the hours in the ER where he recalled our prayer & laughed at the irony of how our evening ended up, & that the answers to prayer looked a lot different than him trying to hit a baseball.

    Facing my own fears. Inadequacies. Powerlessness. But not living or acting out according to how I feel or how things seem to be… rather, trusting & choosing to trust that God is in control, & is near. Not that He’s ever far, but the sense of His being “WITH” us is tangible.

    rain down…

    I was talking to the kids yesterday during our most recent downpour… just soaking in (literally) the smell of the rain, which is one of my favorite smells in the whole world (next to the purple meets cotton candy fragrance that theBean wears.) One of them said, “Dad, all this rain isn’t NORMAL, is it?”

    Thought about it for a minute & answered: “Nope. But I’m not complaining. Let’s enjoy it while its here…” And we are.

    Made it to & through Convention/Connection unscathed. Convicted. Challenged. Loved by friends & fam. Blessed with a surprise trip to Disneyland, my favorite place to go ever (right next to minor-league baseball parks…) But unscathed. Maybe a little larger in the soul. I’m believing for it.

    Just passed the time of year when I’d normally be in Frankfurt for my Spring visit to our sister church – this year’s visit will have to wait until November. I’m missing friends.

    Don’t know if its all the sitting last week that aggravated a stiff back, or something else… but I’ve been having intermittent back spasms up & down since last Friday. No buono… Which is why I go see Dr. G, & then things feel better. Less twisty, that’s for sure.

    I don’t have a map. Or a blueprint. Lost them a few years ago, back in the days when I was a lot smarter than I am now, & knew what I was going to do & how I was going to do it. Got reminded of that last week.

    By the way… don’t tell my 3 kids – It only looks like I’m winging this whole “dad” thing because… I am.

    Jesus! Help me!

    In the next few days, I’ll be painting over a mural that has got painted in my office in April 2000. Its time for change. I’m thinking a Tolkien theme. Or at least, I am going to hang my now homeless (room-less?) LOTR posters… because they can’t stay where they are now. Sorry Frodo. Sam. Strider. But now you get to be with me in my office.

    Either my feet are growing, or my shoes are shrinking.

    I ate at The Cheesecake Factory 4 times while in Anaheim. Man, I can get used to that place, esp. the Godiva Chocolate Cheesecake. I dreamt about it last night. Truly.

    On that note, I heard a rumor that the Reno/Sparks area (Scheels) will get one of those if the shops in the area can boost their annual sales to Cheesecake Factory standards. Oh please, oh please.

    Reading through my Complete Jewish Bible, musing through Mishlei/Proverbs, pondering 17:17

    A friend shows his friendship at all times – it is for adversity that {such} a brother is born.

    The longer I live, the more I realize my need for friends – real friends who will stick with me, through thick & thin, in spite of my issues, who love me enough to tell me the truth & not just blow smoke…


    My last post (more of a “sentence” than a post,) was penned late at night while I was pondering something – rejection – something I know that I’m not alone in having experienced. I even have probably dished out a bit of it myself, albeit unknowingly. Anyhow, I was thinking about rejection, both from the aspect of experiencing a recent & fresh dose of it, & also from the standpoint of Jesus Christ being intimately familiar with it Himself.

    When I think about the sufferings of Christ, the first thing that comes to mind is His suffering leading up to the cross – being scourged by the Roman soldiers, beaten with sticks & fists, forcibly being fitted with a crown of Jerusalem thorns… & finally being nailed to the cross.

    But Jesus’ suffering wasn’t limited to the cross… in doing a little digging, you can see that His suffering was something that was experienced in every area of life. I re-read Isaiah 53 the well known prophecy about the ‘suffering servant’, a passage that foretold the suffering of Christ on the cross. However, something else in the passage caught my eye:

    My servant grew up in the LORD’S presence like a tender green shoot, sprouting from a root in dry and sterile ground. There was nothing beautiful or majestic about his appearance, nothing to attract us to him. He was despised and rejected—a man of sorrows, acquainted with bitterest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way when he went by. He was despised, and we did not care. vv2,3

    He was despised and rejected? Acquainted with the bitterest grief? I dug some more – & read through the gospels doing a word search for “rejection” & “suffering” – what I found was:

  • Matthew 10:24-26 – on the subject of suffering – if/since Jesus (the master) suffered, all of His followers will suffer as well.
  • Matthew 21:42 – Jesus was the ‘stone that the builders rejected,’ the One who has since become the Cornerstone (the main stone of a building, upon which all of the walls are based…)
  • Mark 6:1-5 – upon returning to His hometown of Nazareth, & revealing Himself as the Messiah, it says that Jesus was rejected at Nazareth – by the people who knew Him best.
  • Mark 9:12 – Jesus prophesied to His disciples that He, the Son of Man would go through sufferings & be treated with contempt
  • You can see more on this if you check out Luke 2:34; 9:22; 17:25…
  • Other thoughts race through my mind – Jesus’ family thought He was crazy, out of His mind, & came to Him while He was teaching in order to “put Him away…”

    After pouring His life out for 3 years to His disciples, one of them, Judas Iscariot, betrays Him to the Jewish leaders/Roman soldiers for 30 pieces of silver, the going price for an ox. An ox! The Son of God sold for the price of livestock. On top of that, when He was arrested, every one of His disciples ran away from Him, abandoning Him. Worse, when confronted with the opportunity to be associated with Jesus, Simon Peter denied that he even knew Jesus, 3 separate times. To a servant girl.

    In Romans 5, we’re encouraged that we should “rejoice in our sufferings, because they produce in us endurance…” And Paul, a man well acquainted with suffering & rejection, reminds us in 8:18 that the sufferings of this present time, any & everything we go through, is not even worth comparing with the glory that is awaiting us in Christ… He even says:

    I want to know Christ & the power of His resurrection & the sharing of his sufferings by becoming like Him in His death, if somehow I may attain the resurrection from the dead… Philippians 3:10

    He wants to know Christ – even if… WHEN it means the sharing of the same sufferings Christ endured.

    Later, Peter, the same Peter who betrayed Jesus Christ, writes to Christ-followers going through life’s wringer, saying:

    Do not be surprised at the fiery trial taking place – to test you– as though something strange were happening to you. Instead, rejoice as you are sharing Christ’s sufferings, so you may be glad & shout for joy when His glory is revealed. If you are rejected & hated for the name of Christ, you are blessed because the spirit of glory, which is the Spirit of God, is resting on you… if you suffer as a Christ-follower, rejoice, because you bear His name…

    The rejection & suffering that Christ endured went far beyond the cross – & often came at the hands of those He knew best, those closest to Him – His family & the people in His hometown.

    It gives me great courage & encouragement, peace & faith, to know that Christ endured this type of rejection as well, being hated, & reviled, abandoned, & denied… & He endured to the end, through it all, & gives us an example to follow – one filled with grace, healing, restoration, & life.

    Rejection hurts -& we’re promised suffering if/since we follow Christ… yet in the middle of all of it, God gives us grace to endure; to persevere. To bring glory to Him.

    Mirror, mirror…

    When I looked in the mirror, what I saw reflected back at me was unacceptable. Fat. Ugly. Distorted. Off. But to me, that was normal – it was how I saw myself, & to me, it was reality. It didn’t matter if there was someone there with me who told me “how nice” I looked, I knew it was probably just someone exercising their ‘social graces” & not acknowledging what I (& probably everyone else) knew to be true.

    Looking back on it, I think it was that my perception, my reality, my lens for looking at me & my life situations was skewed, like a carnival mirror. Where the image that is reflected is distorted, inaccurate, yet just as painful to observe. And remember.

    So I stopped looking the mirror… but I could still remember what I “looked” like – the distorted images of me, the twisted outlook on life. My reality. Which remained, until my mirror was replaced…

    And I looked into it again.

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