Sitting on a park bench, she wonders what went wrong. How it went wrong. Assumptions. A word that went awry. A face that soured. She meant the gift to be a blessing, but it became a source of stress. How did that happen?
She tried to ease it over, apologize for… she’s not exactly sure what… but like silly conflicts do, they get sillier. And silly hurts. Which is so silly. And without anyone to turn to, she found a park bench. To sit. And pray.
Of course, it’s times like these when she feels his absence. Her loss. Everyone else has someone. Has listening ears. Has a processor. Has perspective. Has help to weather the silly. Has… someone. In pairs, they form a crowd around her. A circle of pairs around a single. And no one seems to notice but her.
Jesus, she doesn’t know what to do. How to make it better. How to fix the silly. She tried. Without wise advice, or a good-sense shaking, or a heavy dose of encouragement, she park benches, waiting on You. Help her deal with hurtful silly.
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