The sun beating heavily on our heads, we feltthe agony of things straining against themselves,felt the longing but not the reward and grewweary of the day. When I spoke, it was gravel in my throat.“Show me,” I demanded, “the length of these days.Show me the end.” And the sundid not relent in its frenzied beamingwhileContinue reading “Advent 13: But I said, “I have laboured in vain””
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The Consolations of Writing 