My name is Hannah, and the boy that lays beside me is a Lent unto the Lord. He lies quietly, and speaks softly. That boy will be a man. That boy will learn to lift heavy objects, sand wood, and sing praises to the most High. He will learn what it means to worship God in the morning, and to whisper a melody with the birds. He will memorize the lyrics to French hymns, and adhere the tongue of the learned wise child. He will grow in wisdom and stature, then he will dwell in the

Spiral in control. We have spoken of the loveliness of long-suffering; of the sweats and heaves of love. We speak of things merely touched down below; a shadow of heavenly things to come. We sigh and bemoan unlikely burdens until finally we unleash a single claw. Through the claw, we see red. They flogged Him. I love to speak things of romance; of things sly and wise; of harmless good; of a God who calls Himself Jealous and Love. I'd sink into his heart and love Him more dear

Mysteries surround my life. Of the ones that occured in my early childhood, it is sufficient for me to know that trauma in the early life produces troubled kids. That is no secret, and there is no shame in that. We live in a sinful world. The sooner we come to that realization, the happier we will be on this side of eternity. I'm now realizing-- 2 weeks after my 28th birthday-- the true import of life. I've suffered enough headaches for a lifetime, but it was begging the Lor