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My memories hold a shifting, sinking, hot to the touch sand.
Wishy washy, fleeting, flighty, often changing life.
Soft sand.
Not nearly hard enough to base a foundation on, not to mention a life.
I was lost and He found me, but not before I did my damage.
There came a time when I knew that He was there.
He was the wave that pushed me back to solid ground, the filling for the empty spot inside.
Wish that I could go back and realize that He was all I needed before I was old.
Never the less, it is never too late.
Never too late to find out that His death and life are all I need to build my life on, not to mention my house.
My precious house with it's little ones and big ones and in between ones.
It is a house that stands on a firm foundation.
The rock.
He's the solid, rock hard part of my life.
Jesus Christ, what foundation!
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