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My Foundation
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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