I had to go back and read this for a second time.
It was speaking my world today. Except my sobs weren't over the steering wheel, it was the kitchen sink for me.
Why do I ask to be good but I don’t act good?
And it wasn't over lost music books or unpracticed songs but over the words "yuck" and the spewing of food during supper.
Raising your own flesh and blood is this exercise in seeing how dirty your flesh is — and how direly you need the blood of Christ.
My dirty flesh was exposed and I know that tender little heart was hurt. (It wasn't his fault supper was less then sub par.)
It is so painful to be moulded and made, but I am trying to keep my willing heart...
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