i vrede återvänder

i worry over strange things. i cannot imagine, for example, being told suicide will damn me, but living in terrible agony that strips my humanity from me won't. i cannot imagine a heaven without the kittens and puppies i've held; some will say Christ never shed blood for their tiny souls, and I would shout back; would he have to? They are just as he wrote them, perfect and justified. they are too wondrous to set here to perish. i fret and i do not know, and i think God speaks to me, sometimes, in terrible, passionate stanzas; that i am lost, already. that it is too late. and it may be. but still i will love him, as he loved me first. i understand better than most why he would find me..uncomely. He is purest grace. i am, at best, flawed clay. but thank you, father. not for the answers, but for the questions we are free to ask. to wrestle with.