"You had a bad day, Rachel," he says, looking at the numbers, pulling his mouse unnecessarily high off the desk as he clicks through spreadsheets of red and green.
"I'm kind of discouraged," I told him.
"Powers are really your Achilles heel. You just gotta double check," he turns to me.
To triple check.
I don't know how all of the pieces of life come together.
My dad is standing over a frozen patch of our backyard at this point, and dumping hot water out of the hot tub, to soften the ground. To make another winter grave for a dearly loved dog-friend.
"I can be strong," I say in different ways, sitting in the front seat of my car for two hours with a friend who needs someone to listen to her.
I whisper it, while she talks, to the sun that is slowly creeping towards 4:00p.m. above the mountains.
"And it was like Bill says, the curtain was pulled back and I caught a glimpse of the glory of God, Rachel."
It caught me off guard.
I thought to myself, when was the last time I caught a glimpse? Or even looked for a glimpse? I forgot that those moments even happened, and how many months have I wasted in the last 4 or 5 years not trying to be vulnerable enough to ask for those?
I want to get invested. I want to wake up.
Here I am, Lord. Show me a new thing.
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