Who's Laughing? by Spiritual Echo
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Imagine for a moment, God looking down at a crippled earth, holding the hand of a child, and telling the girl to jump.
"No, I don't want that," I protested. For a moment, I felt safe. He pulled me into his lap and held me for the last time. His words resonated as he flung me out, threw me into a quagmire. "If it was good enough for my son, it surely is good enough for you." I suppose it could have been worse, but for most of my life, I was angry. When I remembered that intimate moment before birth, I'd shake my fist at the sky and rage against My Father, who equated my life with a swimming lesson. "Sink or swim," the mirthful response would filter down, tease me, encourage and deflate me. "This isn't fair," I'd say and continue to mumble as I served my time.
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