09/23/2026
Why do I feel so weak? My heart pounds in my chest as my legs carry me forward. How can I be His servant when nothing I do seems to go right? My breath grows ragged from panting in the dry August air; I am almost out of time. If He wanted someone to do it properly, surely He wouldn’t pick me. The dry grass brushes past my legs as I fly through the fields, the sun is almost set. How could He ever accept me? I stagger to a halt, my dry mouth uttering words unformed. I pull out the camera, line it up, and click.
Beauty, perfected in weakness.
