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Resting My Way To Heaven
I don’t think my husband understands me. I don’t think he knows what it feels like to push myself until I’m ragged just to quiet the whispering-shouting “Not Enough Not Good Enough” voice. I wonder...
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Why Rest Is Harder Than Work
I regularly fall asleep reading or writing. Most nights, Josh discovers me semi-propped up with too many pillows, the table lamp still on, an iSomething on my chest. He tucks me in, plugs in my...
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