Soap for Jesus

I came home thoroughly discouraged today. I really get that doctors want to work normal hours too. But when you leave work late after a very bad day, practically run to the train on a wrenched ankle, have to buy a ticket only to miss the darn thing by twenty seconds, run back upstairs to the tram, have to work out which one is fastest, head back down to the train which will get you to the station right at your appointment time, have to upset your mom’s evening plans to request a lift so you can get there as fast as possible, upset your husband, and call the doctors to tell them you’ll be five minutes late for them to tell you they’ll leave a note for the nurse but you might have to rebook, they could be a little more forgiving. Also. They could allow you to buy tickets at the gate instead of having to rush halfway up the station. Also. The train was late by ten minutes and my poor Mom, who had to be in Newcastle-under-Lyme for 7:30, was delayed by a good twenty minutes without a w

It's been a while since I've been really vulnerable, really visible about what's going on in my life. For all my passion for openness and vulnerability about our struggles, I'm scared of sharing. I'm scared of people using them against me. I'm scared. It's fear that keeps me prisoner. Fear that becomes fact, but that's not the point. I don't make a difference if I hide in my fears; it's what so many others do and it's never going to break the mould if I carry on doing it. It doesn't encourage others to break their mould and find freedom in being their ugly, beautiful, broken, imperfectly perfect selves. It doesn't leave a place where they know they can be imperfect and free, broken and not judged; it doesn't leave a place where people can be loved like Jesus loves them. I know people hate "Love the sinner, hate the sin," but it's true. Jesus said, "Go and sin no more" to the adulteress, to Mary wiping