Can I reach Him? Is my momentary delay enough to hold me back? Am I outside His infinite sacrifice as I stand outside the chapel door? Frustrated in my weakness, I face myself and see my shortcomings as though a fogged mirror has cleared. Sorrow sinks in - Yet still His hand- scarred- extends, asking, "Will you try again?" With grateful tremblings, I grasp His hand and pray, raised to hope that I'll no longer settle for the Minimum.
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