You know, Tiny, sorrow gives depth to the heart, so I have had some time to think some on this whole sequence of events: You have become another parable - a musing of saints and a paradox of faith; a punctured prose, a punctuated song, an effigy of grace, a precious, yet “mangled”, treasure. Precious and beloveth, you are now a spiritual showpiece for Christ and my personal piercing of love - a perfect bruising. He who loves you most held you up on a little cross of your own for purposes He is yet to reveal. He died in pain too, but rose in glory. Again, “How unsearchable are His judgment, and His ways past finding out! For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been His counselor, or who has given to Him and it shall be recompensed unto Him again? For of Him and through Him and to Him, are all things: to whom be glory for ever. Amen”