By Mia

With family gathered, she recounted her most colorful memory threads, using them to painstakingly stitch the assorted swatches of the very fabric of her life into the precious heirloom. She bled with each prick of her conscience. Sweat beaded on her forehead, tears streamed down her cheeks. All loose ends tied up, she smiled, deeming pearls of wisdom not trampled by pigs worthy of passing on to future generations. She’d done her best and had poured her heart into her life’s project. With its final beat, having given her all, she whispered, “It is finished.”

“God told me to write, so I do — plus, the written word is my preferred method of communication.” – the writer

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