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update from sparkleup

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Madison Scott-Clary 2021-09-03 13:45:04 -07:00
parent 3596d9aa67
commit 170f156a54
3 changed files with 3 additions and 3 deletions
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writing/sawtooth/limerent-object/beats/06-bone-town.md
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@ -222,7 +222,7 @@ It all tugged at my heartstrings, and I prayed for the bravery to reassure her.
"Nervous about anything in particular?"
She squinted over at me, "You've gotten good at your therapist voice."
She squinted over at me. "You've gotten good at your therapist voice."
I laughed.

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writing/sawtooth/limerent-object/beats/07-seeds-of-doubt--2-retreat.md
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@ -86,7 +86,7 @@ I got my notebook out to see if I could finish what I started, but I couldn't. I
Instead, I just dived back into memories. Of that night, I remember first of all the way I cupped my fingers over the bridge of my muzzle and pulled down gently while pushing my snout up. The isometric stretch served to highlight every bit of tension within my neck, and as I held the pressure, I closed my eyes, counting the knotted muscles. Pressed, pushed, and held until I could feel the lactic acid burn deep in the tissue, and then released. With my targets thus marked, I ducked my muzzle down and slid my paws back, fingers kneading along sore spots.
Not for the first time, I wished that I could simply disappear within the written word. Wished that I could relinquish the very idea of physical sensation and surround myself in successive layers of scripture, commentaries, notes. Wished, most of all, that I could wrap myself in the warmth of his faith.
Not for the first time, I wished that I could simply disappear within the written word. Wished that I could relinquish the very idea of physical sensation and surround myself in successive layers of scripture, commentaries, notes. Wished, most of all, that I could wrap myself in the warmth of my faith.
If, at the end of time, faith and hope are to fade, there would be a final sense of completion, but until then, my faith was a comfort.

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writing/sawtooth/limerent-object/beats/07-seeds-of-doubt--3-choose-fear.md
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@ -123,7 +123,7 @@ Home was back in Sawtooth, for Saint John's would never truly be my home, and th
Israel, who struggled with God.
I envied, as I often did, the Jewish tradition, that eternal argument about who God was, what He meant, in which God was an active participant. Perhaps here, I could wrestle with Him. Tumble with my faith. Get all scuffed up.
I envied, as I often did, the comment I had heard of the Jewish tradition about that eternal argument about who God was, what He meant, in which God was an active participant. Perhaps here, I could wrestle with Him. Tumble with my faith. Get all scuffed up.
But Catholicism only offered him so much leeway, and this school even less.