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@ -125,11 +125,13 @@ Outside Dee walked slowly to one of the concrete blocks that served as benches a
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He was not ready yet. Not ready for his penitential *pater noster*. Not ready to go see his advisor. He didn't feel ready for anything.
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Most of all, he realized he was not ready to admit to himself that not wanting to be here implied the possible solution of leaving, of *not* being here. He wasn't ready.
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*...If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, Lord, who could stand? But there is forgiveness with you so that you may be revered...*
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He didn't even feel ready for this prayer, for this call out to God. What iniquities faced him? He was privileged to be able to attend such a school as this. He was loved by God and the church. He was lucky to have been born with a mind so expansive, a body so healthy.
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Perhaps the iniquities were within.
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Perhaps the iniquities were within. Perhaps it were something about himself, within himself, a core aspect of himself. Perhaps the privilege was undeserved. Just a coyote, right? Just a farmer, right? And yet here he was, languishing at a renowned seminary.
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*...I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I hope; my soul waits for the lord more than those who watch the morning, more than those who watch the morning.*
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