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O troubled soul,
do not let falling
get you down.

We are not owed, we are owing.
Born to contradictions, day and night,
to tumble, to suffer, to
lament, to be rained on,
and to crawl out of the muck
panting and straining but alive,
more in love with life than ever.
Over and over we rise,
phoenixes, miracles —
the heart does not fail.
Love does not fail.
God does not fail.

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Have a Mary Little Christmas

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