Faith. Hope. Love.

His body is strong.


His legs support him; enabling him to walk and run wherever he needs to go. His arms can lift and carry the weight of the world. His hands can work magic. His core is tough; abs of steel, a ribcage protecting his heart; a heart bigger than one can imagine. His chest and shoulders; big and broad for one to lay their head on. His gorgeous eyes peer into the souls of others. His brain works in mysterious ways.

He works out, exercising and utilizing every muscle in his body to reach perfection.

His body is strong.

Or at least it’s supposed to be.

So why is it that his body is suffering?

Yesterday, I started and finished reading a novel called SCARED about a photojournalist who, in a last-ditch effort to save his career, finds himself in Swaziland, surrounded by the poor and impoverished who…

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