Wednesday, November 17, 2004

My Name is Written on His Hand

My epiphanies come few and far between, but here's one. You do not decide who I am. What you think of me does not make me that person. You can call me a name, change my name, forget my name, but that is not who I am. I am the person inside who is growing and changing so fast and staying so much the same that I cannot keep track. I am not static. That would scare me except for the fact that someone knows me and holds my name, even going so far as to write it on his hand. He knows it even when I don't. He knows it even when you set up a cardboard cutout and call it me; then pretend I don't exist. My revelation makes me feel giddy. I am three dimensional or four--even five or six. You don't get to decide. I do, and God does. He will give me a stone with my name on it. A white stone with a new name that only he and I know. I hope it's a revelation I'll not soon forget.


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