Where tubes of toothpaste and patience get squeezed from the bottom, the top and the in-between.
Where time passes with the click of a mouse and drags like a whiny toddler down a grocery store aisle.
Where graves are dug and happiness buried.
Where plastic cups of Kool-Aid spill with overtired tears onto white carpet.
Where bees and words sting, and hopes are ripped off like stubborn Band-Aids.
Where muddy Velcro soles traipse across our desires and the sticky mop leaves streaks on the linoleum floor of our longings.
Where we groan inwardly for redemption, and the fruit of the Spirit falls off the tree, bruised.
Where victory has already been accomplished, but He has not yet returned.
Where we have already been justified, but not yet fully sanctified.
Between the temporary perfection of the Garden and the eternal perfection of Celestial City,
We are living in the in-between.
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