How long must I wrestle in my soul, with sorrow in my heart each day? How long will my enemy dominate me?
Anxious waiting has a way of turning every quiet moment into a question. Maybe you've checked your phone again for the email about the scan or the reply from someone you love, and felt a prayer start to form underneath: how long? For many people, what comes next is a quick retraction, as if the question were rude.
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