Never speak bad about someone until you’ve walked a mile in their moccasins, goes the old saying. Don’t judge until we have experienced the same sorrow, pain, and despair.
In my sister Vicki’s case, it was too easy for me to judge her, for I did not live her life of needles and spoons.
But she is at peace now. She’s sleeping, not needing to artificially fill that ancient void in her heart and soul. She’ll no longer wander aimlessly, cruelly tossed by the white powdered tyrant of her wants and needs.
God is her Judge. Not me. And yet, I wish it could have been different between us, that we could have been closer, but our paths did not peacefully align.
And so I commend her now into the arms of God’s angels, those kind spirits that carry our spirits back to God, when we fall asleep for the…
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