I think it’s easier to believe in eternity than it is to believe in tomorrow.

I mean, everybody’s holding out for eternity.  And if we’re wrong, then we’re all going down together.

But the hope I have for tomorrow?  I hold it loosely.  I live in the ruthlessly honest grasp of “it might not end beautifully.”

I think maybe God has whispered to me promises, plans, and even some names.  Or maybe I’ve invented those in my own wishful, inventive dreams.  (And then recorded them in my journal, just in case they really happen.)

Forever?  Yes, I believe.

Tomorrow?  Eh, I’m not so sure.  Depends on the day.

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