You are anchored to the hope of God that so few ever truly find. You, dear longsuffering soul, are a Job of your time. One who will be misjudged and misunderstood. The enemy will try to trip you and rip you to shreds with the hurtful hisses that all this longsuffering is for nothing. Don’t you dare listen. I’m holding a purple heart in my hand that tells me something different. And it’s not just for me. It’s for you too. I knew it the minute the counselor put it in my hand, it should be pinned on your chest too. And if you were here with me in my quiet house today, I’d do just that. Close your
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