Alien part 5

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I was laying on the cold ground one night. My hands were clasped behind my head and my eyes were fastened on the sky. This night like so many other nights I was worried. I was worried that I might never reach my destination. I was worried that my life would be a deep hole. Dark, damp, deep hole. I was worried that I would die inside the hole I had created. I was worried that others would succumb to the hole as well. I thought I was the only one in the entire universe who had these thoughts. For a while I convinced myself that I was. What a fool. Do I think myself so unique that no one else struggles like I do? My Father brought me out of my dark reverie. He reminded me that He would mold me with His own hands. And I would be a light if I just let Him work.

I began to think about my Father's hands. Would they be calloused like the old man I saw on the road? Would they be smooth like the hands of a king should be? Would they be wrinkeled with age, showing the sadness He has seen and the wars He had fought? I entertained myself with these thoughts. I didn't come to a conclusion of what my Father's hands would look like.

But I longed to be home already. I longed to feel His hands on my face, welcoming me home.

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