THE MAKING OF A BOOK
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PART 5 A WHITE ROSE
For months, I sat in the balcony of the church crying, sometimes sobbing, hoping no one would notice. The tears slowly washed the pain from my wounded soul, until one day I realized I had stopped crying. I moved from the balcony closer to the platform on the bottom floor.
One day, the pastor preached a message about finding God’s will and told a story about a man and a log that I never forgot. No matter how hard the man pushed and pulled the log he could not get it to the place he wanted. His friend saw him struggling and offered to help. The friend started the log rolling.
“It’s going the wrong way,” the man cried.
The friend running behind the log smiled and…
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