So, this year, lent will be different. I sit here as my wife lays in bed, waiting for Roman to be born. My Wife. My Roman. My God, My God, Why haven’t you for forsaken me? Why do you love me so? Why do you let me have so many blessing? The worries of my life, they wash away as I think of you in this. I marvel at what you have done in people; that I have no worries of Caity’s delivery, that I know that Roman will be okay.
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