He can put on his own pillowcases, I fumed, fumbling to fit my own maroon pillowcase over bulging queen-sized bulk.
Oh! but his words hurt me so, I said in my head as I slammed two clean cases-as hard as fabric can possibly be slammed-on the bed. On his side of the bed.
But I’ve done his laundry week after week, month after month, year after year. What’s two pillowcases? They’re clean anyhow.
And this commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother.
But he hurt me. And I’m mad. I’m very, very mad. And sad.
Whoever claims to live in him must walk as Jesus did.
Well, maybe I’ll just put one of ’em on. He can do the other one.
Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger, and give no opportunity to the devil.
I s’pse I am hard to handle sometimes, he’s right about that. I can be harsh and proud and provoking.
For if you live by the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God.
G’night, Hon. Enjoy them fresh pillowcases.