I love copy and paste. Highlight, push two buttons, leave it as long as you want, and when you have a blank spot to fill from cyberspace, hit two more buttons, and up pop the little black letters or whatever, fresh as lemons. I wish life was like that. I wish I could just paste over my mistakes, change my heart as easily as I change that page.
It doesn't work that way, though. Life is more like the way my dad used to have to white-out on a real typewriter. Stick the little strip in, go back to where you were, hit each button again, till the powder covers up what you did. Or, more realistically, since yesterday is far away (Yes I know the line is "yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away" but I don't care if Lennon turns in his grave.) more realistically, the mistakes still stare at me from the messy pages, and I am forced to realize again that only God can make the words that follow worth the typos.
P.S. In case you haven't looked out the window today, it's snowing. Just a bit. And even though I know long cold winter follows, I still run to the window.
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