She was charismatic and attractive.
She knew what she wanted – and she got it.
Nope. Barbara Cartland heroine. The sort of woman I’d cross the world to avoid.
She kept a lovely home.
She had excellent taste in furnishings.
She knew exactly what colours suited her best.
She recycled and occasionally gave blood.
She worked hard and had moderate success in her chosen field.
She rarely had a bad hair day.
She made some mistakes but meant well.
She went to church but didn’t force her beliefs on other people.
She will be missed.
That’s closer; but wait – is THIS what I’ll leave behind? A clean kitchen, a pension and some matching underwear?
Tell the truth, Scrivener..
She screwed up her teenage years.
She was too scared to try.
She hurt those closest to her.
She said she was a Christian but acted like she was Lord.
She chose comfort over challenge.
She ended up more confused than when she started.
She lived a very small life.
Ouch. There’s some truth here; but where’s the hope?
She was frightened and lost. But He sought and found her.
She was bowed and broken. But He lifted her head.
She was sinful and selfish. But He died to forgive her.
She was crushed by rules. But He kept them – and He set her free.
She made no impact. But He gave her purpose.
She was no-one. But He gave Her His name.
In His hands, her life mattered.