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There is one real deprivation. I decided it again this morning after Imelda went to the school to catch Christine. And, that is what? Not to be able to give the gift of one's life and His life to those one loves the most. I feel at times this gift would turn inward. Unable to be given. It becomes a heavy burden then. A kind of poison. It is as though the flow of life is stopping. Doing nothing to be better is making a mistake. I'm getting up again, deciding over and over that I ought to be different. It's always a dare.