Love is the Sticky-Icky
It’s not the harsh judgment of myself which others find so endearing, nor is it the reason why these dogs lying on my lap love me. Despite my critical mind, God continues to spin this planet pushing the Universe ever outward with the unfathomable force of infinite love. This love is the very stuff that moves mountains, while also gently tickling a baby’s toes. My wretchedness and self-loathing simply cannot compare. Love is the sticky-icky, sweet-crumbly, ooey-gooey, hairy-scary, completely indescribable, substance of life.
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