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It's still a miracle
after four pregnancies,
after seeing numbers up and down the scale,
after witnessing the good, the bad, and the very ugly,
it's still a miracle he looks my way with desire. I am still awed to find respite in his arms, to be who I am in his presence and feel completely at home.
It's still a miracle to be loved.
It's proof that an Almighty God heard the heart cries of a shy, fat girl, sustained her until she was ready and then blessed her for a lifetime.
How could I ever say there is no God?
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