I will not be moved.

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I imagine if I proclaim, declare, or out rightly profess there is a hope unshakeable, a truth undeniable, and a power unquenchable, a few eyebrows would rise and the scribble from the pen on the paper to remind the oncologist how foolish I am later that night as he reflects back on his hum drum day, where one report after the next is negative and where one ounce of hope is snuffed out with fact, and one miraculous word is coughed over with a big old fashioned hogwash that I be the wife full of mullock. But I am saying, it is happening day by day, hour by hour and one long minute after the next. My head has pounded the wall more than I would like for it to have. My fists are bloody from pounding the ground and my knees…absolutely seized. I am not as agile as in my youth. Oh my youth. Again, and again, I am looked down on as a foolish youth, but my youth like faith is just how I want it to remain: unshakeable, undeniable, and unquenchable. I can be hot headed, arrogant, and rather crazy, but I refuse to be moved by man’s word. I want only to be moved by His word.