He stood there and ruminated, looking at the shimmering pool of brackish water – truly giving it some thought.
Throwing himself in – calling it a wrap. The shadow of morose, defeat – the stench of overall inadequacy was proving to be a formidable foe.
Taking note of the people walking along the waterfront, some deep in thought, while others walked in concert with others, he sighed heavily while fighting back the tears that he felt fermenting in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed hard, pushing them back.
Life is borrowed, sorrow is tempered with time. He reasoned that his family would be better served by the insurance money that would be procured in his absence.
His thoughts drifted to his family, friends and the web of people he held in high esteem. He was unnerved but undeterred – yet he felt compelled to beat back the call of the water to assuage his pain as he took slow deliberate steps from the water’s edge.
He made his way to a bench in the distance and sat down – whispering a silent prayer to God wiping away a single tear that escaped from his eye.
As he ruminated on his lack of follow through, he realized that it was the seed that served as the impediment, that faith of a mustard seed was redemptive.
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