U is for Unclench My Fist, Beloved

Raccoon TrapSee, it’s this way, Beloved. I can’t do it. I try. I really do. But I’m like a raccoon that has stuck it’s paw in a trap to grab some shiny thing. The shiny thing is in my fist but now I can’t pull my hand out of the trap. The more I pull, the more I hurt myself. If I unclench my fist, I could pull my hand out. But I’m stupid. Really, really stupid. My hand just won’t release that shiny thing. It’s not even real gold! It doesn’t have the weight, the heft; I think it’s melting or oozing in my sweaty palm. Still, I hang onto it for dear life.

You’ll have to do it. You’ll have to pry open each finger and unclench my hand. You’ll probably need to pull my hand out too; I’m sure to grasp that shiny thing again.

I wish I was strong and capable, but I’m not. Insisting that I must have at least one relative who wants to know me is like banging my head against a brick wall. My head is one endless ache. But I don’t stop. I don’t know how to stop. If there’s a rock, I flip it and look underneath only to be disappointed. Let’s face it, I’m a stupid raccoon. But You’re not. You knew how to work forgiveness in me. You used my curiosity to get me to pray for the soldiers. Then the rest just came naturally. You know how to unclench my hand. You know how to make me release the shiny thing that, at first, seemed so wonderful but brings only pain.
Please do. Please unclench my hand. Please help me to reach for things that don’t hurt me.

Tell me what you think. Thanks.

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