Not too surprisingly, she didn't say a thing when I came into the kitchen. She stood putting away the few groceries she'd gone to pick up. "Can I help..." I asked, wondering if that might trigger any dialogue, which it did, but giving me a sigh of relief in the way that she answered."That would be nice...thank you," she said simply, though I noticed a slight flush in her cheeks as she said that. We fell into an easy rhythm of working together while we put things away, even joking a little, which. He is not a God that will throw us in hellbecause we feel that we are confused. He is a God of love and compassion.He could have made me a sissy. I could even be a girl in a boy's body. Icould even be gay. But after I wrote this letter, I thought there arechildren that are being sexually abused. There are children that do nothave hands or feet. There are children that cannot talk or even think.My problem looks very small compared to these people. This is a proof ofthat God loves me. I never. More

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