the shunamite woman rebukes me with her generosity of spirit and purse even as i am supremely unimpressed by her husband who, when his son is taken desperately ill, only has this to say, take him to his mother.
how is it that a (seemingly) discerning gracious and contented person is shackled with a clod like that?
how does a woman become/remain discerning gracious and contented living with a clod like this?
what pain she must endure to be so much and to live with so little.
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