Twice on the conversation, I referred to it as the “funeral”. Yeah… when we get there on Friday for T’s Funeral… I mean… Wedding. I’d shake my head in shame and disgust. Shame because I should NEVER wish any negativity on anyone’s union. Disgust, because it’s so not like me to NOT voice my concern and disdain in a situation. Maybe my mind thinks it’s a funeral because I’m going to pay my last respects to the woman I knew. The one I fell in love with and called sister like no other sister I’d ever had. She’s gone now, from what I understand. And maybe never to return. She’s gone on to the Lord, and that’s noble and wonderful. I just worry. I would ALWAYS want to know. If a close friend that I trusted said to me, “I think you’re making a mistake. And I’m only telling you because I love you…” I would totally respect that person for being so brave. But I’ve been told that voicing my discontent could get me “disowned” – un-invited to the wedding and cast out of her life. But… aren’t I already? I never hear from her anymore. I don’t even KNOW this woman. This bible-wielding-verse-quoting-holy-hand-of-God-waving-damnation-announcing evangelist lives in the body of my line sister, where someone who enjoyed the life we’ve been given once did. I’d NEVER hate on her walk. But something about it feels so wrong. If it didn’t sit wrong in my heart, I wouldn’t even fret about it. But … it sits wrong. Totally wrong. I need to pray more.
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