(BTW: If you've been secretly detesting my use of its and it's and lack of comma etiquette for years now: darn you! Darn you to heck! To h-e-double-hocky-sticks no less! There, I'm all better now!)
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Look at the feet. A broken bottle of incense lies on the floor. She lies there weeping and kissing the Son of God. She mops her tears with her hair. Some think its disgusting. His money man is sickened by the waste. The Son of God says "When you're forgiven much you love much." This humiliating, messy, desperate attempt at kindness is my kind of story. It illustrates the only kind of faith that fits me.
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