“Amen, I say to you, no prophet is accepted in his own native place.”
Glenda and I had been classmates from first through sixth grade and we played together whenever we could. During sixth grade, we endured some troubles. Glenda began to blossom into a young woman quite noticeably and I managed to annoy our teacher on a daily basis, regardless of my genuine effort to do just the opposite.
One day, Sister announced that we must read the essays we’d just written to the entire class. Since Glenda and I were shy, we trembled in unison at the thought. When it was my turn, I managed to read my work without a fumble. When Sister called Glenda next, I closed my eyes and prayed that she would also do well. A giggle from the back of the classroom interrupted my prayer. A second giggle prompted me to…
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