Sometimes I'm afraid I will be forgotten. That I myself am forgettable. But I think we're all worth remembering; i.e. not even a single sparrow falls to the ground without the Father's knowing. But what kind of remembering will people have of me? I suppose I'd rather they remember my feeble attempts at friendship than those parts of me I wish would rather not exist. But I'm sure that I will be remembered, if at all, as myself as a bundle of paradoxes, as a very imperfect yet grace imbued girl. And this grace not of myself.