Rediscover the space you need in between your work, your schedule, and your limits by eliminating unneeded frustrations and reflecting on how you spend your time. From Richard Swenson, author of the bestselling book Margin, this devotional’s 180 daily readings offer encouragement, healing, and rest as you deal with time management, stress, and busyness.
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About the Author
Richard A. Swenson, M.D. is a physician, a futurist and the author of Margin, The Overload Syndrome, Hurtling Toward Oblivion, and More Than Meets the Eye. Dr. Swenson and his wife, Linda, live in Menomonie, Wisconsin. They are the parents of two sons, Adam and Matthew.
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Chapter Twelve The moment I'm concious, the rush of agonizing pain shoots through me. I hear distant voices, but I can't grasp any words. They're just distorted echoes. After a moment, the sounds seep into my mind, but I can hear them clearly. "Are they okay?" A voice asks nervously. "Get a doctor! They're hurt!" Another cries. "There's a lot of blood... what if they're dead?" A third says. I open my eyes, and am hit by a shocking sight. I'm staring up at the ceiling, and lots of worried faces hang around me. I crane my neck, and see the three boys sprawled on the ground nearby. People surround them, talking nervously among each other. "She's awake!" Someone reports. "Terrin's awake!" Pax must've told them my name. "Terrin...?" One of the boys raises his head groggily. "Jarrson's up, too!" Another kid says. The boy's blue eyes meet mine, and I freeze. His golden-brown hair looks blonde in the harsh lighting, and his face is smeared with blood. "Jarrson?" I ask. He had fired the gun. I know him. A memory pushes itself forward, demanding that my drowsy mind turn to it. Jarrson, younger now—maybe fifteen, just a year younger—is standing next to me. "You can do it!" He says. I turn to the towering oak and begin to climb. I propel myself with a branch and struggle higher. My foot slips from its hold on a knot in the bark, and all my weight swings to the branch my other foot had been on. The branch bends under me, and I hug the trunk, digging my nails into the wood. Crack! The branch snaps, and I manage to hang on for a moment, but I go tumbling down. I hit the earthen ground with a thud, and scream in pain. Jarrson crouches beside me. "Don't worry, Terrin." He struggles to pick me up, but he does, and he carries me home. When we get there, we stand on the porch. "Thank you." I say, leaning heavily on the rail. "No problem. You're my friend. I'm here for you." He replies. "Honestly. Thanks." "I know you're being honest. And I'm saying it's no big deal. I'm sure you'd do the same for me." "I'm not." I say softly, not meeting his gaze. He leans closer to me and kisses me, on the mouth. "I am." He says after pulling away. I swallow and don't say a word. I've known him since we were little kids. He can kiss me. But it just shocked me into silence. I pull out of the memory and look at the bloody, injured boy who stares at me now. "Terrin? Help her!" Jarrson snaps, looking up at the others. A girl runs off, probably to find a doctor. Jarrson drags himself over to me, on his knees, and puts my head on his lap. His piercing blue eyes widen. "Oh, no." He's staring at my stomach. "What?" I look at my abdomen. My shirt is stained red.