Dearest Diary,
I am terribly weary this evening. It is not often that one feels the sort of melancholy I have achieved tonight. I have spoken to you for years almost exclusively of Granada and the home I had in that region of the province. But today it was discovered that the estate has been ransacked by thieves in my absence. Were it not for my overwhelming confidence in our Lord above I fear I could not be so calm as I feel at present. It is yet one more reminder, dear Diary, that things matter very little in comparison to the condition of our souls.
I am fortunate to be a member of a Parrish which far exceeds many others in its show of Christlike love and encouragement. I have been offered lodging and support in such a way that I am greatly humbled by their generosity.
I often speak primarily of the desire for the specific husband that has been set apart for me in our evening conversations, Diary. But pray, let me stray from such concern tonight for a more appropriate emotion. One of humility and thanksgiving. I am ever grateful that our Lord has sustained me and has protected and comforted me in such anxious circumstances. I expect to feel no less on the morrow!
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