People like to be addressed specificlly, it makes them important.

The one-eyed man watched them go, and then he went through the iron shed to his shack behind. It was dark inside. He felt his way to the mattress on the floor, and he stretched out and cried in his bed, and the cars whizzing by on the highway only strengthened the walls of his loneliness.

O Lord, help me not to despise or oppose what I do not understand.

No," the mother told her. "It's too dangerous there".  A small incident, but when multiplied a hundred, a thousand times in a little girl's life, she learns that she's not as capable as a boy of handling life on the edge. She learns to hang back.

Written By Sue Monk Kidd

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