In Sunday school, a girl daydreams as she watches the wind outside the windows take the dark shape of pines. The girl considers the unsayable name of God. She, too, has such a name no one has spoken or dares speak. Sometimes it is sweet on her tongue like a hard candy. Sometimes it burns as an ember. She dips a slender paintbrush into a jar of water and writes, as no one watches, her secret name in water on the linoleum floor. The other children practice signing as they sing “This Little Light of Mine.” As she watches the name evaporate, the girl thinks, my light is not so little.
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