We all have things that give us comfort. For many children it is a blanket or a pacifier. For Quito it is his bear that Aunt Shirley got him when he was a few days old. When he was a baby he had to have it to sleep, now he carries it around. Its been washed so many times its not funny. After it gets washed it gets sprayed with my perfume cause he likes to smell and rub on it. What is your comfort? Mine is food. Something I'm trying to break but none the less true. Shouldn't ours be God? I should not have even made that a question.
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