Forced to look
We don't like to think about death. None of us do. It may well be the single most horrifying source of terror and tears, agony and heartache, and tragic loss. We strain through life squinting hard so that we see and think about death as little as possible. It’s almost like we think that if we can’t see it, it will disappear—like the bogeyman in your dreams that maybe isn’t really there.
Life is a battle of choices. We not only have to choose what to do, but what not to do. We know that in order to say yes to one thing you have to say no to another, but even that is an understatement. Especially in America, where we have an incredible amount of freedom and potential to pursue different paths, in order to reach one goal you have to refuse a thousand others.
Growing up I was taught about modesty through talks at youth seminars, Sunday school, and youth group. I can remember being taught about tips and rules for how to be modest. While some of these tips are helpful, I grew up believing modesty was a set of standards that prevent you from dressing in a way that tempts men.
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