Judge me not

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In the bustling heart of Lusaka, where the city's pulse throbbed with a vibrant hum, a shadow of hypocrisy cast its pall over your heart. Your mother, a woman of staunch faith, had always been the epitome of piety, her every utterance a testament to her unwavering devotion. Yet, beneath the veneer of righteousness, you had glimpsed a darker truth—a judgmental streak that belied her proclaimed virtues.

You had often witnessed her sharp tongue, its venom aimed at those she deemed astray. The widowed neighbor, whose casual dress and unkempt hair invited a barrage of whispers behind closed doors. The young couple living in sin, their laughter and affection met with a pursed mouth and whispered condemnations. Each time, a righteous indignation would gleam in her eyes, as if she possessed some divine authority to pass judgment on others.

Yet, you knew better. Your mother's own life was far from exemplary. Behind the polished facade lay secrets she kept locked away—petty thefts from her workplace, whispered affairs, and a disregard for the rules she so vehemently enforced on others. It was a cruel irony that a woman who preached forgiveness could harbor such malice in her heart.

One fateful Sunday, as the church bells tolled, you found yourself unable to bear your mother's hypocrisy any longer. As she stood at the pulpit, her voice echoing through the hallowed halls, you felt a wave of disgust wash over you. You rose from your seat and confronted her before the congregation, your trembling voice carrying the weight of your accusations.

The church gasped in horror as you laid bare her sins, her secrets spilling forth like a shattered vase. The pious mask she had carefully crafted crumbled before their eyes, revealing the flawed human beneath. Tears streamed down her face as she realized the extent of her deception.

In the aftermath of that fateful day, a profound change came over your mother. The judgment and condemnation that had once defined her melted away, replaced by a genuine humility. She realized the futility of hypocrisy and embraced the true lessons of her faith—compassion, forgiveness, and the fallibility of all humans.

As the years passed, your mother became a beacon of hope for others who had strayed from the path of righteousness. She dedicated her life to helping those who had been outcast and forgiven, her words now carrying the weight of true understanding. And so, in the vibrant tapestry of Lusaka, the story of your mother became a testament to the human capacity for redemption—a reminder that even in the darkest of hearts, the light of forgiveness can prevail.

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