Today’s sin is pride.
He worked every day to realize the sculpture. But no matter how he struggled to dig out its true form, his hands felt inadequate. They grew tired; they became weak after hours at the altar of potential perfection. And still she was only a lumpy, pale rock.
Then one day he chipped too far. Her stone hand fell to the ground and shattered.
He crawled on the floor, scooping up the pieces, trying to find a way to undo what doubt and fear had caused. “I should have believed,” he said. She would not be put back together.