Gifts That Keep Giving

“More blessings come from giving than from receiving.” ~ Act 20:35

Jackson knocked heavily on the door that he once called home - the Baldwin Center.  Meals are served there, jobs posted, babies cuddled and the unemployed are given job-seeking skills.  It’s a place where the homeless receive shelter and the neglected find a listening ear.  He carried a small Honey Baked Ham.

A rusty lock creaked just before a familiar face greeted him from inside.  His nametag read Scottie.  “It’s been too long my friend!” said the weary security guard staring back at him.  “I’ve missed you Jackson.” 

“I brought a little gift for your family,” Jackson said holding out the freshly cooked pork.  “I remembered that your children love ham.”

“Thank you!” Scottie blushed humbly.  “But I couldn’t possibly accept this, not with so many, so hungry.”

“Brother, you’re a good man,” Jackson offered kindly, “Do as you wish, but the gift was repayment for your encouragement when I was down on my luck.  God blessed me – now He’s blessing you.”  Jackson hugged his old friend before turning to leave.

Scottie gazed longingly at the mouthwatering delicacy.  This would make several meals for his family of eight.  He decided however, to give the package to Jaclyn, the Center’s cook.  She took care of an elderly mother and handicapped nephew.  Maybe this would bring some joy to their lives.  And so he did.

But the treasure didn’t remain with Jaclyn very long.  Ms. Bert nourishes so many of the Center’s bodies and souls, she deserved this more.  So she left an unsigned note and the ham in Ms. Bert’s office.

Ms. Bert rarely cried, but buckets of tears warmed her cheeks today.  She loved ham – especially the Honey Baked brand.  It was a rare treat on her paltry salary.  But she had a better idea. 

Kendyll was their newest employee.  With a mountain of student loans and a broken-down car needing frequent repairs, she worried that food came last on her priority list.  So Ms. Bert summoned Kendyll to her office for a little chat.

Kendyll was at a loss for words at her boss’s generosity.  Such a thoughtful gesture made her feel like she was part of the team.  That was worth a thousand pounds of pork!  She immediately went looking for Scottie, remembering her first day, and how he made her feel so welcome.

“I was given this,” she said, “but I’d be even happier if it went to your family!  Your smile’s the first one that others see when they come here.  You make strangers feel like family, and family’s what our guests need most!”

Scottie understood now.  Jackson’s gift was destined for him.  The circle had closed - the circle of happiness that engulfs generous people.

Lord, we know on this feast of Thanksgiving, that this life is not all there is; that the best is yet to come if we live for You.  So, help us each day to live our lives in ways that honor and please You.  Amen

Dr. Wise

“Don’t be afraid, the Lord formed you in the womb, and He will help you" ~ Isaiah 44:2

Sandra’s son Carter had been born out of wedlock and was little more than a year old.  Her parents had handled the shame of having an unmarried teenage daughter gracefully.   She wouldn’t hurt them like that again.

Besides, she couldn’t care for another child herself – she had no education, no job, and no self confidence.  Sandra knew it would be better for everyone if she didn’t have this child.  The only option left was Dr. Wise.

She approached his clinic not knowing what to expect.  Seth had promised he’d come with her, but at the last minute he had to work.  He’d given her some money for the appointment, but what she really wanted was for him to be here . . . for support.

After a few deep breaths, she entered the office and stepped into the waiting room with no less than a dozen other girls.  She signed in and took the only empty seat.  The embarrassment and guilt of having an abortion was crushing; tears moistened her cheeks.

The nurse looked up from her clipboard at the sole remaining occupant of the waiting room.  “You must be Sandra,” she said warmly.   Sandra nodded.  “Dr. Wise will see you now.  Right this way, the nurse motioned Sandra into a comfortable office.

Moments later, the door opened and a kindly-faced chubby man entered, wearing a white coat bearing the nametag ‘Dr. Wise’.  He shook Sandra’s hand, then retreated behind his desk.  “How can I help today, Sandra?”

Sandra looked down at her slightly swollen belly.  “Well, ah . . . I think maybe I need an abor . . . 

“Abortion?” Dr. Wise interjected.

“Yeah,” she affirmed with a slight nod.

“Well, that’s certainly an option, always is.  First, I’ll have to ask you a few questions,” he smiled; a kindly, cherubic smile.  Sensing her lack of conviction, he hesitated before responding.  “I think I have a better solution, one that’s far less dangerous for you.”  She relaxed, expecting he’d agreed to her request.  

He continued: “So that you won’t have to care for 2 babies at once, let's kill your toddler instead.  Then you could rest before the second one is born.” 

Sandra was horrified . . . but then the crushing wisdom of his counsel set in.  Before the shame left her face, Dr. Wise continued.  “Dear, there are better options, and many willing to help you.”  He’d made his point.  He’d blessed several lives just now.

For any girls out there in this situation, know that there’s always hope and God has a plan for us all, even those unborn.  Find someone you trust, and pray with them.  Our loving God will never abandon you; His grace will encourage you.

Lord Jesus, bless the incredibly noble women who bear another’s child. Give them an abundance of happiness and love and family.  Let them feel Your grace each Mother’s Day with inexpressible gratitude.  Amen

Bring 'Em Home

“Don’t fear your enemies, the Lord will always be with you and help you.” ~ Deuteronomy 31:8

Billy knew all about prayer.  The first thing each morning he’d kneel by his bedside to ask the Lord’s blessing.  Especially today - his Dad was coming home from Afghanistan. 

He and Mom went to the airport and waited.  But his Dad didn’t come home this day.  So they returned home.  Billy kissed his Mom goodnight and went straight to his room and knelt by his bed.

“Hi God, it’s Billy.  Daddy must have missed his flight today.  So we waited for the next one and the ones after that.  Please send Daddy home so Mommy will stop crying.  Thank you!”

The next day, Billy listened to his Mom on the phone ask repeatedly why his Dad hadn’t come home with the rest of the soldiers.  She must have a lot of tears stored up, he thought.  Skipping dinner, Billy knelt again by his bed.

“It’s me again God. I’m worried about Mommy.  When she’s not crying, she just stares out the window.  She’s really worried about Dad.  Will you please send him home now?  I’d sure ‘preciate it.”

It’d been over a month and Billy’s Dad still wasn’t home.  One day a man in a uniform came to the door and Mom stepped outside.  He seemed like a nice man, but all of a sudden Mom started screaming.  Billy was confused – was his Dad finally coming home?  He ran upstairs and knelt by his bed and prayed.

“I need you bad God!  Some man in a uniform just showed up and made Mom scream.  He ‘pologized before he left.  I don’t understand why she’s so upset?  The man said Daddy would be home tomorrow with a pine box.  He must have lost his suitcase I guess.  Thanks for sending him home.”

As the new day dawned, Billy’s Mom stood silently by her child’s bedroom door.  She listened to as her brave, little five year old boy prayed through sobs.

“It’s . . . m’m’me again J’J’Jesus.  I un’ stand about the wood box now.  I guess I forgot to ask You to send Daddy back to us alive; I thought You knew what I meant.  But you did do what I asked, so thank you for trying. The next time I ask for somethin’, make sure I ask the right way.  Please tell Dad I’m sorry I got him dead.  I didn’t mean to.”

Billy opened his tear-swollen eyes to see his Mom standing in the doorway.  “Oh Billy, it’s not your fault,” she said through tears holding her arms out to him.  ”If it hadn’t been for your prayers, your Daddy may never have come home at all.”

God of all goodness, Bless those men and women who serve and have served in their country’s armed forces.  In faith and hope, we trust You to sustain us as we await the safe return of those separated from the ones who love them.  Amen

Sharpen Your Life

“If your axe is blunt and you don’t sharpen it, you have to work harder to use it.  It’s smarter to plan ahead.” ~ Ecclesiastes 10: 10

Pierre, a Canadian of French descent, made his living cutting down trees.  On a normal day, he could buck 50 or more.  At 20-something his pysique resembled chiseled granite.  A muscular, bushy haired, heavily tattooed Canook with a thick sun burnt neck, Pierre cut his tress close to the ground so that sleds might glide right over the stumps.   

Every morning before sunrise, Pierre hiked into the woods to plan his day’s work.  Once daylight cast its guiding light, Pierre would work continuously until sunset, almost never stopping for rest.

Over time, his productivity began to fall off.  Slowly but steadily, he felled fewer and fewer trees.  So he decided to increase his labor hours and started cutting before the sun rose and left well after dark.  Initially, with the added work hours, his results increased slightly, but eventually continued to decline.  The extra time proved senseless.  Pierre doubted his own strength and suspected that old age had arrived sooner than expected.

On occasion, he noticed another lumberjack working the same woods.  He watched from a distance the leaner man take frequent breaks, apparently to rest.  Mysteriously, this guy was more productive – 10 to 15 more wood trophies per day.  Interesting! 

Pierre approached the lumberman to learn his secret, greeting him with a hearty salutation.  The man immediately stopped working, and with a half-suppressed grin invited Pierre to sit along the trunk of the pine log he had just trimmed.  He peeled off some inner bark, rolled it into a ball and chewed it while he spoke.

“The secret is simple my friend,” the scrawnier woodcutter began.  “We work the same hours, use an identical axe, and deliver blows of nearly equal muscle.  But every hour, I take a short break to relax for a while.

Pierre interrupted.  “I don’t need time for rest – I am much younger, stronger and have greater endurance than you do old man!”

“True enough,” the more experienced lumberman replied, not fazed by the insult.  “During this rest period – I carefully hone my axe.  A razor-sharp tool enables me to cut deeper with less effort.  The occasional respite supplies strength and energy.  Sharpen your life, man!”

Isn’t this true in our daily lives also?  We’re so busy with work; we don’t find time to rest or sharpen our minds.  Prayer, meditation, reading good books, hobbies and healthy interaction with people help hone our character and spirituality.  ‘Workaholics’ like alcoholics become addicted to ‘effort’ and find no time to sharpen their brainpower.  Eventually, their lives turn dull and less prolific.  Wasted energy!

Lord Jesus, I want to see every challenge as an opportunity to showcase Your power and grace.  I want to slow down and invite You into this moment.  Today I’m going to pray rather than panic, using that time with You to sharpen my life.  Amen

 

Smoke Filled

“Welcome strangers into your home, they may be angels in disguise." ~ Hebrews 13:2

Before his accident, my son Arthur had been a great prosecutor, renowned for his many victories.  He’d gotten a little cocky on a crotch-rocket, rounded a corner way too fast, and paid a horrific price. 

Thankfully he survived . . . but something inside him died.  Life’s zest evaporated.  Offers of help were sarcastically rejected.  He sits for hours in his wheelchair, a cup of coffee staring back black as sin and bitter as he feels.  I’d hoped the fresh air and rustic ambiance of my small farm would help him adjust.  But self-pity makes his skin crawl with disgust. 

We often argue.  Even our pastor tried to help, hoping a more direct line to the Almighty would soothe Arthur’s troubled mind.  God’s been silent so far. 

Just when I’d given up hope, I read an article suggesting pets can sometimes ease the loneliness of depression.   Dogs seem perfect – they love even genocidal maniacs.

The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I entered the local animal shelter.   My search for the right companion seemed futile until an old dog struggled to his feet near the last pen.  Years had etched his face in shades of gray: cloudy eyes invoked resolute humility. 

"I'll take him," I said without hesitation. 

At home, Arthur wrinkled his face in disgust.  "If I’d wanted a dog, I’d have picked out a better one than that bag of bones.  Take it back!” he waved scornfully 

Anger burned inside me. "You'd better get used to him, son.  He's staying . . . or you’re leaving!" 

We glared at each other like hated enemies, when suddenly the dog wobbled toward Arthur and carefully raised his frail paw.   

That marked the beginning of an intimate friendship.  He and “Smoke” explored the countryside, taking long hikes down dusty roads.  They spent reflective moments on the banks of the old trout pond and even started attending Sunday services together.  As his bitterness faded, Arthur and Smoke made many new friends. 

Late one night, Smoke’s cold nose burrowed into my bed covers.  He’d never done that before.  I ran to Arthur’s bedside, where he lay motionless.  His spirit had left quietly during the darkness. 

My grief deepened two days after the funeral when I discovered Smoke lying peacefully beside Arthur’s vacant bed.  Wrapping Smoke’s lifeless form in his favorite rug, I buried him near the trout pond before silently thanking him for restoring Arthur’s peace of mind. 

Suddenly the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I’d not seen before: that random article, Smoke’s appearance at the animal shelter . . . his complete devotion to Arthur . . . and the proximity of their deaths.  God had answered my prayers after all.

Almighty Father, thank you for our pets.  They teach us to love unselfishly, to live each day to the fullest, and to grow old with dignity.  Teach us to return what they’ve given us to others in need of inspiration.  Amen

Treats and Tricks

“The Lord is a powerful warrior; He will energize your life.” ~ Zephaniah 3:17

Joey was having a bad day.  When he got out of bed, he stepped on his favorite toy truck and broke the wheel off.  At breakfast, he dropped his plate on the floor.  The scrambled eggs splattered all over the cabinet and one of his pancakes stuck to the refrigerator, its sticky syrup dripping onto the floor.  Joey broke his choice crayon right in the middle of art class.  During recess, he tripped and skinned his knee.  Meagan McKeon laughed at his torn trousers which hurt his feelings.

It’s so hard to be a kid, he thought!  Preschool has so many rules – so many things he can’t have and can’t do; so many things that don't turn out the way he imagined.  Some days he drifts from winning to whining, from tears to time-outs.

Even Comet couldn’t make things better today.  They’d gone for a walk after school and his trusty pup had done his business on old man Clark’s lawn.  Joey had forgotten a ‘Poopbag.’  When he saw a brown squirrel, Comet nearly choked himself to death on his leash.

He returned home and threw himself on his bed sobbing.  Mom appeared at his bedroom door.  "What’s the matter, buddy?  Did something bad happen at school today?"

Joey couldn’t stop crying long enough to respond.

"I know what’ll make you happy.  Come with me," she said.  He sat up and followed her to the kitchen. 

“How about a snack?” she asked, pulling various cooking supplies from the cabinets. 

Cool!  Cold milk and some homemade cookies couldn’t hurt he thought to himself, especially if he could eat the chocolate chip cookie dough!

"Here, have some cooking oil,” she offered.  "How about a couple of raw eggs?"

"Gross, Mom!"

"Well then, how ‘bout some flour? Or maybe baking soda?"

"Mom,” Joey complained.  Those things are yucky!"

To which his Mom replied: "Yes, all those things seem bad by themselves.  But when their put together in the right way, they make wonderfully delicious cookies!  God works the same way!  We wonder sometimes, why He lets us go through such bad days.  But God knows that when He puts these things all in His order, they always make us better.  We just have to trust Him!”

She continued.  “God’s crazy about YOU!  He sends you flowers every Spring and a sunrise every morning.  Whenever you want to talk, He'll listen.  He can live anywhere in the universe, yet He chose your heart, Joey.” 

And with those loving words, she pulled a fresh batch of homemade cookies from the oven – treats that smelled like happiness and love and tenderness  . . . and chocolate chips.

Jesus, we know that happiness doesn’t simply come from getting what we want, but from hard work, learning from our mistakes and living your will.  So, thank you for all the bad days that tried to defeat me.  They make the good days with You even more special.  Amen

If Everyone Cared

“More blessings come from giving than receiving.”  ~ Acts 20:35

Walking briskly down the busy sidewalk, Cynthia spotted a beggar squatting on the corner.  Other pedestrians gave his dirty, unshaven looks an unsympathetic glance before moving on.  She however, was moved by compassion and hesitated before looking down. "Sir, are you all right?"

He looked up cautiously.  This was a woman clearly accustomed to the finer things of life.  Perfect hair, expensive leather – she’d probably never missed a meal.  "Leave me alone," he growled.

 

Unfazed by his insolence, she remained frozen in place.  "Are you hungry?" she asked.

"No, I just finished dining with Madonna,” he offered sarcastically.  “Go away!!"

The woman's face brightened.  A genuine, infectious smile spread across her – the kind that helps make friends wherever you go.  “You don’t remember me - do you Jack?”

The old man searched her face with his moist, red eyes.   "I’m not sure . . . you do look familiar."

Much older, a little heavier then when she’d wandered these same streets years before.  "I came to the city many winters ago looking for work,” Cynthia began, “but couldn't find anything.  I’d been kicked out of my apartment when I ran out of money.  The street became my home."

Jack lit up with a smile. "Now I remember," he said. "You were scared to death; cold and nearly starving.  I could see death behind your tired eyes."

"I know," Cynthia continued.  "You gave me a roast beef sandwich and a cup of coffee.  Then you handed me some bills and told me to get a room for a shower and a good night’s rest.  I’ve never been so grateful!  But when I looked for you the following day, you’d vanished."

"So I resumed my job search . . . with confidence.  I got a job that very afternoon.  It wasn’t much, but I worked my way up.  Eventually I started my own business that, with God’s grace, prospered."

She opened her purse and pulled out a business card.  "When you’re finished here, go see Ms. Byrons, my company’s Human Resources Manager.  I'll make sure she finds something for you to do around the office."  She grinned.  "I think she might even give you a little advance so that you can buy some clothes and get a place to live until you get on your feet.  And if you ever need anything, my door’s always open."

Jack couldn’t remember the last time that tears washed over his leathered cheeks.  "How can I ever thank you?

"No need, Cynthia answered.  "To God goes the glory - He led me to you!"  As I look back on my life, the moments when I have truly lived are those done in the shadow of HIs love. 

Lord Jesus, “if everyone cared and nobody cried, if everyone loved and nobody lied, if everyone shared and swallowed their pride, then we’d see the day when nobody died.”  Amen (from Nickelback’s “If Everyone Cared”) 

The $1.17 Miracle

“Carry each other’s burdens and you will please God." ~ Galatians 6:2

Shanice pulled a pink piggy bank from its hiding place in her closet.  She dumped its contents onto the floor and counted it methodically.   Placing the coins back in the bank, she slipped out the back door and skipped decisively to Walgreen’s Drug Store.

She waited patiently for the pharmacist to acknowledge her.   Shanice stomped her little feet and repulsively cleared her throat to get his attention.  No luck!  Finally she took a quarter from her bank and slapped it on the counter.  That did it!

"What do you want?  Can’t you see I’m busy?" he said in an annoyed tone without waiting for her reply.

"Well,” she answered back, hands on hips and in the same annoyed tone.  “I need to talk to you about my brother!   "He's really, really sick . . . and I’ve got money to buy a miracle."  If it isn't enough, I’ll get the rest.  Just tell me how much!"

"Come again," said the skeptical pharmacist.

"His name is Terrell and he has something bad growing inside his head.  Daddy says only a miracle can save him now.  So how much does a miracle cost?"

"Honey,” the pharmacist said with newfound tenderness.  “We don't sell miracles here.  I’m afraid I can't help you." 

A well dressed man waiting for his prescription overheard the conversation and couldn’t help but ask: "What kind of a miracle does your brother need?"

I don't know," Shanice replied, eyes welling up.  "I just know he's really sick and Mommy says he needs an operation that Daddy can't afford, so I want to use my money, all $1.17 of it."

"Well, what a coincidence," smiled the man, "Miracles for little brothers happen to be on sale today for $1.17.  You’re in luck!"

Taking her money in one hand, he grasped her mitten and said, "Take me to home to meet your family.  Let's see if I have the miracle you need."

That smartly dressed man turned out to be a neurosurgeon.  The operation was completed free of charge and it wasn't long until Terrell was home again and doing well.  Shanice overheard Mom and Daddy talking about the miraculous chain of events.  "I wonder how much that surgery cost?" her mom questioned.  Shanice smiled.  She knew exactly how much - $1.17, plus the love of a faithful child.

Things happen to us that at the time seem horrible, painful and unfair.  Upon reflection, we realize that without overcoming those obstacles, we never would have recognized our strength, courage or potential.

Everything happens for a reason.  Nothing occurs by chance or by luck.  Illness, injury, love, lost moments of true greatness, and sheer stupidity all occur to test the limits of our souls.

Lord Jesus, I am my brother’s keeper!  Help us who have received so freely from You, give as freely in return, in order to enjoy both the pleasure of giving and the happiness of receiving.  Amen

 

Heaven's Seven

“Earn respect by doing your best to live at peace with everyone." ~ Romans 12: 17-18

For the second time this month, her daughter came home from school in tears and Carolyn seemed helpless to stop it.  She’d been so happy in middle school.  But that had all changed.  Something about this seemed frighteningly familiar as her thoughts drifted back to own childhood experience.

Carolyn’s story began in elementary school where she made friends with six little girls. The seven soon became a clique.  By middle school, the clique had become more like a pack.  They only dressed name-brand clothing and wore their hair exactly the same way (long and straight).  They called themselves Heaven’s Seven and scoffed at other girls who couldn't (or wouldn't) act like them. 

Heaven’s Seven became experts at exclusion and cruelty, terrorizing both kids and adults.  Teachers and administrators were aware of their intimidation but were powerless to stop it.

Parents were thrilled by their daughters’ popularity.   Carolyn’s mom even had Heaven’s Seven T-shirts printed for the girls to wear at their eighth grade graduation.

Though she belonged to Heaven’s Seven, Carolyn felt trapped.  She knew it was wrong, but didn’t have the courage to confront her friends about their bullying or to leave the security of the group. 

Carolyn begged her parents to let her switch schools, but they refused.  The family had a long-standing connection to the school; three of Carolyn’s siblings were still enrolled there.  Her dad pitched a fit at the cost of her attending a private school.

The effect of her complacency bothers her to this day.  She paid a heavy price; one of guilt and fear.  She’s not the same person; she’d never treat anyone that way now.  But while these experiences lay in her past, she’s the mother of three young daughters.  That plants her right back in that circle; learning how to maneuver girls and friendships and personalities.

As she trudges up the stairs now to comfort her sobbing tween, her heart aches.  She knows from past experience that people can be thoughtless, cruel, and . . . even mean.  But her children are so very lucky.  Her past is their prologue. 

Her kids enter new situations assuming only one outcome – wide smiles and ample hugs.  They’re blessed with a Mom that understands the meaning of integrity, the value of compassion, and the courage to help them through it - lessons learned the hard way.  So help her God!

The start of a new school year is, for most, a time of excitement at seeing old friends and making new ones.  However, there are some kids who see the first day of school as a day of execution . . . victims of bullying because they’re different. 

Lord, protect those who are teased physically, verbally and online as well as those whose self-worth seems tied to making others hurt.  We pray for those who think they’re alone; those whose hope is disappeared.  Help them Jesus. Strengthen them.  Show them your love.  Amen

Txt BFFs 4evr

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart!" ~ Proverbs 3:5

Walker gazed into the open casket and brushed the hair away from her pale forehead.  He tried to memorize every contour of the beautiful face he wouldn’t forget.  He stared at her empty eyes, her closed mouth, her frozen heart.  Michaela couldn’t feel the love that surrounded her now; she could no longer speak or see the agony in his expression.

An unfamiliar man approached and touched him lightly on the back. “We’re so glad you came,” whispered Michaela’s father. “She talked about you all the time.  She even asked that her cell phone be buried with her so that you could still send her messages!”

He muttered “I can’t believe . . .” as sadness erased his remaining thought.

“Michaela passed away three days ago.  She suffered from heart disease since childhood,” her father said.  “We kept it a family secret - she loved being treated normally.”  Eyes now moist with grief, her father added, “She knew you’d come!”  And with that, he gently positioned her cell phone into Michaela’s palm and walked away.

Later as Walker sat alone in the chapel, he cried out to God: “Why her?  She didn’t deserve to die.  And dammit, I don’t deserve to suffer either!”

He got no answer – he really didn’t expect one from God.  He held his phone and typed, “u taught me how 2 care; u shwd me how 2 luv u.  but u forgot to teach me how 2 let u go! I <3 u!”

He sent the message knowing full well that she’d never respond.  But sending it cleansed his soul – it made him feel loved again.

Seconds later his phone beeped sending a cold shiver down his spine.  The sender’s number didn’t appear on the screen but tears rolled down Walker’s cheeks as he read the message.

“Let go of my hand, but dont ever let go of gods hand.  hell b holding my hand 2!”

A warm, pleasant glow replaced the spiny chill – the rush from a mountain of joyful memories remembered as if they happened yesterday.  Instantly he sensed God's grace to discover what he needed to move on.

Four of the most powerful words in the universe are “let go, let God.”  No matter what’s missing from your life – the love of someone special, an activity of great value, or a feeling of well-being - know that God is filling your need right now.

Take a deep breath.  Release it slowly; accepting the reality that God's wisdom is ever present, ready to fill you with new understanding, energy, and life.  Let Him fill every void, every emptiness that seems to separate you from the desires of your heart.  Let go! Let God!

I often forget to let go and give your control, Lord.  Help me realize that when You close one door, You open the one You want me to walk through.  I want to follow You.  I want what You desire for me.  Amen