A Touch of Class

“Help carry one another’s burdens." ~ Galatians 6:2

Crying had always been a healthy release, but for Kara it became a habit lately.  Sadness washed in like an unwanted wave, knocking her sandcastles flat.  She stared aimlessly out of the window.

Four months away, she thought.  The moment of truth, the stepping stone to the real world.  She’d been preparing for 13 memorable years.  For a mystical moment she’s there – at the ceremony in front of administrators, teachers, and proud parents.  In her mind’s eye, Kara scanned a crowd absent her Dad.  More tears.  She let them fall, not raising a hand to stop them.

Her Dad Michael beat prostate cancer five years ago.  He’d walked his oldest daughter down the aisle and seen the birth of a grandchild.  But his goal of seeing Kara graduate would not happen.

Now, he’s battling cancer of the bile duct.   Doctors have given him six weeks max.  Barely able to stand, he’s even too weak to attend the Sports Award banquet tonight when she’d receive her All-Conference Volleyball Award.

Memories blast through her mind; funny anecdotes about stupid things that they’d done together; the good, the bad and sometimes the crazy.  God she would miss his pep talks!  The day passed in a blur of smiles and tears.

Readying herself for the banquet, Kara hugged her Mom who was muttering about her baby growing up too fast.  She smiled at her bedridden Dad as he tried not to show any emotion, acting as if were just another day.

As they entered the auditorium, everyone was jabbering excitedly as they found their seats.  Soon the lights dimmed and Principal Chu stepped to the podium.

“Tonight is special,” she began.  “Special because one of our students will share a life milestone with her Dad who’ll unfortunately miss so many others.  Kara, will you come forward please?”

As Kara approached the stage, the drum line pounded out an energetic march followed by the school orchestra’s rendition of the Pomp and Circumstance Graduation March.  Her volleyball coach met her at the steps and cloaked her in a graduation cap and gown and presented her a bouquet of white roses.

Thunderstruck, she searched the crowd.

Mom wheeled Michael down the aisle to deafening applause.  From his front row seat Michael mouthed “I love you Peaches.”

Kara stepped forward, shaking Mrs. Chu’s hand and received the piece of parchment that would forever remind her of the kindness of so many who’d made this special event happen.  It even made the thought of going through life without her Dad a little more bearable since he’d at least seen her graduate.

"Perhaps," she wondered, "this is pure ecstasy.  This is what comes when a battle is over and you reach God’s eternal salvation."

Lord, open our eyes that we may see You in others.  Open our ears that we may hear the cries of the sick, hungry, frightened and oppressed.  Renew us in Your spirit.  Free us and make us one.  Amen

Flowers That Breath Life

“Care for others as much as you care for yourself." ~ Philippians 2:4

After decades of grueling work, Yoshi and Yasuko planned to travel around Japan after retirement.  They’d led a difficult but rewarding life, raising two children and 60 cows together on a small dairy farm.  Then life dealt them a devastating blow.

At age 52, Yasuko suddenly experienced complications from diabetes causing gradual peripheral vision loss and eventually total blindness.  As an independent, organized woman, Yasuko suddenly hated feeling dependent and inept at adapting to her new environment.

Devastated at the prospect of immobility, Yasuko shut herself away from the world and began living a life of seclusion in her home.  Her normally cheerful expression became one of sadness.  Few things made her smile.

But her loving husband wouldn’t give up so easily.  Toshi, a man of the earth, had a keen awareness for the season’s transition.  Spring was all about the sounds, the smells and the rising air temperature.  He took Yasuko by the hand and tenderly led her to their small garden.

“Do you feel it,” he asked.  “Can you feel the breeze kiss your cheek?  Can you smell the flower’s intoxicating fragrance?”

Even without her sight, Yasuko could sense it, inhaling deeply like each breath was a time machine.  For those precious few moments she was sighted again as a young girl skipping through a meadow covered with shibazakura (we call it phlox).

She loved the small flowers for their daring simplicity, their tenacious spirit, and for growing where they weren’t supposed to.  For the first time in months, Yasuko felt alive again.

Toshi knew exactly what to do.

He quit his dairy farm and started work on creating a carpet of the pink flowers surrounding their house.  For two years, Toshi chopped down trees, prepared the soil, and planted thousands of seeds which blossomed into the sweet-smelling pink shibazakura flower.

At first, the two would stroll together so she could enjoy the bouquet.  But soon, their story went viral.  Today their house attracts thousands of tourist annually - both for the flowers and the touching love story that brought the garden into being.

Now in his 80’s, Toshi still weeds the fields by hand.  Old dairy sheds were converted into a museum so visitors can see old photographs of the couple.  Social media posts provide Yasuko a never-ending stream of new friends to interact with.

Married for over 60 years, this adorable couple stills strolls the grounds hand in hand.

There’s a lot of talk about how selfish the world has become, and about how many people have trouble prioritizing others.  It’s beautiful to see good Samaritans in action, no matter who the beneficiary is, but there’s something extra special about seeing a husband or wife go the extra mile for his or her spouse.

Lord Almighty, sometimes I pray . . . well, only for myself.  Help mold me into an instrument of Your love; a selfless mindset filled with hope, encouragement and inspiration for all those near to me.  Amen

St. Rocco

“Bless the beasts and the children." ~ Glendon Swartout (1970)

Katie’s family had recently moved to the countryside, a change the teenager (13) had not yet warmed up to.  She secretly vowed to hold her parents in ‘contempt’ for as long as it took.  Ice cream wouldn’t expunge her misery, but it was a start.

As they walked, she passed a young man sitting on the ground sharing a cone with his puppy. “Cute dog,” Katie said warmly.

“Free dog,” its owner replied.  David, her Dad asked what he’d meant by that.  The man explained that he was moving to Vermont and didn’t think urban life would be good for the pup.  Katie saw her opening and pounced.  “What’s his name?” she asked.

“He’s a 5-month-old Doberman/Chocolate Lab mix named St. Rocco,” the man offered.  “Make someone a nice pet.”

David’s reticence was no match for Katie’s yearning.

“That’s an odd name,” Katie said hoping for an explanation.  “Yep,” was the only response she got.  The rest was ‘history’ as Katie introduced the adorable pup to the rest of the family.

But St. Rocco was no saint, proving impossible to wear out.  He took it personally that the mailman would ‘encroach’ on his home, so he systematically shredded every piece that came through the mail slot.

Puppies eat when bored.  Rocco ate 3 dress shoes, a pair of pants and a whole plate of brownies.  But he was smart too; quickly learning the benefits of life beneath a toddler’s high chair.

They soon discovered that there was something truly unique about Rocco.  He followed them to church every Sunday, running the whole way behind their old Ford Explorer.  When he reached the church, Rocco took up a position on the porch, greeting the congregation.

Throughout the service he waited patiently for the children who were liberal with hugs and treats.  Always the gentleman, parishioners never worried about torn pantyhose or muddy paw prints on their Sunday best.  And when the congregation dispersed, Rocco followed the family home.

Still puzzled by the dog’s name, Katie googled it.  She learned that St. Rocco (c.1350-c.1378) was the Patron Saint for DOGS.  Moved by the suffering of those dying from the Black Death that ravaged Europe in the 14^th century, Rocco volunteered as a nurse at one of the city’s hospitals.

When he himself contracted the disease, Rocco dragged himself into a cave where he could die alone.  He’d just made himself a bed of leaves when a dog approached him with a large bread loaf in its mouth.  Every day the dog faithfully returned with a fresh loaf until Rocco miraculously recovered and resumed his volunteer work.  It’s believed that he cured hundreds of plague victims by making the sign of the cross on their feverish foreheads.

It’s a ‘God thing!”

Saint Rocco, while following the footsteps of Christ, you found the poor and plague stricken, curing many.  Thank You!  By your example, may our hearts become tender and loving toward the suffering and rejected of this world.  Amen

Faith Fitness

“Your body, given to you by God, is a temple for the Holy Spirit." ~ 1 Corinthians 6:19

Gerald was on the heavy side.  He lived amidst a toxic cloud of judgement; most people saw only poor self-control and weak mindedness.  Some folks have invisible addictions; to tobacco, caffeine or painkillers.  But his was too obvious to miss; he wore it like a thick overcoat.

"Eat less, exercise more."   Seemed easy enough.  But how could he gad about town with their  stares boring into him.  The one place that Gerald felt free to open up and reveal his true self, where others accepted, valued and loved him, was his Bible Study group.

Luck had turned in his favor when Jonah had invited him to church that day.  Gerald froze.  “I don’t think I’m quite ready to go to church,” he’d replied.  “I’m in a funk right now.  Gimme a few months to straighten my life out then ask me again.”

Gerald’s response had drawn a sad look from Jonah who explained that “you don’t have to “straighten out” your life before coming to church.  Perfect people surely don’t need a church.”

Jonah continued.  “A church is more than a ‘belief’ system; it’s a ‘belong’ system.  It’s like being adopted; adopted into the family of Christ,” he explained.

His first visit to St. Paul’s was terrifying – was he dressed right, would he be accepted, is this the right one?  And what about all those people who studied the Bible?

But now he felt more relaxed.  Small groups were much less intimidating.  Today they explored     1 Corin 6: 19-20 and discussed the importance of caring for whatever body graced us with in order to be used for God's glory.

“Health clubs” he pictured in his mind’s eye.  “Those intimidated places filled with incredible hulks and smiling supermodels, surrounded by sinister-looking machines.   How silly he’d look in front of those people.”

Fear chilled his spine - just like when he’d first considered going to church.  People who need it most are often the ones who avoid it.  Yet the imperfect, out-of-shape, people like him are the ones who need it most.

“If I don’t do it for myself,” he thought, “I should do it for Jesus.”  The local gym would be his next stop before going home.

For thousands of us faith and fitness are colliding.  Seventy-five percent of Americans are Christians.  Sixty-five percent of us are overweight.  The stats paint an unflattering picture of a rather unhealthy Christian population who may exercise their faith, but not their bodies.

Our bodies are one of the many things we need to steward for God.  One of the ways we steward them well is to live healthy lives – exercise, eat right, sleep well.  Healthy bodies and souls are equally important.

Holy Father, run by my side, live in my heartbeat, give strength to my steps, give purpose to my struggle.  Unleash the best in me as I give you the beast in me.  May my workout bring glory to you Lord.  Amen.

The Last Convert

“Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved." ~ Acts 16:31

A Scottish evangelist, John Harper was well known throughout the U.K. as a charismatic speaker who led many to Christ through his passionate preaching.  In 1912, Rev. Harper received an invitation to speak at Chicago’s Moody Church and boarded the Titanic on April 11^th.

While some of world’s richest people spoke of business deals, acquisitions and material desires, the man of undying faith went about sharing his love of Christ with others.

Near midnight on April 14^th, an iceberg scraped the ship's starboard side, ripping open six watertight compartments.    As the sea poured in, chaos ensued.  The "unsinkable" ship was doomed.

Quickly, Harper took his six year old daughter to lifeboat 11.  He kissed her good-bye knowing he’d never see her again.  It’s reasonable to assume that the widowed preacher could have easily gotten into the same lifeboat; but it never seemed to have crossed his mind.

He knew there was a task more important than saving his own life – to help those who were unprepared to face eternity.

Harper gave his life jacket to another passenger, ending any chance of his own survival.  He shouted, "Women, children and “unsaved” people into the lifeboats."  Against a backdrop of terror and mayhem, Harper focused on his God-given purpose.  Survivors reported seeing him on his knees, surrounded by terrified passengers, praying for their salvation.

Less than 3 hours later, Titanic disappeared beneath the North Atlantic.  Over 1,000 people fought for their lives in the icy water.  Harper swam to every person he could, urging them to put their faith in Christ.

“Are you saved?” he cried.

“No, I’m not saved!” a desperate man replied.

Harper, knowing he couldn’t survive long in the ice-cold water, took off his life jacket and threw it to the man.  “You need this more than I do!”

In the water, Harper moved sluggishly as the frigid water wore him down.  If they weren't saved or if they didn't understand, he quickly offered the Christmas message: that Jesus came to earth to die that we might live eternally.  This Gospel doesn’t spare us from a drowning ocean, but it does spare us from eternal damnation.

Eventually, John Harper too sank beneath the icy waters.  While other people were trying to buy their way onto lifeboats and selfishly trying to save their own lives, John Harper gave up his life so that others could be saved.

There, alone in the night with two miles of water below him, the desperate man, the recipient of Harper’s life vest begged Christ to save his soul.   He was John Harper's last convert; one of only six people out of 1,517 who were pulled from the icy graveyard on that dreadful night.

Holy Father, I believe that your son, Jesus Christ died for my sins, was resurrected from the dead, is alive, and hears my prayer.  I want You to become the Lord of my life, to rule and reign in my heart from this day forward.  Amen

Daddy, Watch Me

“Children are a blessing; God’s greatest gift." ~ Psalm 127:3

I’m Benjamin and I’m four.  Sophie is my bratty little sister; she’s almost two.  Dad stayed home from work today and took us to the playground. 

Everybody loves the park – kids swing and slide; dogs chase tennis balls; even the birds sing happy songs.  Mom takes me and Sophie as often as she can, but today we’re super excited ‘cause it’s Daddy’s turn.  We can’t wait to show him all we learned since last time.

The air’s warm, sunlight makes my skin hot.  Flowers look really pretty and freshly cut green grass smells good.  It’s a neat day to be outside.

“Daddy, watch me!” as I fly down the slide yelling “Daddy, watch this!”  I climb the ladder to go again and shout again “Daddy, I need you to watch me.  DADDY!!!”

I see him over there on the bench, messing with his iPhone and my shoulders slump.  When he barely glances my way, Sophie notices and frantically tries to get his attention too.

She spins round and around, making her dress twirl.   She’s such a little beauty queen, the sun glowing behind her golden hair.  She keeps glancing to see if Daddy’s watching.  He isn’t.

My head sags to my chest, but only for a second as I look for another cool thing to do.

So I push Sophie in the swing.   She loves it!  Cooing and smiling with every push.   But Daddy doesn’t see us though.  His eyes are fixed on his phone.  We’re kinda used to it, but that doesn’t make it OK.

If Daddy would put that stupid thing down for a minute, I’d tell him that “Playtime at the park will be over before you know it, as will our childhood.”

“We won’t always want to come to the park with you, Daddy.  There’ll come a point when we stop trying, stop calling your name, stop bothering to interrupt your phone time.”

“Because you’ve shown us that your phone is more important than me and Sophie.  I know your heart says differently, but your actions are screaming way too loudly.”

“Talk to us Daddy.  Tell us about the clouds and the God who made them.  Teach me how to catch a fly ball.  Tickle Sophie’s tummy and enjoy the baby belly laugh that disappears too quickly.”

“Put your eyes back on the real prize . . . us kids.”

Almost 75% of parents use a mobile device at least once during mealtime and many are more absorbed in the device than in their kids.  Fortunately it’s pretty easy to break the habit.

Guess what happens when you put down the iPhone, get on the floor and simply mutter, “Hey, you wanna play?”  Unicorns, rainbows, puppies and butterflies.

“So look up from your phones, shut down those displays, we have a finite existence, a set number of days.   Don’t waste your life getting caught in the Net, because when the end comes, nothing’s worse than regret!” (“Look Up” a poem by Gary Turk)

Relax Your Grip

“Trust the Lord with all your heart; don’t rely on what you think you know.” – Proverbs 3:5

A cool breeze danced among the tall pines outside the Willows Golf  Club.  As had become customary, Roy spent many a summer afternoon out on the verandah with his grandson Chase who’d just finished his first sub-100 round.  Not bad for an 11 year old.  The pair watched in silence as golfers hooked and sliced through the valley below.

Roy hadn’t played the game since various materials replaced the rubber-wound insides of a golf ball, yet as a spectator, he still found pleasure in the pastime.  His gaze passed from an icy glass of lemonade to the ragged foursome struggling up the hill to the ninth green.

One was zigzagging about the fairway like a bumblebee chasing nectar.  Two others seemed to be digging for buried treasure.  The remaining duffer had just foozled an approach shot and berated his young caddie for coughing during his up-swing.

“Few people,” said Roy, “have the proper golfing temperament?  Judging by what I see, many possess no qualification at all except money enough for the drinks at the end of the round.”

He’d caught Chase’s attention so Roy continued his rant.  “The ideal golfer never loses his temper.  I never lost my temper back when I played.  On rare occasion after missing a shot, I broke my club across my knee; but I did so calmly and sensibly.  That club was obviously defective; I needed a new one anyway,” he grinned.  Chase loved the old man’s stories.

“Secondly, and this is critical young man,” Roy emphasized by looking Chase straight in the eye, “loosen your grip.  It’s counter intuitive . . . but it works!”

“Wouldn’t a tight grip and a lot of force make the ball travel farther?” Chased asked.

“Just the opposite,” Roy responded.  “When you try to hit a golf ball with a tight grip, your arms stiffen and your entire body gets rigid.  The ball doesn’t usually respond well.  But with a loose grip, your arms and body are flexible and fluid, and often the ball sails farther through the air.”

“Life is that way too,” Roy continued.  “We tend to choke up when we’re put in pressure situations.  We get overly anxious about its outcome;  unsure about our ability to cope and too dependent on the results.”

“Life throws us all kinds of balls: worm-burners, rain-makers, shanks, and yanks.  But God is the only one who knows what’s coming.  When we relax our grip on life and focus on Jesus, then we have the potential that He’s given us to split the fairway or even knock a hole-in-one.”

“Until next week,” Roy declared setting his lemonade on the table and motioning Chase to follow.

Lord, help me loosen my grip on life as You tighten Yours on mine; Help me quit trying to not only control situations but people.  Be the one I go to for security and the one who directs YOUR way rather than MY way.  Amen

God Chat

“When you search for me with all your heart, you will find me." ~ Jeremiah 29:13

Amelia couldn’t remember the impact.  That part of the accident was a blank.  She only vaguely recalled crawling from the car; then everything went black.

In the months that followed, Amelia had numerous surgeries; bringing intense, stabbing pains.  Barbiturate cocktails kept her reasonably comfortable.  She could only listen and watch depending on what strength she could muster.

Today, lying flat on her back and completely immobile, Amelia stared at an empty ceiling.  She got angry at the only one she knew would listen.  “God, I know how fortunate I've been in my life, but I've had my heartbreaks too and I don’t want any more!”

God: “Good morning, it’s good to hear from you again.”

Amelia’s brain registered complete shock.  Was she really talking to God?   If so, why not continue.  “Please Lord, take away my pain.”

God: “It’s not mine to take away; it’s for you to give up.”

Amelia: “Won’t You make me whole again Father?”

God: “Dear child, your body is only temporary; your spirit remains whole.  Suffering draws you away from worldly cares and brings you closer to Me.”

Sensing this conversation was not going the way she’d hoped, Amelia changed tactics.  “OK, God, at least grant me patience to heal.”

God: Patience Amelia, is the byproduct of misfortune.  It isn’t granted, it’s earned.  I give you endless blessings, happiness is up to you.”

Amelia: “So I should pray to use the gift of free will wisely?”  God: “Now you’re talking.”

Amelia: “Help me love others as much as you love me.”

God: I think you nailed it!  Rest now my friend, I’ve got this.”

Amelia sank deep into the soft pillows that enveloped her head.  She felt a quiver of joy.  To try and describe the peace and presence of the Holy Spirit in words is like trying to describe the Grand Canyon to someone who’s never been there.

When Amelia woke, her memory was as vivid as “The Nutcracker” on a new 60” plasma TV.  She glanced at a page that had fallen open from the Bible resting on her hospital table.  The print read: "When you search for me with all your heart, you will find me.”  (Jeremiah 29:13)

God loves to hear us talk to Him.  Prayer is like saying, "Hello, God, it's me.  I'd like to get to know You better.  Here's what's going on in my life, and I'd sure like Your thoughts on how to handle it.”  Once we've prepared our hearts to listen through prayer, we're more likely to hear the voice of God.  He speaks to us in many ways, through His Word, our thoughts, through conversations with others and through circumstance.

Lord Jesus, I know I’m a sinner, and I ask for Your forgiveness.  I believe you died for my sins and rose from the dead.  I trust and follow You as my Lord and Savior.  Guide my life and help me to do Your will.  Love, Amelia

Who'll Sing When I'm Gone

“Whatever lies ahead, may I be singing when the evening comes." ~ Matt Redman

The day was almost perfect - fresh flowers, a peaceful view, and his favorite music, Matt Redman’s “10,000 Reasons.”  Almost perfect . . . because the old priest was dying.  No more walks in the park, no more baptisms.  He’d not see another snowfall.

The pain that once burned like fire had faded into an icy numbness.  He’d meet his maker soon as well as all those who’d passed before him.  A certain joy filled the fragile heart that would soon beat for the last time.

He was everything you'd want a priest to be - humble and respectful, devoutly faithful, a rock in troubled times.  Denying himself the personal comforts of family and home life, Father O’Brien loved without boundaries and gave more than he kept for himself.  A true hero who inspired all those who sought the Kingdom of God.

O’Brien took notice as the seasoned Oncologist entered the room.  She had a soldier’s posture; every action was precise and purposeful.  “Father, I’m afraid we’ve done all we can,” she said in the cold and distant way professionals do.

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing?” he countered.

She nervously adjusted the IV drip, not sure what to say next.  “Can I ask you a question Padre?”

“Of course,” he said managing a smile etched with the deep lines of laughter and wisdom.

“The Catholic Church has been around for centuries, yet the world seems more hostile and selfish than ever before.  Hasn’t your Christianity failed?”

The gentle man paused before responding.

“Diabetes,” he began, breaths coming in ragged, shallow gasps, “has been around long before Christ.  Over the past three decades, the number of people with diabetes has more than doubled globally, making it one of the most important public health challenges on earth.  Despite the odds, your profession continues seeking new ways to combat the epidemic, right?”

“I suppose,” she answered wondering where the old codger man was going with this.

“Unlike me, Christianity is NOT on life support.”  Pleased with his attempt at humor, the old priest continued.  “Christianity, like insulin, must be applied daily if it’s to make a difference.”

“Christianity isn't normal anymore,” he continued.  “It never should’ve been.  We’re finding new ways of reaching people.  Churches that thrive today are vibrant, cross-cultural congregations that aren't afraid to be seen as atypical.”

Someone once asked Billy Graham, “If Christianity is valid, why is there so much evil in the world?”  To this the famous preacher replied, “With so much soap, why are there so many dirty people in the world?”

Father O’Brien had provided one final dash of hope before his journey heavenward.

Lord God, make us to be a church that is thankful to You and for You.  May Your Word and work captivate our hearts, minds and actions.  Cause us to grow in Your Word and walk in a manner worthy of it.  Amen

A Night in the Forest

He’ll not fail you or abandon you, so never be afraid.” ~ Deuteronomy 31:8

The forest Amir entered with his father that evening seemed mystical at first.  Thick foliage formed an arch of fairytale-green above them.  In the distance, a lone songbird was soon joined by his beaked companions, creating a symphony of song.

But the further they trekked, the more it turned daunting and primeval.  A woody, organic haze hung like a sentinel to rotting leaves and branches.  Massive roots spread-eagled the ground, twisting like the backs of sea serpents.  Amir stood in awe of mighty, majestic trees; their knotted arms rising ever upwards, awash in a tender glow.

They arrived at a wide glade, where the trees fell away, revealing a sky speckled with the evening’s first stars.  A cool night breeze swept over Amir like tiny pin pricks.  An ore-gold moon rose quietly in the distance, casting a honeyed sheen over the foliage.

In his village’s culture, young boys became men only after being left in the forest by themselves, tied to a log and blindfolded until dawn.

As he heard his father’s footsteps disappear into the distance, the forest grew eerily quiet.  The only thing Amir heard was his own shallow breathing.  Chills raced down his spine as the rustle of leaves echoed in the night.

Crunch, crunch . . . crunch.  The sound was short and harsh, like a noisy cat stalking its prey.

Fear choked him as cold sweat dripped from his face.  His heart pounded like a base drum.  Amir thought he saw something moving.  Could it be his imagination?  A twig snapped.  His heart skipped.

Then things grew quiet again.  A slight breeze whistled softly as the once-busy ecosystem rested.

As dawn broke, distant traffic sounds filtered through trees.  Amir took a deep contented breath and removed the blindfold.  Two robins pecked in the grass looking for worms.  A bed of daffodils glowed yellow in the morning light.  He hugged himself, while a nippy breeze poked through his thin cotton shirt.

And then she saw it.  His father sat across the way; a watchful guardian.  He’d been there all night protecting him from any harm.  Amir ran to his father, hugging him in a loving embrace.

When they were leaving, Amir risked a glance over his shoulder.  The forest looked freeze-frame perfect in the enhanced light of the full dawn.  His father had protected him last night, just like his Heavenly Father does every second of every day.

God is no less present behind the shadow of the moon than right beside you right now.  In fact, without His omnipresence, prayer would be ineffective.  He promises you: “Before you call I will answer; I’ll hear while you’re still speaking.”

Thank you God for guiding and protecting me.  The times I thought I could save myself ended in failure.  I’ve committed many mistakes in my life.  Forgive me and lead me on the right path with Your love and patience.  Amen