A Father's Instinct

 “The watches of you like a protective shade." ~ Psalm 121:5

Like so many New Englanders, Tom adored the Red Sox.  He coached his kids through Little League and, occasionally, took them to one of the most beloved MLB ballparks on earth - Fenway Park.  

He’d scored 3 tickets for a game against the White Sox.  With his two younger sons in tow, the usher escorted them to front-row seats just behind the Red Sox dugout.  Tom’s smile couldn’t adequately reflect his amazement.  The lush turf, the Green Monster - they were so close.

The game was everything they’d hoped for.  With the score tied 2-2, Bosox second baseman Dave Stapleton swung late, slashing a foul ball into the stands to the right side of home plate.  The ball whistled into the seats so fast it was hard to follow.  Tom assumed the ball entered the dugout. 

Until he heard his 4-year-old son's sickening scream.

Tom looked down at Jonathan.  Blood gushed from a wound over his left eye.  The ball had fractured his son’s skull.

Boston slugger Jim Rice, one of the game’s biggest stars at the time, stood on the top stair of the dugout.  He couldn't see exactly where the ball landed but heard the horrific thud, the "Ooooh" of the crowd - and the dreadful silence that followed.

Sprinting from the dugout, he leapt into the crowd. Cradling the unresponsive child in his burly arms, Rice hustled back to the dugout where he was immediately attended to by the team’s physician.  The scene took less than 60 seconds.

Jonathon’s life-threatening head injury required emergency surgery to relieve the pressure on his brain.  Every second counted.  Rice's quick thinking helped save the boy’s life.  Rice even requested that the hospital bill be sent to him personally.

Incredibly, Jonathan left the hospital 5 days later.  They’d reunite 8 months later at Fenway when Jonathon delivered the first pitch of the ‘83 season.  

The best thing Jim Rice did in a Red Sox uniform wasn’t mentioned on his Hall of Fame plaque.  It doesn't show up in his stats or support his stature as one of the most dominant hitters of his era.

Rice, a father of two young children, was thinking of only one thing.  "My child," he said.

God our Father in heaven is the perfect example of what a father should be - a life-giver, instructor, provider, and protector.  He watches over us; never needing a break from the incessant needs of His children.  

The God “who keeps you” won’t doze off at 11 pm scrolling through notifications on an iPhone.  No, He’s available every minute of every day for the entirety of our lives and into eternity.  Such vigilant protection is unlike any other god.

“Our Father, who art in heaven,” thank You for delighting in Your children.  Help us consider all that You are and all that You have done for us.  Pour out Your love, grace, and goodness upon all Dads today and every day.  Amen

Tears in Heaven?

 “God will wipe every tear; there shall be no more death, sorrow, crying or pain." ~ Revelation 21:3-4

Darius was headed for work when flashing red lights at the railroad crossing stopped him.  He’d left plenty early, so the delay didn’t bother him.  As he waited in the silence of his Audi, his thoughts began drifting as if on feathered wings.

The crossing brought back memories of his friend Jamal who’d been killed here years before.  Surprised at realizing how many birthdays had passed since that tragic accident, an emptiness filled his heart again.

Darius closed his eyes, letting the void fill with flashbacks.  He heard Jamal’s good-natured teasing as if just feet away.  He recalled his laugh, his wit, his charisma.  He’d not had another friend like Jamal since; their friendship was as unique as the two of them.

He shifted in his seat, strangely ashamed at having dismissed or forgotten Jamal’s presence in his consciousness over the years.  He’d grieved through enough pain; shed more than enough tears. 

He’d become adept at hiding his broken insides.  But today for some reason, emotional storms were threatening; remorse triggered by lost opportunities.  As close as they’d been, Darius didn't know for certain if Jamal had ever accepted the salvation offered by Jesus.  Was he a true believer?  Had he accepted Christ as his personal savior?

Not knowing the answer plagued Darius to this day.  He flipped on the radio to calm himself.  His answer came immediately as the opening words to one of Eric Clapton’s most memorable songs greeted him.

“Tears in Heaven” is based on the tragic death of his 4-year-old son Conor, who died after accidentally falling from a 54-story apartment window.   The track was written during the blues guitarist, songwriter and singer’s hiatus from music after that devastating event. 

There’s a powerful verse in Clapton’s grief: “Beyond the door, there's peace, I'm sure.  And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven.”  It was a song of belief; a song of optimism - of reunion.

“God speaks to us in many ways,” Darius thought.  “That’s why periods of solitude are so vital, otherwise we might miss it!” 

Through Divine intervention, Darius knew his friend’s fate.

Life’s pain, grief, and heartache can seem overwhelming at times.  But they’re temporary, and one day they will be no more for the Redeemed ones (Revelation 21:3-4).

No one can possibly calculate the buckets of tears shed every moment in this hurting world.  He allows sorrow to be woven into our mortal experience.  But in Heaven, He who forgives our sins also wipes away all tears. 

Ours is a God of tears.  And the reason why he wipes away our tears is partly because He knows firsthand all about suffering.   

God of Tears, I come to You when I’m sad.  Wipe the tears from my face.  Bandage my broken spirit.  Cleanse me with hope.  No matter how deep, I know that all wounds will be healed when You redeem us in heaven.  Amen

Praying for Others

 “Never stop praying." ~ Thessalonians 5:17

The plasma screen sat directly across from her like an unwelcome visitor.  A television should mean fantasy – like a hot air balloon, her chance to see so far and wide, to dream the world anew, the gateway to creativity.

Of recent, however, it was flooded 24/7 with the atrocities unfolding thousands of miles away.  She’d lived through WW2, Korea and Vietnam, but nothing like this.  Grace sat heartbroken; dumbstruck trying to process the events of last week – a free country being destroyed, families being displaced, whole lives reduced to charred fragments.  She felt helpless. 

Her foot tapped rhythmically, her cheeks felt tight, then almost without a conscious thought she picked up the remote to select the music channel and sat back, mind comfortably blank once more.  It didn’t alleviate her anguish.  Grace flipped back to news and wept at the images of hungry, frightened kids pleading for help.

Nathaly, her home health aide noticed her despair, stopped what she was doing, and sat on the coffee table facing Grace; blocking the TV.  Kindness broadened her smile.  Her eyes cast genuine warmth and empathy; an innate need to nurture.

Concern for fellow Ukrainians flooded her heart as well.  She still had family and friends in the region.

“You must think I’m silly,” Grace blushed.  “There’s nothing an old, penniless woman like me can do except pray.  At least I can do that,” she uttered half-heartedly. 

Nathaly continued to listen to her elderly friend with compassion.

“My frustration reveals something I don’t like to admit,” Grace continued.  “I don’t always feel like praying accomplishes anything.”

Nathaly now spoke in a soft, tender voice.  “Sometimes all we can do is pray because there is simply nothing else we can do.  Then we fervently put our knees on the floor, clasp our hands together and cling to God's promises through prayer.  We pray for whatever hurt is happening, whatever destruction.  We ask for peaceful resolution.” 

“But Grace,” Nathaly continued, “Saying “All I can do is pray” is doing so from a defeated posture.  Remember Who we’re praying to; Who’s hearing our petition.  This is no small thing.  We have the privilege of praying to the God who controls all things.  And when we pray to our Messiah, we must approach Him with confidence, knowing that He has the power and the desire to do what we ask.  Trust He’ll help!”

Truer words have seldom been spoken.

I know it sounds cliché, even trivial to think that the words we pray during these desperate times and situations will do anything to help.   But they do.  I believe in the power of prayer with every fiber in me.  I’ve seen its effects firsthand.

Almighty Father, remind us that we’re never meant to carry a heavy emotional load, but to take it to You instead.  Sometimes we forget the depth of Your compassion when we feel overwhelmed with pain and sorrow.  In those moments, there is nothing so welcome as a friend’s prayer directing us back to You.  Amen

Servant Leadership

 Leave your worries with God because He cares for you." ~ 1 Peter 5:7

Bald, thickly built and one who never forgot his humble beginnings, Sam Rayburn learned responsibility early.  Growing up on a small cotton farm, he and each of his 10 siblings had to contribute to make their farm a success.  Spending long days beneath the blistering Texas sun, he dreamed of eventually holding public office. 

While other boys pondered sports and girls, Sam Rayburn’s imagination flirted with speech making and helping others.  The confident teenager audaciously once declared that he’d study law, enter politics, and one day serve in the United States Congress.

He went on to spend 49 years in the House of Representatives, including a record 17 years as House Speaker.  Yet to Sam, “It’s not the length of service that matters, unless that duty has been of high integrity and rendered fully on behalf of one’s nation.” 

Known affectionately as "Mr. Sam," Rayburn helped deliver some of the 20^th Century's most vital legislation, working, as he put it, "with, not under," eight Presidents.  Third in line for succession to the presidency, he wielded incredible power and prestige.  

Like most national politicians, he occasionally considered running for President, but never made a serious bid for the White House.  A humble man who enjoyed many of life’s simpler pleasures, Rayburn was content to remain Speaker.

Throughout his long Congressional career, Rayburn paid close attention to his constituents, believing letters scribbled on blank paper were more valuable to him than those typed on elegantly engraved stationery.

One day, he learned that a close friend’s teenage daughter had died tragically.  Early the next morning, Rayburn knocked on his friend’s door, asking if he could help in any way. 

His grieving friend sighed, “Thank you Sam, but I don’t think so.  We’re making all the arrangements now.”  To which Rayburn asked, “Have you had coffee this morning?”

“No.  We haven’t had time,” the heartbroken man replied.

“Well,” Rayburn responded, “I can at least do that.”

As he watched his powerful friend make coffee, the father suddenly recalled: “Mr. Speaker, weren’t you were supposed have breakfast at the White House this morning.”

“Well, yeah, but I called the President and explained the situation; that I couldn’t come today.”  He’d just turned down breakfast with the President to make coffee for a distraught friend.  

It’s been said that “Powerful people rarely lack confidence but, they often lack humility.”  Sam Rayburn may have been an exception because he trusted God’s more powerful hand.

Free from the arrogance of thinking we can do it all by ourselves brings us to a place of peace; grounded and established in Him.  Paradoxically, it has little to do with even thinking about being humble or focusing on ourselves at all.

Almighty Father, in my battle against pride, keep me from failing to recognize Your gracious gifts.  Teach me to be more fluent in humility like your Son Jesus who submitted himself to ridicule and dishonor for the purpose of saving us all.  Amen

Photographs and Memories

 “Let someone else praise you, not your own mouth." ~ Proverbs 27:2

Brad fashioned himself a photographer; an amateur not because of his lack of experience or equipment, but because he gave away his photos to anyone who wanted them as long as they didn’t resell them.  Pictures were the conduits to his best memories; ones that weren’t notable enough to leave a permanent mark on their own.

Brad started shooting pictures early – back when a single roll of film could last a month or more.  He had to be so much more careful with his shots as the processing fee could break his meager bank account.  Then he’d wait eagerly for up to three weeks to get the pictures back.

Half of them were either overexposed by the sunlight or subjects had red eyes from the camera’s flash.  When he’d saved up enough money to get a Kodamatic, it became pure joy having a photo appear in only 60 seconds.  Even then, it was only used sparingly.

Recollections are quite the opposite of those celluloid stills.  Unless we visit them often, they’ll fade in time and with them the very best of everyone who’s blessed your life will vanish as if they never existed.  Photography gifts us the power of eternal memory.

Just the other day Brad looked through some dusty, old photo albums from his childhood.  There was a picture of him just a few years old, giggling in the wading pool.  

How he longed to go back in time to that moment – to see his Mom’s smiling face and hear his Dad’s precious wisdom. Still he’s reminded that those moments live on in his heart.

If forced to limit his possessions to only those he could carry with him, Brad would only keep those things that meant the most.  Or, at least, an image of them even if it were just a packet of school pictures.

The truth is as hard as we try, we can’t stop time.  We can’t freeze it.  We can’t film it.  And we can’t post it online.  All the photos in the world can’t keep it in place.  

So, he wondered: Do most people today live their lives or just film them?   People go to concerts and film the entire thing.  They record instead of actually enjoying the concert.  Is saving the memory more important than living the memory?  If we can remember the moments we live, do we need to save them?

I guess it depends.  Parents who record their kids growing up makes sense.  They’re too young to remember, so recording it for playback later makes sense.  Conversely, a culture obsessed with self-expression and an insatiable thirst for attention only grows when indulged.  God would likely object to the incessant habit of taking your own picture and then posting them into the cosmos.

Father God, You bless us with only so many days here on earth.  Help me spend that time loving others, helping others, and living them in Your light not in a spotlight.  Amen

Questions of Faith

"Don’t worry about your life; God will provide for all your needs." ~ Matthew 6:25-34

Some people make lemonade from lemons.  William felt wind and imagined a windmill.

He wasn't naturally an over-achiever.  Denied public schooling at age 14 in 2001 because his family couldn't afford the $80 tuition, his life seemed destined for the farm and back-breaking labor of his father, a poor maize and tobacco grower.

With plenty of idle time, William began visiting a rural library where he studied a textbook called Using Energy that detailed the miracle of electricity.  He planned to build a windmill by attaching blades to the back axle of a bicycle and generate electricity through a bike light generator.

He hunted for the needed items (used PVC pipe, flip flops, discarded bicycle parts including a dynamo, and other salvage parts); all of which were obtainable in their poor African hamlet.  “If successful,” he urged, “we could irrigate… and grow twice as much food.”

The villagers in his native Malawi, a small country in southeastern Africa, ridiculed his designs as “crazy,” even sorcery. They didn’t understand what he was doing even when he tried to explain.

But the curious, energetic, (some said) “nutty” boy persisted in his attempt at building an electric wind turbine.  Malawi is among the world's least-developed countries; famine and drought persistently crippled its agricultural economy.

The protype's wingspan measured more than 8’ and sat atop a rickety 15’ tower.  It powered only a small bedroom lightbulb he used for reading after sunset. 

One windmill soon grew to three.  To the amazement of his family and naysayers it generated enough electricity to light several bulbs in the family's home, power radios and a TV, charge his neighbors' cellphones and pump water for their farm and household use.  It couldn’t have come too soon.

The drought and famine of 2006 killed dozens of Malawians; none from William’s family of 9.

Soon local farmers and journalists investigated the “weird, spinning device” and William’s fame among international news outlets skyrocketed.  Venture capitalists stepped forward pledging funds to expand his project. 

William was able to put his cousin and several friends back into school, pay for some family medical bills, and dig a deep public well from which local farmers could irrigate their crops.

This all begs the question: “Why God didn’t provide for these people in Malawi.  Why did God allow so many of these people to starve in a famine?”  It’s one of the areas of my faith where I struggle the most in trusting that God will take care of us.

But of course, He did!

He provided the salvage tools in Malawi to create electricity, the books needed for the required knowledge, and a creative problem-solving idealist with vision and energy.  God’s provision was readily and abundantly available, as always.

Heavenly Father, give us today our daily bread.  And forgive us our failings, as we forgive others’.  Help me resist life’s temptations and to acknowledge my total dependence on You, especially in times of trials and testings.  Amen

Benita

"God doesn’t punish us for our sins or hold a grudge for our wrong-doings.” ~ Psalm 103:10

Benita leaped through the trees with a stick in her mouth.  With those big brown eyes and her creamy-white tail swishing like she’d just gotten all her birthday wishes at once, Mateo knew that she wanted that slimy stick thrown again, not once, but over and over.

She’s pure happiness in fur with all the energy and joy of a puppy, despite being a year-old.  An eternal springtime of sweet emotions, Mateo can’t refuse Benita, she's just too darn cute.  So, he threw the stick again and again until she gleefully buried her face in Mateo’s lap.

He recalled their first encounter at the shelter, her jowls almost grinning.  Benita had turned away as if to leave but returned with a tennis ball, dropped it at his feet and stared straight into Mateo’s eyes.  “I won’t choose a dog today,” he told the adoption counselor.  “I think she just chose me.”

He tenderly stroked her head.  He loved Benita.  And so far, she seemed delighted with her new living situation and owner.  She understood that Mateo cared for her… unlike the previous owner who’d treated her cruelly.

One day, Mateo returned home from work and couldn’t find his faithful pup.  It was so unlike her not to greet him the moment he walked in the door.

He finally found her cowering under a bed.  When she saw him, Benita buried her head in her paws, trying to hide her eyes and become invisible.

It took considerable pleading before she finally came out from under the bed.  Her entire body trembled; her head hung in shame.  She led Mateo into the dining room where he found broken glass covering the floor.  Suddenly he understood.

Benita had broken the hurricane lamp and then hid herself under the bed, afraid her master would no longer love her.

Mateo gently rubbed behind her ears.  “It’s okay girl, don’t be afraid,” he said in a voice as pure as mountain honey.  Soon the dog relaxed, nuzzled in close sniffed, and gave his face an adoring lick. "Kisses... why... thank you!"

In Psalm 103, David reminds us that God is incredibly patient with us.  He doesn’t respond in ways that we deserve, but demonstrates His love for us by His graciousness.  And God doesn’t just withhold His anger when He forgives us.  He separates us from our transgressions by placing an infinite gulf between our wrongdoing and us.

He implores us to forgive others too.  It’s not easy to forgive some offenses, especially those that cost us dearly and can even cause us trauma.  But He can bring healing to our broken hearts.  We just need to be willing to continue to ask for His healing touch.

Heavenly Father, oh how our hearts struggle to forgive wholly and fully.  We thank You for demonstrating such forgiveness by graciously extending it to us.  Help us forgive freely and surrender bitterness.  Grant us the strength to trust Your way.  Amen

Looking Back At Me

 “Trust in Him with all your heart and He will guide your path." ~ Proverbs 3:5-6

DAY 1: It was coming … quicker than expected; winds rustled the trees.  By midmorning it blew dust off the road and tossed anything light as "HURRICANE" whispers grew louder.

Amanda took a break from her crude home office and drove to the ocean.  She needed to hear her sweet sound, feel her soft touch, find solace in her happier memories.

She’d been beaten and mistreated for years.  Left without self-esteem, self-confidence, and self-respect, Amanda had been hurt by a man who’d vowed to love, honor, and protect her. 

As white froth sailed from the wave tops and assailed the shoreline, Amanda kept praying, “Lord, help me find ‘me.’  Let me realize my worth again.”  The more she prayed, the more she wailed.

Amanda had forgiven him; but never herself.

She’d gone through this same ritual every day for months, watching the ocean’s beauty, heeding sounds that brought repose, praying for God to bring her some inner peace.  

The waves began crashing more violently; a reminder of her abusive past: anger, hatred, fear.  Every day she told herself that this will be the day that she’ll go home and see a different face in the mirror.  But it never happens.

Home facing the mirror, Amanda once again saw only the shell of a woman.  Absent was the woman who once loved life, wanted career success, and strived to be the best. 

Day 2: So much destruction.  Sand covered the ocean’s walkways; raging winds had savaged some of the houses and the end of the pier.  The beach was damaged but not broken; determined to be the place where people would return to relax and enjoy good times.

Two Months Later:  The seashore was returning to its pre-hurricane splendor.  Sidewalks and walkways were clear again.  The pier and homes were under reconstruction. 

Amanda saw the ocean in a new light - from the eyes of Someone bigger than she was; something that’d caused so much damaged yet hadn’t skipped a beat.  “Why couldn’t she bounce back like the ocean did after a storm?   Why was she continuing to let that man destroy her,” she wondered.

She rose from the sand and drove back home.  Amanda went straight upstairs and stared into her mirror image.  She saw her old self again – the strong woman who didn’t take anyone’s crap; the woman who knew she deserved to be loved.  

One whose prayers had been answered.

By God’s grace, the woman looking back at her was confident and independent.  She would take back her life and live it to the fullest, never taking herself for granted again.  She’d live like the ocean; bouncing back better than before.

Lord God, when the storms in my life are unrelenting, I lift my eyes to You, my keeper, my protector, my salvation.  Watch over me, guide my steps, and show me the path forward.  My hope and my help are in You, Lord.  Amen

The 'Can' in Cancer

 “A cheerful heart is good medicine." ~ Proverbs 7:22

“What was it like learning you had cancer?” a friend asked her unexpectedly.

The question stole Caryn’s breath.  Suddenly she was drawn back to that exact moment.  The surgeon’s voice echoed in her mind with such sadness, “I’m so sorry; you have breast cancer.“  The  paralyzing fear of an uncertain future swallowed her, wondering if she’d become a cancer statistic.

Telling her children was the hardest part.  Kids 8, 11 and 16 heard 'cancer' and instantly thought, “Mom's gonna die."  They’d already noticed an increase in doctor visits and some irritability.

A lumpectomy removed the tumor and some surrounding tissue.  Then came chemotherapy and radiation followed by hair loss, nausea, fatigue and concentration deficits.

An army of friends supported her sending prayers, cards, and meals.  They drove her kids to school and sport practices.  Coworkers sent pictures and reassurance, making Caryn laugh and helping lift her spirits.

She leaned heavily on her family.  It was roughest for them.  Her youngest frequently questioned if she was going to die.  Husband Karl became her ‘rock.’

Yet, even with support from her army, there were times when Caryn still felt alone coming to grips with her own mortality; questioning things she’d never thought about at 43, like, “Am I going to die?  Will I see my kids grow up?  Will my husband remarry?  Why me?"

Since her diagnosis 6 months ago, she’d cried, but had held it together pretty well.  The momentum of fighting the disease had driven her onward.

After a marathon of cancer treatments, she could hardly wait to get back to a normal life.  But the day her last radiation treatment ended didn’t mark the end of her cancer journey.  (They failed to mention that).

Instead, she embarked on yet another leg of the trip; one that began each day with a preemptive Tamoxifen pill.  It reminded Caryn that cancer could still be lurking in the background - waiting to attack her body again - this time much more aggressively. 

She stared down at the daily pill organizer and combusted; cancer anger finally broke through.  It wasn’t pretty or dignified.  It was irrational and ugly.  But it felt necessary, honest and long overdue.

She opened today’s compartment, nearly tearing off the lid in frustration and reached for the pill.  Instead, found a little something additional left by her beautiful children – a pink M&M and a piece of dark chocolate. 

The teary smile reclaimed Caryn’s will to fight on. 

She’d gained a much deeper faith and a more hopeful view of life.  She’d bonded with amazing people and made positive changes in her lifestyle that she might not have made without a cancer diagnosis.  Some people even call this the ‘Can’ of having cancer.

“I survived to share my story, and am thankful for what I’ve learned.  We’re all here for a reason, and what we choose to contribute to this crazy world has the power to make a difference.  I choose to love, to empathize, to continuously praise God.” ~ Caryn

A New Twist

 “Love is patient, love is kind.  It doesn’t envy or boast and isn’t proud." ~ 1 Corinthians 13:4

Coffee shops often swirl with aromatic dreams.  Here may be a slightly new twist.

José entered an inner-city beanery and strolled towards the counter; soaking in the scenery.  Brick walls, rustic wooden tables, and slightly deformed chairs.  It smelled of cinnamon and dark roast, steamed milk and flakey pastries; all arranged in crowded glass display cases.  Folk music crooned faintly in the background.

Ivan, the barista, welcomed him with an engaging smile.  José ordered a cup of Americano and paid for it at the counter.  The aged hardwood floor creaked as he sauntered towards a nearby table.

As José sipped his perfectly-crafted, delectable elixir, an older man entered and placed an order saying, “Two cups of coffee, one on the wall.”  Ivan prepared one cup but the man paid for two.  After he left, the counter clerk placed a slicky note on the wall which read simply, “A Cup of Coffee.”

While still seated, two men came in and ordered three cups.  They retrieved just two but paid for three and left.  Again, the clerk placed a note on the wall saying, “A Cup of Coffee.”  The practice seemed unique and peculiar.   José finished his java, paid the bill and left a bit confused.

A few days later, he visited the shop again.  While enjoying a cappuccino this time, a poorly dressed man entered clearly unconcerned about his appearance.  He appeared to be in his sixties; his face was time chiseled and weather beaten.  Life and old age were getting the better of him.   

He walked up to the counter and politely ordered, “One cup from the wall.”  Ivan placed the coffee in front of him with all the customary respect and dignity.  

He swelled with pride while savoring his brew and soon left without paying.

The clerk walked over to the wall, removed one sticky note and tossed it in the trash.  Now the matter was very clear.  A new twist on paying it forward … but with no expectation of reciprocity.

José’s eyes welled with tears.  This man entered the place with dignity; not having to ask for a free cup.  He placed an order for himself.  It was served without asking or knowing about who paid for it.  Then he enjoyed his steaming cup of joe in a warm, friendly atmosphere.

Such a beautiful example of love and humanity. 

Showing kindness without any strings attached is kindness in its purest form.  It can come in many ways – giving in secret, giving of time, giving acceptance.  What if we made it a point at least once daily to make someone smile?  What if we stopped thinking about them as random acts and began thinking of them as intentional acts of kindness?

Lord, even as the world around us swirls and breaks, thank You for being compassionate, authentic, and a foundation to lean on.  Your love is like no other.  So today, we boldly and humbly ask for Your grace to tutor us.  Amen