Last week, the trees were still bare; but yesterday I noticed the leaves have unfurled and we’re in the midst of blossoms. As simple as that, touched again by the hand of God, who as I write, is letting rain fall on the wicked and righteous alike.
Pray with reverence.
On a fine large day, with every reason for thanks, sharp words are still ready and waiting. The one more time we can’t handle, comes anyway. But tomorrow (and this is a True thing) stands a new day.
Pray with penitence.
And in the second chances, pray with humility.
The big boy tinkers endlessly, and those girls are spending more time with a pencil in hand. They correct each other’s shaky spelling, and their growing is not stair-steps, but leaps and bounds. They hold an invisible promise in their hands.
So pray with hope.