I don’t have a date for this one, but it was sometime in the spring of 2018.
I took a picture of a portion of text from a book I was reading. I don’t even remember now what book it was or exactly why I sent it.
“It is all right for me to pray for the small silly things. Do not let me fall. Do not let me get laryngitis – as long as I hand the prayer, no matter how minor, no matter how foolish, to God. Your way, Lord, not mine.”
Fast forward to this year. We prayed for a lot of things, large and small. For wisdom in decisions. For strength to eat. Praise for a bowel movement. The week before Chuck died our pastor visited. Chuck told how he was too tired to pray. I could see he was nearly too tired to think. And I was too undone to pray, but I know it was the prayers of others that sustained me and got us through those days.