Sister Rosa

God bless you for simply refusing to move until the WRONG buckled and moved to give way to the RIGHT you stood so honorably for. By holding fast to the conviction of equality, you taught us all. You did not only stand for black people, but for ALL people. You are among my heroes, dear sister, and I will teach my children by your example.

May God welcome you home this blessed day.

Rosa Parks
February 4, 1913 to October 24, 1005

thus endeth LaLa's bedtime prayer...

..."and thank you God for the shephermen and their sheep who saw the star in the sky and followed it to baby Jesus. And thank you for Joyboy. Amen."

"The Shephermen were amazing guys, weren't they, Mom?"

They were, sweetie. They had the meek faith to obediently follow God's shining star in the sky and be privy to the historical birth of the Christ child while the rest of the world slept soundly that winter's night. They saw the light and let it lead them to a place where their hearts and lives would be forever altered.

Yes, the 'shephermen were amazing guys'. And in their meek obedience lies my inspiration to follow God's light, even when it unexpectedly shines in the pitch darkness over a random stable in the middle of nowhere. Because there is no other journey so worth the trek, on destination so worth the leap of faith, and no other God whose light is the beacon that sings to my soul.

Monday finds us

...still hampered by sickness. Now my 19-month old Joyboy has also developed the dreaded croup, the horribly hollow raspy cough that keeps him up nights and leads to bleary days of sleep-deprived emotion. For the last 6 nights in a row, Copper and I have sat, wrapped in blankets, in the rocking chairs of our house all night long, holding our sleeping children upright so that they are able to breathe.

I have decided that our house may in fact need to be encased in a hygienic plastic bubble.

And, that human beings do generally require more than 3 hours of sleep per night to function on any reliable level of proficiency.

I have been a pathetically unworthy mother today. A shrill, exhausted, weary, impatient shell of myself. Thank God that He keeps His promise to be strong when I am weak. Because I would definitely have been Voted Off The Island today if LaLa and JoyBoy were at Tribal Council.

I woke up feeling sick, which worsened as the hours progressed. Both kids are still acutely ill and seek to be held or to cling to their Mama at all times. My impatient behavior even caused me to apologize to LaLa, seeking tearful forgiveness for a short-tempered response to her. Rain and our combined lack of health prevented outdoor excursions and added to the sense of palpable stir craziness permeating Casa Lachen. The TV was on way too often, grouchiness and naughtiness abounded, and far too few opportunities were capitalized on to engage with my children, teach them and meet their needs. Clients and work refused to relent from sunup to sundown, till I finally turned off the phone altogether, ignored the emails, and committed myself to denial of any more invasions of my day. Dinner was an interesting combination of random foods not commonly associated. But it was warm and edible and we were content to happily munch away at whatever was on our plates.

But bedtime! Ah, bedtime. This blessed time in our home tonight made up for the utterly abysmal day. It meant coveted snuggly time with my babies and husband in a warm and comfy house while rain pounded outside. Everyone freshly bathed and nestled cozily into their toasty beds. Copper rocking JoyBoy to sleep while I snuggled in under the covers and fell asleep next to LaLa - waking up an hour later to the sound of her deep sleep and a newfound contentment with the world.

I lie awake (barely) now, penning this entry, aware that one wall away lies my soundly slumbering son, and on the other side, my cozily snuggled daughter. All is content. All is peaceful. All is right with the world.

May morning not be the end of this trend, but the continuation....

Random Ramblings

As my sweet children idle reluctantly at home with me this week, languishing with a rather miserable case of the croup and double ear infections to boot, I have found my sleep~deprived mind wandering on occasion.

As the chance of my producing something astonishingly compelling on the limited hours of sleep afforded to me since Tuesday, I will rely on the kindness of you strangers (and some not-so-strange friendlies...) to cope with this meandering entry of disconnected, random ponderings:

Tom Cruise.

His love life, flights of romantic fancy, impending fatherhood, pseudo~religious banter, anti~prescription drug mantra, and whatever else he is up to these days it giving me pause in a bit of an unusual way. That whole "Eyes Wide Shut" period notwithstanding, I've enjoyed his contributions as an actor which have, in some cases, been brilliantly moving. As a person, the man appears fairly well off his rocker lately. But the fact that he is openly himself, unapologetically, with all obvious flaws and ~shall we say~ idiosyncrasies bared, both interests and impresses me. We should all be so open about ourselves. There are too many men living lives of quiet desperation. At the very least, Mr. Cruise is living his life of unabashed kookiness out loud. I find myself lately more impressed with the noble uniqueness of uncompromised ethics, however outlandish I personally find them to be.

If we were all as dedicated to living our lives out loud, it would be far easier to separate the wheat from the chaffe and the sheep from the wolves, wouldn't it? And it would make for a far more fascinating journey in the meantime. I vote for that.

Customer Service. Or lack thereof.

The state of our American service industries across~the~board is neither humorous or simply merely irritating. It has become quite a little epidemic involving service people who would rather be anywhere else but are forced to serve me in whatever employment capacity they are unfortunate enough to have undertaken as their best option to earn enough to buy that new XBox game.

At the risk of sounding magnanimous or ungrateful, I am awfully fatigued at the consistent prospect of not being understood as I speak to a cashier in English. And of getting the wrong order anyway, even after repeating myself five times. Of being treated with the kindness and professional courtesy one would extend to a burnt out lightbulb. Of not being able to depend on the most basic of functions occurring in the professional realm with any degree of reliability. Of being regularly mistreated, misdirected, misinformed, miscommunicated with, misdialed, and mishandled by those whose jobs are exactly to provide the very services they galatically fail at.

Important packages due Tuesday inexplicably arrive on Thursday ~ down the street at my neighbors' house whose long vacation left behind a bored and grouchy dog who has decided my package makes a rather delightful chew toy.

Two chicken tender meals with fries, ordered via drive~thru windows, somehow morph into three cheseburgers with onion rings. Dry cleaned carpet is neither clean nor dry, but still manages to cost a pretty penny. Telephone operators hang up on you. The very moment you sit down in the restaurant, your waiter slips out the back for a half hour cigarette break, but the counterperson at the cosmetics display seems to have evaporated altogether within moments of packing a dozen wrong items into your bag and sending you off on your merry way.

I think I am in a mood.

So, change of subject. Onto something I have recently developed an excitement level for that resembles my childhood Christmas Eve anticipation thrill: Letterboxing. My girlfriend, Chandra, who shamelessly does not blog (yet. I am a good nag.) introduced me to this neat phenomenon. When the dark, grey cloud of coughing, feverish, croupy illness finally moves on from our house, I have made silent plans in my mind to trounce with my children and long~suffering Copper all over tarnation, searching for these buried, hidden~treasure letterboxes. And insodoing, create few treasured family memories all our own.

Recall that I did offer a warning about the random nature of this post. I promise to have my thoughts more neatly aligned by tomorrow morning. Or at the very latest, mid afternoon.

Borrowed Copper Sonnet

This sonnet, written by one of the few female poets of the 17th century, Anne Bradstreet, is a poem in praise of her husband. It suits my own dear relationship with Copper right now. I am steeped in roaring love and adoration of the incredible man I share my life, my heart, my faith, my children, and my future with.


If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
I prize thy love more that whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor ought but love from thee give recompense.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.
Then while we live, in love let’s so persever,
That when we live no more, we may live ever.

Selfish piles of goat manure

It is fair to say that I have a love~hate relationship with television. Not my individual set, specifically (which I have no beef with), but television in general.

It is not based on any of the standard "evils of television" arguments, but rather on the grouchy frustration I inevitably become embroiled in when I choose to tune in. Watching Wife Swap coupled with a liberal (no pun intended, but definitely applicable) dose of the evening news tonight did me in.

Wife Swap could be classified as a guilty pleasure of mine, except that I don't feel guilty and the emotions jockeying for position within me as I take in this show typically do not include "enjoyment". Bemused amazement is accurate. Stupefied astonishment generally sums up my reaction to voyeuristicly discovering the minor catastrophes that pass for "normal" family life, marriage, parenting, and relationships among those who are briefly chronicled in Wife Swap. Often, I find myself shaking my head in where~the~heck~do~they~find~these~people fashion. Except that I know exactly where they find these people. Because I think I know some of them. And on sad, rare occasions, I actually believe I recognize glimpses of myself in one or two of them.

I did say "rare", OK? By the grace of God, the strength of my convictions, and the relentless pursuit of God's best instead of my "good enough", I've blessedly managed to dodge the bullets choking these families. I take no joy in noting that some of the adult participants on Wife Swap are straight out of a publication entitled, "How to be the least effective participant in a marriage, marinate in selfish superiority and fully screw up your kids in the process." Talk about killing multiple birds with one stone. And maybe some cats too.

All kidding aside, what gives me pause at this moment is a reflection caused by one of the wives on tonight's episode. At the end of the show, this woman openly wept, lamenting her relationship with her husband and envying that of the other couple, with whom she had swapped places for two weeks. She dedicated her life to being an "individual", requiring her husband and child's uniform conformity to the whims and standards of her free spirit and artistic bent. She contributed nothing to the family unit beyond her "vision of art as a healing element" and her unquestionable philosophies of tantamount superiority. She did not regularly clean her home, shampoo her hair, take a shower, do laundry, wash dishes, teach, relate, or spend any meaningful time investing in her family. Because that was beneath her and outwardly focused. She spent her time looking within, spouting melodically about her superior philosophy of life, which seemed to me to involve indefinite art projects and insistence upon doing her own thing at the cost of anyone else whose "own thing" happened to intersect with hers.

Last week's show was no better. One wife was not into cleaning. As in, REALLY not into cleaning. There were rare fungal spores growing on her kitchen counters which were overflowing with rancid dishes, old pizza boxes, colonies of ants, and rotten food. There may or may not have been an alligator - I can't be sure. There was trash absolutely everywhere, soiled clothes tossed haphazardly around, and she took pride in announcing that she could not remember the last time she had ever done laundry or picked up a broom or vacuum. This was a woman who actually removed all the interior walls of her family home. There were no bedroom walls, no living room walls, and a half wall in the bathroom. The reason for the remodel? So that her family pets could come and go as they pleased, more freely. How sweet.

Not. In this small two bedroom house, her "pets" constituted TEN DOGS AND ONE GOAT.

Ten Dogs.

And

An

Obscenely

Fat

GOAT.

The goat slept in her bed with she and her husband (when said hubby was not seeking solace on the non-goat-populated sofa), and spent its days reclining in her husbands' once-upon-a-time-it-was-nice leather chair and pooping all over the floor.

Um, no.

That kind of stuff does not fly in the house of Lachen. Our pets are PETS, for crying out loud. Our cats are relegated to the garage during the summer shedding season (if you are a member of PETA, please don't freak out - our garage is a pretty posh pet palace, complete with carpet, surround sound, a sofa and all the "creature" comforts. It is way nicer than my college apartment). And our fish live in an aquarium, quite contained. On special occasions, we bring the portable DVD player into the other room and let them watch a movie. They seemed to like Finding Nemo. But I digress...

The husband of this loosey goosey wife hated living in a kennel. So also did their daughter. But Mom/Wife was oblivious and determined to have her own way, so invested was she in doing "her own thing".

Doing ones own thing is fine and dandy. Truly. But refusing to show respect to others by forcing your "thing" to overshadow and trample their lives is inexcusably reprehensible behavior for a wife and mother to display. It is not individuality I am attacking, but disrespect. And the unwillingness to put others before ourselves and fulfill the invaluable role in the lives of our spouses and children. Do we not commit ourselves to the best interests of our family when we become wives and mothers? Marriage is not a draft - we sign up voluntarily, willingly, honorably. Those who refuse to check their selfishness at the door cannot claim to be FLOORED or disappointed when their relationships fail to thrive.

There is no mystery. Marriage is not meant to be a perpetual state of roommate-hood with an occasional kid thrown in here or there for good measure. It is a bond, a commitment, a covenant, a lifelong process, a leap of faith, and the most intimate partnership possible. Marriage is living entity and it can become sick and die without proper nourishment or care. It amazes me that some of us believe the laws of physics do not apply in relationships as they do in other arenas of life. One cannot proceed to "do your own thing" to the utter exclusion of your family and expect to be an effective participant of that family, or to foster healthy interconnected relationships with children or spouses. Just as one cannot merge into another traffic lane successfully while still driving in the initial lane. One must choose where they wish to drive - either alone or in the carpool lane. Each lane will get you there just fine - it is the driving in the median thing that'll kill ya.

Thus endeth the existential dilemma of Wife Swap for this evening. I should have heeded my instincts and stopped watching after the Goat Wife episode last week.

Onto the news. "NEWS" is an awfully loose term these days, isn't it? Tonight's prime time local news riled me. 20,000 people dead in the earthquakes in Pakistan and India, but instead, the lead story details the hidden Republican evils of Schwartzy's proposed election ballot measures. Good grief, I am ashamed for us. That the planet earth does not revolve around American politics is a wake up call we desperately need to hear. Where is our HEART'S focus ~ with people or with politics? On things passing or things eternal?

Countless miraculous opportunities to make a forever-altering impact in lives of our fellow human beings pass us by while we are engrossed in "our own thing". How tragically regrettable.

Cradled in the Lord's Comfort

Dear Lord Jesus,

Please take under your divine wing the people of Pakistan, India, and Afghanistan. May they find themselves wholly embraced by the magnitude of your loving care.

As demonstrated to them by your people, to the ends of the earth. Love through us. Heal through us. Comfort through us. Help us to love one another in the realization of our shared humility, dependence, and frailty through shared tragedy.

Amen.

This caged bird is not singing

Heterotopic Ossification is a medical condition in which bone in the skeletal system abnormally grows into the soft tissues of the body. This condition, though rare, causes the skeleton to abandon it's created purpose, of supporting the functions of the body unit and protecting vital internal organs, to become a parasite which calcifies and chokes off the health of the very body it is meant to support. Eventually, this condition makes the body vulnerable to lesions, terminal diseases, infections, spinal deformities, and crippling malformations.

Ultimately, the more virulent types of this condition cause a painful and inevitable death.

So, Lachen, this is all very fascinating, you mutter. But a bit unusually morbid and off the wall, isn't it? Is there a point emerging here somewhere?

There is, actually.

You see, our nation is afflicted with ossification disease. The Federal government we crafted in order to support, serve, and ensure the protection of our rights, our freedoms, our traditions, and our lives is invading and altering the vital elements of our nation and souls. It is rendering us powerless by choking the life from us. Though usually with pure intention, it has become a spreading disease, its expanding impact rendering us more and more dependent on it for our survival by spreading outside it's necessary boundaries and robbing us of our vital functions.

And our dignity.

And our purpose.

And our function as human beings, Godly faithful, patriots, compassionate people of character, conscience, ability, intelligence, and honor.

The skeleton which is meant to protect and support the function of the body has become a cage which imprisons the spirit. And whose bars are moving more invasively inward at a crushing exponential rate.

Do you not see this occurring? It is happening now, right before us. If we are content to do nothing, the ossification of our nation and ourselves will continue. Though we inherited this trend from generations before us ~ arguably since the formation of our nation, if we do nothing, our children will inherit the cages we've built, whose stifling bars will be terminal. We are being redefined as a nation as we continue to hand over vital functions we once took for granted as individual freedoms, obligations, and rights as individuals to accommodate an ever-expanding Federal government who proposes to relieve us of such burdens.

The following excerpts are taken from a CATO article, astounding in it's wealth of data, facts, and figures which support and amplify my assertion.

"The Bill of Rights was to ensure that government would never grow so large that it could trample on the individual and economic liberties of American citizens. These liberties are eroding. The United States has been gradually transformed from a nation with almost no government presence in the marketplace to one in which the government is now the predominant actor in the domestic economy. Consider the following:

• There are now more Americans employed by government than by the entire manufacturing sector in America.
• In the past 25 years the federal government has spent $2.5 trillion on welfare and aid to cities. This is enough money to purchase all of the assets of the Fortune 500 companies plus all of the farmland in the United States.
• In 1987 U.S. farmers received more money in government subsidies than they did in selling their crops in the marketplace. In short, farmers now produce for the government, not U.S. consumers.
• In three states today —California, Maine, and New York— almost half of all middle-income family wages are captured by government through income, payroll, property, and sales taxes, and other levies.

• In 1900 the federal government consumed less than 5 percent of total output.
• In 1950 the federal government consumed roughly 15 percent of total output.
• In 1992 the federal government consumed almost 25 percent of total output.

• In 1930 workers paid one of every eight dollars of them income in taxes.
• In 1950 workers paid one of every four dollars of their income in taxes.
• In 1992 workers paid one of every three dollars of their income in taxes.

• In 1900 the average family paid nearly $1,400 in taxes.
• In 1950 the average family paid nearly $7,000 in taxes.
• In 1992 the average family paid over $16,000 in taxes.

• In 1900 the government spent $10 billion on social welfare.
• In 1950 the government spent $130 billion on social welfare.
• In 1988 the government spent $980 billion on social welfare.

• In 1990 government anti-poverty spending equaled $184 billion.
• In 1990 it would have cost only $75 billion to bring every family with an income below the poverty level up above that benchmark. Hence, government was spending two-and-a-half times what would be needed to end poverty in America
• However, after that $184 billion was spent, some 30 million Americans remained below the poverty level.
• More than half of all welfare recipients had pre-welfare incomes above the poverty level.

• In 1940 government spent $5 billion on monthly payroll.
• In 1960 government spent $14 billion on monthly payroll.
• In 1990 government spent $36 billion on monthly payroll."

We must not be taxed so that government can redistribute our wealth to projects and priorities defined without our participation. We must not depend on our government for our survival, but rather, our government should be dependent upon US for its survival. We are not entitled, we are empowered. We should not need to beg to worship or acknowledge the Lord, but rather celebrate our freedom to do so without governmental interference. We must protect innocent life at all costs, not protect those who seek to exterminate it with tangled laws and massive regulation.

I love my country. I love our diverse and vibrant people, our history, and our potential. Government is a good thing. Government is a neccessary entitity with a legitimate role to play in our lives and nation. But our American Federal government has outpaced itself in size, costs, importance, reach, utility, waste, and regulation. It is ossifying us to the point of personal disability. This is not a Democratic problem. It is not a problem limited to, defined by, or caused by the current Republican adminiprecedinghe immediately preceeding Democratic administration, or any specific political scapegoat. We have all participated in this ossification process.

And it requires our rapt attention. I again borrow my wisdom from CATO, who concludes:

"American government has far outgrown the limits set by our founders in the Constitution. If the twenty-first century is to be the American century, government must be redirected to its proper and legitimate role. The growth of government is the greatest tragedy of the twentieth century."

Please stand with me and take back our responsibilities from a government who has expanded to poach them from us. Vote against new taxes. Vote against new social welfare programs. Vote against irresponsible spending. Vote against the tide - refuse to believe in the mantra that government is the answer to our ills. Become part of the solution, and give the glory to God and the hearts of His people. Stand against the invasion of our lives in areas which belong to us alone. Be aware. Be heard. Be willing. Be bold. Be ready.

It is time to reign in the worsening calcifying ossification of our national body before our hearts stop beating.

Ding Dong, The Critter is Gone!

That's right, our attic is no longer a thriving Bed and Breakfast for meandering varmints.

Whatever type of critter that had temporarily taking up residence with us has since vacated the building. Like Elvis. And like crazed Elvis fans, I am obsessed with the possibility of his potential return. Unlike the loony fringe of Elvis fanatics, I am praying AGAINST IT.

So Sayeth the Bible Chapter Quiz

Which book of the Bible are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

With ample kudos to my friend, TamWill, I offer this short 5-question bible Chapter quiz. I was scored as "Ephesians". Of all possible answers, I think I am best categorized as a hybrid of Ephesians and Romans. Ephemans. Or Romians.

Yep, that's me.

The non-vandalism type

Of tagging, that is. This latest blog tag is brought to you by my dear friend, Fear The Leg. And by the number 8, and the letter "B".

The instructions are as follows:

1. Go into your archives.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Post the fifth sentence or close to it.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
5. Tag 5 other people to do the same.

"I have actually seen it." (posted from the "Loch Ness Zonkey" in March, 2005)

I hereby tag:

Coco
Kristina (of 3 Men and Me)
Angel
Tracy
the crew at Fine Dry Wit

Nine

Nine years ago on this sacred day, we stood in a lush park overlooking the ocean.

The sun was particularly friendly, and the seductive breeze drifted in and out of our interlocked embraces.

I remember the distinct juxtaposition of aromas: pungent salty sea, blooming jasmine, and the sugary frosting of the cake and treats laid carefully amidst a frothy bed of white tulle, sprawled over a dozen tables.

On that afternoon, a string quartet played joyfully.

Amazing Grace echoed from the lilting voices of my family over the outdoor arena filled with family and friends gathered specially, sitting together sheltered from the sun under the canopy of trees.

I remember I wanted to be barefoot, but wisely chose to wear the shoes from our first date instead. I remember his nose, flaring in concerted effort to keep the tears from spilling over. I remember his hands. Shaking. Mine were utterly peaceful. Calm, sure, ready. And clutching the first of many tissues I would go through during the day.

The prayer. The familiar tune. The time had come. My brother led me down the steps and to my waiting best friend. Who on that day, under an impossibly blue, cloudless sky, made me a promise like no other. A covenant before our Lord. To honor and obey. To love and to cherish. To have and to hold. To pray with and pray for.

Until death temporarily separates us until we reunite in heaven, amidst the Kingdom of the very God who created us and blessed our union that day. And each day thereafter.

On that October afternoon, he made me his wife. And sealed his promise with a kiss that echoed off the lapping waves in the distance.

On that day, I thee wed.

I love you, Copper. Thank you for blessing my life with your own. Supporting and encouraging me on the journey from woman to wife to mother and back again. Nine years under our belts, countless more to enjoy and romp through. Together. By the grace of Lord, the power of commitment, and the honor of choosing to love one another each day as God first loved us.

Here's To Keeping Our Promises....

The creature in the attic

We have a squatter among us. An uninvited varmint of sorts.

We think it is an opossum. But it might be a raccoon. Or maybe a bear. Or an alligator. It's fully possible.

Because despite Copper braving the attic alone in search of the THING making all the growly, clawing FUSS in the ceilings above us, we have not yet caught a definitive glimpse of the exact nature of the beast we are in contention with. We can hear him, but we cannot find him. Our attic is vast, filled with insulation and storage boxes ~ ample space to hide within. Not to be caught off guard against whatever is inhabiting our attic, Copper was packing. Gloves, mace, AND his service gun.

Where was I? I was standing guard under the ladder, bravely holding a non~operational flashlight at the ready. If that creature managed to elude Copper, and his mace, and his gun, and somehow made it down the ladder to me, I was fully prepared to crack it over the head with my Mag Lite, let me tell you.

It's all about teamwork, right?

Tomorrow we embark upon the rather fascinating world of wild animal traps. Food + a large rigged box with bait (food) + a little bit of patience should apparently equal one rather irritated but captured varmint. I sure like this idea better than shooting it, macing it, or Mag Liting it. But whatever rids my house from the creature in the attic is worthy of consideration. Is there an 'opossum Whisperer' among us? We may soon need to chat.

Another First... another Prayer

To know even one life has breathed easier because you lived, this is to have succeeded." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

For me, this first day of this freshly arrived October, like each first of each month over the past four years, begins with a prayer for the children who are at critical risk to abortion. Right now. Those whose lives hang in the balance at this very moment.

I began this prayer after the birth of my daughter, as a way of honoring the Lord who blessed me with her tiny, miraculous life to shepherd but for a brief time. And through whom, all things are possible, no heart is unreachable, and no miracle is unattainable. I believe there is no limit to what God can achieve, and that prayer is the most powerful mechanism for manifesting His divinity in the lives and world around us. And in our own hearts, always in need of refinement and humility, the desire to view each other through Christ's eyes.

Tonight I kneel and pray for each pregnant mother who today faces this question and is considering the abortion 'option' in her soul. I pray that God will equip her with the courage, moral conviction, raw love, and unyielding support she needs to be able to place the precious sacredness of the innocent life growing within her ahead of the personal obstacles that threaten to convince her to stop her BABY'S beating heart.

I pray for changed hearts and saved lives.

Finally, I pray for those precious babies already lost. The Lord knows each of them by name.

I lift my voice in hope that my life, my words, my heart may intercede on behalf of the meekest among us whose lives hang in the balance. I pray for changed hearts and saved lives. I pray for the mothers. I pray for the babies. I pray for life and against death. I pray for miracles. And I believe in a God who answers our prayers.

So I pray.

Please join me.