Sunday

During a personal prayer this week, I happened upon a realization that surprised me greatly: I edit my prayers. Seriously, I was praying about a particular situation and I mentally used the word things and I backed-up and carried on a brief mental conversation about my weak word choice and what noun would be more concrete. I couldn’t believe the writer in me coming out, because truly I do know that I have a perfect intercessor that brings my prayers before God. If I don’t use the perfect word or pray the most elegant prayer, God understands. Honestly, I should be more concerned with a consistent prayer life instead of the perfect words in my prayers.

My cleaning earlier in the week resulted in a crate of dolls—porcelain and plastic—I wanted to pass on because I just had too many left from childhood. However, the dolls were mostly given to me by family and they held some sentimental value so I decided I’d rather give them away to little girls I know and not just pass them off to Goodwill. To that end I lugged a yellow crate to church this morning with the following message taped to the side: FREE to good home as long as parents are asked first. Have fun. I was so pleased to see the many little girls at church delightedly choose a doll and take her home. I only had one doll left, and frankly her wig comes off which I believe wasn’t terribly appealing to anyone. I’d say it was a success. I didn’t even feel a twinge of sadness giving away pieces of childhood with the way it brought pleasure to the girls. Hopefully all the parents were happy enough with the addition of a new toy to the house.