Moth-eaten Letters

There are men who taught their children how to fish. The best ones humbly taught them how to pray too.

One lesson helped put food on the table. The other gave them something to hold onto when the table wasn't as full.

Fishing taught them how to provide. Watching their father pray taught them where to go when life gave them something they couldn't fix.

Prayer kept finding its place at the table, even after their father was gone.

Maybe that's why farmers pray. They've spent enough seasons knowing that some outcomes can only be entrusted to God.

You can prepare the soil, plant at the right time, and work from sunrise until dark. Even then, the rain, the harvest, and tomorrow have never been entirely yours to control.

Faith grows naturally in people who know the difference between doing their part and leaving the rest to God.

There's wisdom in knowing where your labor ends and where faith begins.

The goal of prayer isn't to change what God intends, it's to align our hearts to match His will.

Prayer gives space to speak honestly before Him. Your worries and your hopes both find their place there.

In that quiet time the heart begins to soften. The mind grows calmer.

Little by little our desires begin to follow where God has been leading all along.