Bedtime Prayer Quotes

Hours of the day were named for the hours of prayer: matins around midnight; lauds around three A.M.; prime, the first hour of daylight, at sunrise or about six A.M.; vespers at six in the evening; and compline at bedtime.

The moment I fell, my wings wilted like roses left too long in the vase. The misery of the bare back is to live after flight, to be the low that will never again rise. “To live on land is to live in a dimming station, but to fly above, everything sparkles, everything is endlessly crystal. Even the dry dirt improves to jewel when you can be the wings over it. “To be removed from flight is to be removed from the comet lines, the star-soaked song. How can I go on from that? How can I be something of value when I’ve lost my most valuable me? Land is my forever now, my thoroughly ended heaven. No sky will have me, no God either. “I am the warning to all little children before bedtime. Say your prayers, be done with sin, lest you become the devil, the one too sunk, no save will have him.” Dad

Vespers Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed, Droops on the little hands little gold head. Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares! Christopher Robin is saying his prayers. God bless Mummy. I know that's right. Wasn't it fun in the bath tonight? The cold's so cold, and the hot's so hot. Oh! God bless Daddy -- I quite forgot. If I open my fingers a little bit more, I can see Nanny's dressing-gown on the door. It's a beautiful blue, but it hasn't a hood. Oh! God bless Nanny and make her good. Mine has a hood, and I lie in bed, And pull the hood right over my head, And I shut my eyes, and I curl up small, And nobody knows that I'm there at all. Oh! Thank you, God, for a lovely day. And what was the other I had to say? I said "Bless Daddy," so what can it be? Oh! Now I remember. God bless Me. Little Boy kneels at the foot of the bed. Droops on the little hands little gold head. Hush! Hush! Whisper who dares! Christopher Robin is saying his prayers.

But they simply didn't know Sammy in the late hours, all his virulent bedtime prayers whispered away into his folded hands, releasing his worry and anxiety over the sinful so he could sleep well and fight the devil again in the daylight. And, easefully and kindly, he'd hold Abby in his arms, becoming just as lost as everyone else, just as blind in the dark.

I came to view the world as a word puzzle and, with no special aptitude I can name, fixed on the whys and wherefores of language from my earliest days. Song lyrics. Signs. The stories read in first and second grades. My parents almost always read to us at bedtime. Poems by Whittier. Scenes from Oliver Twist. Kidnapped. Treasure Island. The names alone intrigued me. Dr. Livesey, Squire Trelawney. The name Balfour sounded the knell of the romantic. Robinson Crusoe. I loved to hear read the exploits of Natty Bumppo. Authors had an aura of the godlike to me. The Latin prayers fascinated me as an altar boy. I can still recall carved names on buildings I saw from the MTA train when I was a youngster. Who can explain why? Words were magic to me. I once inadvisably glued my finger and thumb together at the Magoun Library in fourth grade trying to amuse a pretty little girl on whom I had a crush, and when the librarian came over angrily to inquire what the problem was and I pointed with a shrug and replied, “Mucilage”—a word that always made me laugh—she very coldly stated, “You are more to be pitied than censured.

I wish you the sweetness of sticky kisses, the fragrance of muddy bouquets of weeds, the simplicity of macaroni necklaces, the warmth of bedtime snuggles, the promise of beautiful tomorrows. I wish you the hope to carry your heart through the hard times, the grace to forgive your inevitable mistakes, the strength to start again every morning, the wisdom to enjoy the journey. I wish you enough joy and laughter in the present to fill the silence that comes too soon when life grows quiet and rooms grow still and your heart beats in constant prayer for the once-small feet that now choose their own path guided by the whisper of their childhood.

Atara liked to pray with Mila. She could tell that in Mila’s prayer, the messiah’s coming was not the glory of the Temple rebuilt but a kitchen with Mila’s mother in it, a bedtime with the story Mila’s father had not finished telling her.

An American “epidemic of loneliness,” it’s being called, in research papers, the press, even on an official U.S. government website. Two in five Americans are unhappy with the relationships they do have. One in five Americans feel lonely and socially isolated. Loneliness, these researchers warn, is as lethal as smoking 15 cigarettes a day; can lead to suicide, Alzheimer’s disease, and other dementias; messes with our immune and cardiovascular systems, and more. Loneliness, in other words, is killing us. So every night, like a bedtime prayer, I open my apps and swipe.

The moon had risen higher and the moonlight was bright in the little open place. All around it the shadows were dark among the trees. “After a long while, a doe and her yearling fawn came stepping daintily out of the shadows. They were not afraid at all. They walked over to the place where I had sprinkled the salt, and they both licked up a little of it. “Then they raised their heads and looked at each other. The fawn stepped over and stood beside the doe. They stood there together, looking at the woods and the moonlight. Their large eyes were shining and soft. “I just sat there looking at them, until they walked away among the shadows. Then I climbed down out of the tree and came home.” Laura whispered in his ear, “I’m glad you didn’t shoot them!” Mary said, “We can eat bread and butter.” Pa lifted Mary up out of her chair and hugged them both together. “You’re my good girls,” he said. “And now it’s bedtime. Run along, while I get my fiddle.” When Laura and Mary had said their prayers and were tucked snugly under the trundle bed’s covers, Pa was sitting in the firelight with the fiddle. Ma had blown out the lamp because she did not need its light. On the other side of the hearth she was swaying gently in her rocking chair and her knitting needles flashed in and out above the sock she was knitting. The long winter evenings of fire-light and music had come again.

One time, when I was little more than a baby, I was taken to visit my grandmother, who was living in a cottage on a nearly uninhabited stretch of beach in northern Florida. All I remember of this visit is being picked up from my crib in what seemed the middle of the night and carried from my bedroom and out of doors, where I had my first look at the stars. “It must have been an unusually clear and beautiful night for someone to have said, “Let’s wake the baby and show her the stars.” The night sky, the constant rolling of the breakers against the shore, the stupendous light of the stars, all made an indelible impression on me. I was intuitively aware not only of a beauty I had never seen before but also that the world was far greater than the protected limits of the small child’s world which was all I had known thus far. I had a total, if not very conscious, moment of revelation: I saw creation bursting the bounds of daily restriction, and stretching out from dimension to dimension, beyond any human comprehension. I had been taught to say my prayers at night: Our Father, and a long string of God-blesses, and it was that first showing of the galaxies which gave me an awareness that the God I spoke to at bedtime was extraordinary and not just a bigger and better combination of the grownup powers of my father and mother. This early experience was freeing, rather than daunting, and since it was the first, it has been the foundation for all other such glimpses of glory. (The Irrational Season)

Our sizable group was scattered among three different tables, and because the restaurant was a bit noisy, the kids’ table didn’t hear Alan lead us in the blessing. So Miss Kay went over to their table and led Mia and her cousins in their own prayer, thanking God for the food and asking Him to watch over Mia the next morning. After she finished, she asked the girls if they wanted to add anything. Mia said that she did. They all bowed their heads while Mia prayed for Mrs. Cathy, a dear friend of ours who was recovering from a recent mastectomy and undergoing chemotherapy for stage two breast cancer. Miss Kay came over to me and Jase with tears in her eyes, recounting what Mia had prayed. “I just assumed she was going to pray for herself, but she prayed for Cathy instead.” When I told Miss Kay that we pray for Cathy each night at bedtime, Kay said, “Well, I guess Mia thought there was no reason that this night should be any different.” She also mentioned that she asked Mia if she was nervous about the next day. “Not really” was Mia’s response. “But what do you feel?” Miss Kay asked her. “Nothing. I just don’t feel anything, really.” I guess I would interpret her response simply as Mia being at peace.

Introduction This book is devoted to the blessed Father, Son, Holy Spirit. Daily working together as unified Godhead for our best interest. Would be incomplete without Jesus direct love bestowed upon me, through a perpetual act of faith in God. Fully trusting Jesus to lead me into a carefully laid-out plan. Dedicating this book to my children: Faith is 6, Christian 11, Christina 12 years old. Izzabella, my niece, is also featured in the story, Sally Saved Three Times. These Children are the inspiration for the characters in the stories. Added some personal experiences acquired during my childhood. Appreciate the support of my Mom, Dad, brother, Jacob, for being here for me the last five years. They helped me through hard circumstances when I needed them the most. Thank You! My second family is at the Erie Wesleyan Methodist Church on the corner of 29th and Liberty. They covered my life with prayer; great friends from the Lord; Supporting me on my journey towards my heavenly home. I am also thankful for Mike Lawrence who encouraged me to keep writing. Thanks, brother! This spectacular close friend of mine wrote the Forward of this book. He is God-given for moral support and prayer. Friends forever from Erie, Pennsylvania! There are scripture references, along with Bible lessons featured in each story. These short stories are ideal for devotions or bedtime stories. Suitable for parents and grandparents to read to children, grandchildren. Forward It is rare today to find Christians who are in love with doing the Lord's service. Many would sit to the side and let others bush-wack the path, but Bryan has always been the one who delights in making the way clear for others. His determination, commitment to producing these writings was encouraging to watch come to fruition. Take time now see for yourself how God is directing these works to provide something sincere, pure, innocent for families to enjoy. A pleasant respite from a sin-sick world. So, please, feel free to find a quiet place today and enjoy them alone or with your family. This body of work calls upon us to take time to be holy. I believe with all my heart that this is the authors intent, the Lord's plan, my hearts prayer that they bless you as much as they have blessed me. May God bless the time and energies sacrificed by the author in its production. Sincerely in Christ, Michael Lawrence. When writing with Shirley Dye on messenger about editing the book, she commented that this book would be a blessing to many people. That is my solemn humble prayer. Short Story Content 1. Mr. B.G. (My Testimony) 2. Trevor Wins Three Times 3. Winning The Man ON Rock-Hill 4. Sally Saved Three Times 5. Jonathan and Family Find God 6. Upright and Prideful Key Text, (Matthew 18:3), “And (Jesus) said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.

Peter’s Vision in Joppa In Caesarea lived a Roman soldier named Cornelius. So Cornelius wasn’t a Jew. He was a Gentile. Yet he was true to God and gave to the poor. He always prayed. One afternoon this man had a vision. An angel came and said, “Cornelius?” “What is it, Lord?” Cornelius stared at the angel in terror. “Send men to Joppa and find Peter at Simon’s house.” Quickly, Cornelius sent for Peter. About noon the next day Peter went to Simon’s roof to pray. While he waited, Peter fell into a trance. He saw a large sheet coming from heaven. In it were all kinds of animals. A voice spoke, “Peter get up and eat these animals.” But the animals in the sheet were banned by Jewish law. So, to Peter, the meat wasn’t clean. “No, Lord,” said Peter. “I’ve never eaten any unclean meat.” “God has made this meat clean. Don’t call it unclean again.” Peter was puzzled about this. Just then the men came from Cornelius. The next day, Peter went with them to Cornelius’s house in Caesarea. The Spirit and the Gentiles Cornelius’ relatives and close friends were all gathered. Finally, Peter arrived. Cornelius fell at Peter’s feet to worship him. “Get up,” Peter said, “I’m only a mortal man.” In the house, Peter said, “You know that I’m a Jew. It’s against our law to visit a Gentile. But God told me not to call anyone unclean.” This was the meaning of Peter’s vision two days before. “So I had no problem coming here. What do you want?” Cornelius replied, “Four days ago a man in dazzling clothes came to me. ‘Cornelius,’ he said, ‘God has heard your prayers. Send to Joppa and find Peter.’ I did this and you’re kind enough to come. We’re here in the presence of God to listen to you.” So Peter began to tell them the good news about Jesus Christ. He mentioned forgiveness of sins in Jesus’ name but had to stop. The Holy Spirit had fallen on everyone listening. The Jewish believers with Peter were astounded. The Father’s gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured on the Gentiles! “Let’s baptize these people in the name of Jesus Christ,” said Peter. And they stayed there for several days.

The Suffering of Job A man named Job lived east of Canaan. He was very rich, and also very good. Once the angels were standing in front of God. Satan was there with them. “Have you seen my servant Job?” God asked. “There’s no one like him. He’s blameless and right and rejects evil.” “Take away all he has. He’ll curse you,” Satan said. “All right, Satan,” God said. “Do what you want with him.” Soon trouble came to Job. His animals were driven away or killed with Job’s shepherd. Then all his sons and daughters were killed. Their house fell in on them. All this happened in one day. Job said, "I came into this world with nothing. I'll leave with nothing, too. The Lord gave me everything; he can take it away. The Lord's name is blessed." God again said to Satan, “Have you seen Job? He’s blameless and right.” “Give me power to make him sick. Then we’ll see how good he is.” “All right, Satan,” God said, “just don’t kill him.” The Prayer of Job Satan made sores come onto Job’s body. This was very painful. But Job wouldn’t speak against God. “You should curse God and die,” his wife said. “Should we take the good from the Lord and not the bad?” he answered. Job’s friends thought God had made the bad things happen. “Maybe Job has done evil,” they said, “and this is punishment.” Job didn’t believe this. He knew God’s goodness. “You don’t speak the truth about me,” God told them. “But Job does.” So Job prayed for his friends. God returned to Job twice as much as he’d lost.

Paul’s Farewell The leaders of the church in Ephesus came to Miletus. “You know how I live my life,” Paul began. “I humbly serve the Lord with tears. I suffer the plots against my life. If there’s any way to help, I do it. I brought God’s message to your city and your houses. I told everyone about turning to God and faith in Jesus. “And now the Spirit is leading me to Jerusalem. Prison and hardship are waiting for me there. But I don’t prize my life for my own sake. I just want to finish my work. This is the important thing: to declare the good news of God’s grace. “Now, I know that none of you will ever see my face again. I wasn’t afraid to tell you God’s whole purpose. So the rest is up to you. I hand you over to God and the message of his grace. “Remember that I never asked for money. Instead I worked with these two hands for myself and my friends. Remember the Lord’s words: “It’s more blessed to give than to receive.’” They knelt together in prayer. The men from Ephesus wept. They’d never see Paul again.

By praying about a specific subject at bedtime, we invite God to send a dream message in response to that prayer. By recording what we remember about our dreams soon after waking (when we’re in what psychologists call the “hypnagogic state” of transition, with our conscious and subconscious minds working together), we create valuable records to study and learn from dream patterns. By thinking and praying about the images in our dreams, we can learn from their symbolic meaning for us. By applying what we learn from dream insights to our waking lives, we can experience the wonder of closer relationships with God. Look

Chilled ice tea that tempered tepid summer days lathered thick with humidity. Frothy hot chocolate that cut winter’s chill. Bedtime prayers that sent our fears scrambling in panicked flight. Golden bouquets of dandelions aromatically rich with the gift of summers scent. Family meals that wove yet another binding thread in and through the tapestry of those seated around the table. These are but the slightest sampling of the innumerable gifts my mother handed to this child of hers. And without them, my life would be impoverished beyond words to describe.

Ask your spouse if you can begin praying together. Talk about the best time to do this, whether it’s in the morning, your lunch hour, or before bedtime. Use this time to commit your concerns, disagreements, and needs before the Lord. Don’t forget to thank Him for His provision and blessing. Even if your spouse refuses to do this, resolve to spend this daily time in prayer yourself.

A WOMAN OF PRAYER Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, in everything give thanks; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 NKJV On his second missionary journey, Paul started a small church in Thessalonica. A short time later, he penned a letter that was intended to encourage the new believers at that church. Today, almost 2,000 years later, 1 Thessalonians remains a powerful, practical guide for Christian living. In his letter, Paul advised members of the new church to “pray without ceasing.” His advice applies to Christians of every generation. When we consult God on an hourly basis, we avail ourselves of His wisdom, His strength, and His love. As Corrie ten Boom observed, “Any concern that is too small to be turned into a prayer is too small to be made into a burden.” Today, make yourself a woman of prayer. Instead of turning things over in your mind, turn them over to God in prayer. Instead of worrying about your next decision, ask God to lead the way. Don’t limit your prayers to meals or bedtime. Become a woman of constant prayer. God is listening, and He wants to hear from you. Now. The manifold rewards of a serious, consistent prayer life demonstrate clearly that time with our Lord should be our first priority. Shirley Dobson A TIMELY TIP Today, ask yourself if your prayer life is all that it should be. If the answer is yes, keep up the good work. But if the answer is no, set aside a specific time each morning to talk to God. And then, when you’ve set aside a time for prayer, don’t allow yourself to become sidetracked.

Monitor baths: For some children bathtime winds them up. If that is the case, do it earlier in your routine, or leave it for the morning. For others, it is calming. • Avoid electronics and TV, which can have a reawakening effect on many children. They seem calm and cozied in as they watch TV, but then they are excited when the video is done. Best not to use electronics or TV close to bedtime. • Keep routines short and simple. They should take no more than an hour (at most, if you are including the bath), and thirty minutes is even better. Lengthier routines get children stirred up as they have extra time to anticipate the inevitable separation. • Let them have simple choices. “Would you like to read Curious George first or Goodnight Moon?” Such simple questions give them some, but limited control and keeps you moving forward to bed. • Sing or listen to a lullaby—either can be soothing. Some parents like to add prayers or a quiet review of the day. • Try to create a cozy corner in their room for sleep once your child moves to a bed. Make sure the bed is against a wall, ideally in a corner, and feels like a comforting place. • If one parent is coming home late, do your best not to have it during the good-night routine. For many children, the return of that parent stirs them up. Better that they see you, when they are refreshed, in the morning.

Thank You, Lord I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. —PHILIPPIANS 4:11     Why wait for Thanksgiving Day to be thankful? One day a year is not enough. Every day upon waking and every evening before we nod off to sleep, these two words need to come from our mouths: “Thank You.” A few years ago Bob and I wrote and gathered a collection of prayers, old and new, called Grateful Hearts Give Thanks. These prayers for mealtime, bedtime, and special occasions focus on how great God is and how we can bless Him by saying, “Thank You.” When we as individuals and as a united body can say thank You, we give witness to the world that we are aware that all we have comes from above. “This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it…. Give thanks to the LORD, for he is good; his love endures forever (Psalm 118:24,29). When we have thankful hearts, our lifestyles are changed. We no longer are self-centered, trying to acquire more and more. When we do not embrace thanksgiving, we are never satisfied with what we have but need more and more. Malcontents are rarely thankful for all they have. We read in Psalm 100:4, “Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name.” With thanks is how we enter into His presence. We must humble our hearts before approaching our good God. You can easily tell what motivates another person by how she is able to give thanks for all that she has. Ungodly people will not honor God or give thanks; they become futile in their speculations, and their foolish hearts will be darkened. (See Romans 1:21.) “Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus” (1 Thessalonians 5:18). Thankful believers will be content with all that God has provided. They will know that thankfulness is wanting just what they have and not wanting anymore. Spiritual thankfulness lets us say, “I don’t need that,” when we’re tempted to purchase something that we would like but don’t have the money for. It will prevent us from having that rich chocolate dessert when we are trying to lose a few pounds and inches around our waistlines.

Bloodied, sickened, broken down, we tarry while we may. For though life has wearied us, from death there’s no escape. One prayer, one stand, one wild charge, before it is too late, For though dark and dreary thus, there’s nothing left to hate

What business is it of yours, miserable worm, if I feel like mentioning a great sinner like that in my bedtime prayers. Maybe it was because most likely nobody has ever crossed himself for her sake, never even thought of it.

return home. If there was not enough work to go around on a particular day, he’d drop into the synagogue, recite a couple of psalms, listen to the ongoing discussion of the Mishnah or the hair-splitting arguments over a page of the Gemara, the concluding sections of the Talmud. At the end of the day, he would enjoy a cooked dairy noodle supper, read the bedtime prayers and go to sleep. A few years after the family had become entrenched back into life in Biržai, Moishe realized Berl-David was ready to join him in his daily routine. “Berl,” he called to him. “Do you remember the time in Kazan when I was almost killed? Well, let me remind you,” he said before Berl could answer. “Shortly after the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917, the Tatars tried to kill me because of my business dealings. But a Russian saved me from certain death. Do you know why that happened?” “No,

• If school is difficult, you could pray a set prayer right before they go in that says, “God, as kiddo is in school today, help them know You are near and You care.” • If a sibling relationship is rocky, your child could pray a set prayer for the relationship like, “God, I don’t always get along with [sibling]. You are patient and slow to get mad. Help me practice that, too, and when I’m not, thanks for helping us mend things and try again.” • If your child has a stumper of a faith question that won’t be answered easily, you could have a set prayer about that very thing. In fact, this is what we did after that car conversation about proof. At bedtime, we had a set prayer of “God, Riley is having a hard time trusting that You’re here when You can’t be seen, touched, or heard like he hears me now. Would You help him know that’s okay, and would You help him get to know You as he grows?

It’s a simple thing, really. A two-mile trip. She’s home in time “to do the teeth and the prayers and the whole bedtime routine.” And yet, having this one night that she knows is for her, and is separate from her work and family responsibilities, has changed her perspective about her schedule—making her more relaxed, and making time in general more joyful. “I’m not great, but it’s fun, and it’s something I look forward to,” she says. Physical activity tends to make people feel good—as

Remedio : Ocotillo (Candlewood) To forgive one’s life love for dying, pick the long, feather-like, crimson flowers in early spring, when the desert is in bloom. Boil in river water only. Let cool. Drink at once. Drink when waking, at noon, and at bedtime each day for three full weeks thereafter. If resentment persists, go to your beloved’s grave daily and pray for forgiveness until sound sleep and appetite return. ◊◊◊ My last days May they pass slow as black smoke goes father’s only prayer of late No No I’m certain that he stole it from Adam I’m sure who first uttered it just outside the Garden the first night he spent alone

Sebastian was smiling at her, and that more than any rousing argument suggested to Milly he might not grasp the situation in all its terrible entirely. “I cannot marry you, my lord.” “You can kiss me, but you can’t use my name?” “And I cannot marry you. I am a companion, in service, in case you’ve forgotten.” His smile did not falter, so Milly fired her biggest cannon. “I cannot read. What baroness cannot even read the menus put before her by the cook? Cannot read bedtime stories to her own children? Can barely follow along in the Book of Common Prayer—” His smile shifted, becoming tender rather than pleased. “You can sing to the children instead, tell them stories you make up, or listen to their own fanciful tales. You’re resourceful, my dear, and you shall contrive. As a baroness, you will contrive magnificently.” Based on the pride Milly heard in his tone, St. Clair had already dispatched announcements to Lady Freddy’s cronies, cried the banns, and said his vows. He was not resigned to this dire turn of events; he was rejoicing in it. While she…could not read. When St. Clair slipped his arms around her again, Milly leaned into him and tried not to cry.

What Is True Prayer? Spiritual exercises are the way to become more aware of this life. Spiritual exercises, contemplation, and prayer of the right kind are all the same. Basically, it’s opening your heart to God or the Holy Spirit and listening. Correct prayer is listening to God. If a person is going to err in prayer, it’s through too much telling or talking to God. There’s nothing wrong with telling or asking; there’s nothing wrong with talking to God. But after you’ve asked your question, listen. Be quiet and listen. Listening is true prayer, prayer of the highest sort. Even prayer where you’re asking God something is of a high sort, or it can be. But sometimes people carry it to extremes. When I was a child, my parents had us say our childhood prayers at bedtime. As I grew up and went to divinity school, I would still say my prayers at night. Not that those of us at divinity school were very righteous. A very small percentage were truly pious, and the rest of us were about average. We got along. We knew God was there. We did our lessons; we did our Bible study and science and math. There were also those in divinity school who were quite nonpious. I used to say my prayers nightly, but away from home I could try out my wings a little bit. Some nights I’d just lie there and ask God for all kinds of things. I’d ask God for riches. I’d ask God to get rid of my toothaches. They came from all the sugar I ate; I hadn’t made the connection between sugar and tooth decay. Every Sunday I’d go to the bakery and buy all this wonderful chocolate, all these jelly-filled rolls—I’d just stuff myself. I’d buy enough for my friends too. It took me years to figure out what I was doing, and I think the toothaches helped. Life has a way of teaching us better. This is what I learned about prayer, that sometimes there is a wrong sort of prayer: you ask God to take away a toothache when basically you should stop eating the things that give you the toothache. But that’s how we learn. People ask God to make them rich, and at the same time they squander their money. They have done this their whole lives. What kind of a prayer is that? It’s a prayer of irresponsibility. You’re not taking responsibility for your own welfare. I’m not talking about people who through the circumstances of life find themselves in a bad situation or after being retired for twenty years find that inflation has eaten into their savings and it’s very difficult for them to take care of themselves. These are very real problems. If these people ask God for help, you would expect that. But mostly, true prayer is listening to God.

Never tell a secret, never tell a lie. If you break a promise you will surely die. Say your prayers at bedtime, God forgive your sin. Then when you get to heaven the angels let you in.