At breakfast yesterday I told my children to say a prayer for their grandfather who is in the hospital after stubbornly deciding to tile Nana’s backyard patio all by himself. I said, “Kids, pray really hard for Papa.” They proceeded to clasp their little hands together in a super tight grasp and through clenched teeth pushed out a prayer, straining to say it as “hard” as they could. I laughed to myself thinking how cute and how innocent. Maybe that prayer would be the most powerful I thought. I spent the rest of the day worrying about how I should pray for my father. I said a personal prayer but wanted to do more. This was important and I really needed God to hear…
