Dear God,

I don’t know what to say.

Sometimes I get repetitive and ask for all the same things, after glossing over my thanks for the huge things.

Sometimes I fall asleep when I pray.

You already know this.

I’m sorry.

Sometimes I pray from the perspective of my children, asking that we can all be good boys and not be consumed by anxiety. And that we can go in the potty.

And sometimes (occasionally,) I pray aloud. But usually, I pray silently, in my head.

I know you know all the things I need—that we need. Even in the worst times, you’ve given us exactly enough to keep going another day. I can recognize the pattern.

It’s taken me a long dozen years, but I am starting to see.

So this prayer will be solely about me counting my blessings.

Thank you for the helpers—for the behavior therapists, our behaviorist, our support coordinator, the bus drivers, the teachers, the aides, the doctors, the OTs, the SLPs, and the legion of sitters over the years. They make life beyond a scraping existence possible. They are dear to me.

Thank you for the snow—for unveiling winter’s subtle beauty. Thank you for seasons that dress the earth differently and make it feel new.

Thank you for heaping change on my family, for taking us from regular to comfortable to dismal to train wreck to phoenix. Thank you for holding us up through the process. Thank you for the chance to grow.

Thank you for Jesus.

Please thank Jesus for me.

I love you both,

me.

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