"I can't even pray," he said softly. His spirit was so low even God would have
to stoop to raise him up.
But God would do that for him.
Some days I wake up and I find myself taking inventory of all my pains, problems
and failed attempts at living a perfect life.
I moan and gripe about everything until I feel there's nothing left to complain
about.
Then I regret it because I see some simple little thing like a flower, sunshine
breaking through the darkness, music on my alarm clock radio, or two dogs
jumping for joy because I got up and they want to play.
If none of that shakes me back into reality, all I need to do to put my life in
perspective is pick up the newspaper.
Suddenly I have a wonderful life, indeed.
Then again all I really need to change my attitude is to talk to Joe.
His life is a real mess. Frankly, I've said all I can to try to inspire him. As
one tragedy piled on another I offered him the best thinking I had. I even did
some research and gathered some of the best minds together in an effort to lift
his spirits.
It's really unbelievable.
Now, he says to me that he can't even pray. It's not that he doesn't believe any
more. He is just beaten to the ground and can't find the strength to put a
prayer together.
"God, help me," I said to him.
"What?" He asked.
"Joe, you really don't need a fancy prayer to get help from God. He knows
everything that's wrong and He is everything that's right," I said.
"Bob, I know you've had some tough times in your life. What did you do?" He
asked.
My life was never as challenging as his, but for me, at that moment in time, the
world was darker than it had ever been before. That was enough to bring me down.
I thought carefully about what I would say to him. I asked God for the right
words.
"Time is my prayer, " I said.
He looked at me wanting an explanation but too tired to ask for it.
"When I could not find the words, when I could not ask for help, God still heard
me," I told him.
"It was all in how I spent my time. Even though I found no reason to live, I
still pulled myself through everyday. I could remember begging God to take my
life. If I woke up the next morning I knew he had plans for me. He gave me more
time. So how I spent that time was my prayer to him. I could not ask Him for
anything and I could not even say "thanks" because I couldn't see any value in
my life. That is except for time. I was seeing myself as useless and He was
giving me more time. What I chose to do with that time was my prayer of thanks
to Him."
Joe smiled, lifted his head and waved goodbye as he turned to walk away.
Two days later I found a small box on my porch. It had my name on it.
I opened it and found an old wind up clock in it with a note attached.
It read, "I woke up this morning and took some time to thank God for you. Now,
"Time is MY prayer!" Joe
Bob Perks Bob@BobPerks.com
The Illustrator: This daily newsletter is dedicated to encouraging
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