I owe you an apology. I’ve been working so hard on so many things, and keeping you in my back pocket like a Genie or magic potion. I’ve only pulled you out to yell and ask why things aren’t going my way.
Why is my furnace broken? Why is the Cookbook Project stagnating? Why is Grandpa Jack dead? Why does my family struggle?
Oh, sure. I’ve been praying. A lot. But mostly selfish, “Help Me” prayers.
The truth is, I don’t need your “help”. I don’t want it. To be a Helper means to be an assistant, and … read the rest. . .