2015-11-01T10:33:55-05:00

Happy All Saints Day!  I’ll be staying home with a cold, thank you.   Which is why we want to talk about the super-novena that begins today and finishes up for Christmas.

Here’s the story: I stink at praying.  I used to be okay at it, but real life kicked me in the rear, and I’m not one of those people who takes every trial as an opportunity to watch less TV so they can pray even more.

If, to take last night’s example, my throat is painful to the point of distraction, this does not make me want to silently mouth five decades of offered-up-suffering.  It makes me want to watch cheesy foreign romantic comedies.  And in my delirium, I even persuade myself that at least I’m gaining insights into the universal quest for a life of love as lived out in the vocation of holy matrimony.  Actually I’m just watching a bad movie, but I’m good at telling myself things.

There are some other things I stink at, and sticking to a schedule is one of them.  The good news is that if a child of mine wakes up in the middle of the night with a stomach virus, I can roll with it.  The thought of tomorrow’s schedule being totally wrecked doesn’t bother me all that much.  But if I want to do something on a repeated, consistent, scheduled basis, the reliable way to make that thing happen is to cause someone else to enforce the schedule.

Show me someone who’s good in a crisis, and I’ll show you someone who knows how to nap on the floor of an airport.  That’s a skill you develop by years and years of dedicated not going to bed on time.

Meanwhile, here I am, person who is supposed to be praying the rosary every day.  There are good reasons for this (read the story), and one of the reasons, in addition to the copious graces that flow from that devotion, is that it allows the Legion of Mary to create a betting pool in the month before their annual phone call to see if I’m still on board. (Inside tip: Smart money says that I’ll find some way of carefully stating that I’m still doing my auxiliary thing, but without falsely creating the impression I’m any good at it.  I think maybe my primary role in the Legion is to amuse the other members with my annual explaining of myself to the lady who sends out the birthday cards.)

I am also a person who wants to have a schedule.  I want to be one of those rule-of-life people.  I fully understand the need, in family life, for some kind of order and predictability.

And thus lately my prayer life has failed, and I think it’s because I’ve gotten not just lazy, but also too advanced or myself. To recap:

  • I’m a master of excuses for not praying.
  • I stink at sticking to a schedule.
  • My life is nuts.  I keep pretending it’s not, but really it is.  It just is.
  • But I keep trying to pray on a schedule.

This is a bad combination.  Thus the kick I needed to day was this post on the 54-Day Miraculous Novena.  Because of this:

Since it wasn’t realistic to find a solid 20 minutes every day, I squeezed pieces of the Rosary into whatever time slot I could find. I said a decade when I was making coffee and packing the lunches. I said another while waiting for colleagues to gather for a conference call at work. I fit one in while waiting in the pick-up line at school and said another while I was doing the dishes.

I needed the double-kick of a friend pointing out that if you begin the 54 days on All Saints, it finishes up Christmas Eve.  There’s a Facebook group for that.  Even though I have no reason to think I’ll quit after Christmas (barring some weird divine intervention*), I found that I needed the idea of just sticking to it for 54 days, no excuses, as a focus.   If you can’t be good for the rest of your life, at least you could hold it together until Christmas?

***

But if you are reading this after the first, don’t think your chance has passed.  One of the beauties of being Catholic is that we live feast-to-feast.  So if you start on the 2nd, consider the Novena from All Souls to St. Stephen’s Day.  If you start on the 3rd, It’s St. Martin de Porres (master of prayer, I’d observe) to the feast of the Holy Family.  Start on the 4th, St. Charles Borromeo (patron of seminarians, among others) to Holy Innocents.  You can’t go wrong.  Every 54 days has just the thing you need.

Meanwhile, for inspiration my friend Kat Fernandez posted some super collections of Rosary Art during October. It’s like she was setting the stage for us.

 

File:Rosari 2.jpg

Photo: Antique Rosaries [Public Domain] via Wikimedia.

 

*Ha.  As if.  C’mon, who are we kidding? Like God is really going to ask me to stop praying the Rosary? I don’t think so.

2015-10-27T21:44:33-05:00

My friend Lisa Mladinich asked me to write today on chapter six of her beautiful new book, True Radiance: Finding Grace in the Second Half of Life.

Lisa’s going to be doing a giveaway of her book for readers of this blog over at her place, and yes, I completely forgot to ask whether that will be at AmazingCatechists.com or Water into Wine, so check both!  I’ll update here when I have the direct link.

(I explained to her that me putting things in the mail was not a good way to make sure it arrived before Christmas.  Any Christmas.  She gamely agreed to host “my” giveaway herself.  She’s super that way.)

***

Mostly people don’t talk about vocations late in life.  When they do, in our youth-obsessed culture, it’s to run some rah-rah post about the 97-year-old who just got her law degree or something like that.  You can still be just like a young person!  Even at your age!

The error isn’t in thinking that there’s nothing new to be done, no new part of yourself to be discovered and delivered to the world.  There most certainly is, and I love watching that newness unfold in the women around me — some my age, just getting started on the second half of life, others easing into what you might reasonably call the third half of life.

The error, rather, is in thinking that the vocation thing is all about degrees or jobs or exciting new travel destinations or I’m not sure what.  That’s not what your vocation is.

Your vocation, Lisa writes, is something much more than that:

“The lifeblood of every vocation is the realization that we are most completely ourselves when we love sacrificially, strengthened by prayer and sacramental life. Living in divine love is the only answer to our human longings. We are made in the image and likeness of God, so it is only by loving as he does that we find fulfillment.”

The book looks into the lives of a handful of women in various states of life — married, vowed religious, consecrated virgins.   There are some very down-to-earth comments about the difficulties and joys of each state of life.   I felt, in reading those stories, that I’d finally found my people.  I felt that I’d finally run into that meeting point of authenticity and maturity that’s missing in so much of the chit-chat of popular culture.

(For those who are single-but-not-consecrated, I think several of the different vocations reports will have something to resonate with what’s going on in your life.  The chapter isn’t about having a special vocational label, it’s about living out our universal vocation to love.)

It’s not lip gloss and nail polish.  There’s nothing about how much fun it will be now that the kids are gone, or you’re only as old as you feel, or any of that nonsense.  It’s about the Christian life.  It’s about reaching the age when you realize all the shiny categories and awards aren’t the big thing.  The big thing is showing up every day and loving God and neighbor in whatever way is handed to you that day.

If you’ve ever met a lady who does that, you know all about true radiance.

 

If you’d like to follow along with the True Radiance Blog Tour, here’s the whole schedule, and then Lisa’s going to announce a couple surprise stops at the end:

There’s a giveaway at every stop, to enter early and often!

 

2015-10-25T14:18:06-05:00

For those who’ve followed the news from afar, The Catholic Miscellany has some great stories posted about the flooding in South Carolina:

Here’s the story of a family rescued from their home as the waters hit chest-high on the ground floor:

The first two boats wouldn’t start. Anxiety built, but eventually the neighbors were able to crank a pontoon boat and steered it toward the Duprees’ front door.

Emory, 8, was trying to keep her 6-year-old brother, Watson, calm as her mom and dad explained that a boat was going to come and they would carry the children outside. Emory’s words ended up inspiring the entire family.

“She said ‘You know, Watson, God challenges us but He knows we can handle it, and it’s going to be OK,’” Mr. Dupree said. “That was surprising to us. It was a very special moment.”

The family attends St. Joseph’s, which is near some of the worst of the Midlands flooding.   Follow the link for notes on how to help with their relief efforts.  The parish itself was untouched, as it sits on high ground. Here’s a round-up of the damage to Catholic parishes, schools, and nursing homes, and other facilities around the state.

I mentioned in a previous post that our diocesan Catholic Charities (directly overseen by the bishop) is a good destination for your almsgiving if you wish to help with flood relief.  You can read about some of their work here, as well as other local Catholic relief efforts in the immediate aftermath.  If a particular group or parish grabs your attention as one you’d like to support directly, you can find contact info by trolling around the diocesan website at SCCatholic.org.

You’ll notice that on the front of that page right now is a tiny square with an appeal from the bishop for donations to assist in flood relief. Let’s talk about that.

“Flood Victim.”  I don’t think that word means what you think it means.

When we think of people who need assistance post-flood, the obvious category is families like the Duprees, whose homes were filled with water.  That’s one category, and a serious one. Another group talked about less are those whose business or farm was shut down due to the flooding.  The third group, and it’s the one that the various Catholic social assistance programs are especially well-equipped to help, are the families being pushed just over the edge with small-scale flood-related expenses.

Here’s SCDOT’s road closure update for today, from their Facebook page:

South Carolina Department of Transportation (SCDOT) Acting Secretary Christy A. Hall has issued her Sunday, Oct. 25, update on the transportation system in South Carolina.
Secretary Hall’s report has information including:
• State road closures are down from a peak of 541 (Oct. 5) to 129 (Oct. 25), a 76 percent decrease.
• More than 425 SCDOT highway workers, approximately 67 crews, are staffing the recovery effort.
• 15 debris collection trucks and trailers are operating. More than 36,000 cubic yards of debris collected total.
• SCDOT Call Center is operating 6 am—7 pm daily. There have been over 3.5 million visits to the SCDOT Road Conditions webpage during this event.
• All Interstate highways are open.
• 12 primary routes remain closed statewide.
• The majority of the current closures are on the state’s Secondary System.

A complete copy of the Secretary’s Oct. 25 update can be found at this link:http://www.scdot-transfer.org/…/SecretaryStormRecoveryRepor…

Secretary Hall’s report summarized several topics including the resources deployed by SCDOT in the state’s recovery effort, the current condition of the state-maintained highway system including remaining closures, a review of other modes of transportation such as rail, aviation, marine and transit services and debris removal operations.

It’s good news overall.  SCDOT mobilized crews from around the state, and they’ve been working like crazy people to re-open roads.  Keep in mind that we’re talking about major structural damage on a massive scale — stuff that DOT usually just doesn’t see.  For DOT, this flood was like waking up one morning and being told that you have to build 500 new roads.  Today.

For the families affected by these road closures, it’s like waking up and discovering that for the next month, or two, or three, your commute has just doubled or tripled.

That’s a minor inconvenience if you’ve got a good cushion of savings and a solid social network in place.  But if you were already trying to figure out from month to month how to pay your car expenses, or already just barely getting out of work in time to pick up your kids from school or the babysitter’s house, now something really big has to give.  Rent?  Utilities?  Hospital bills?

These are the people the bishop’s stewardship appeal are particularly well-suited to help.  Catholic, diocesan-funded programs around the state are already providing prescription assistance, help with utility bills, food, clothing, and a pile of other small but important fill-the-gap, in-kind helps for families that get underwater every now and then.  They are already the pro’s at helping people stay in their homes, hold onto to their jobs, and generally push through the current crisis and get onto steady footing.

These groups are already working in tandem with other agencies to coordinate services and help clients find the kind of help that they need, in the amount that will genuinely benefit them.  These groups are already established in the areas affected by the floods.  It doesn’t matter whether you can’t pay your water bill because you are trying to rebuild your entire life or because you just can’t afford to live thirty miles farther from work than you did last week.  Either way, you need help keeping the water on, and the diocesan collection is ideal for providing that kind of help.

Here’s the entry page for the diocese, and here’s a direct link to the donations page.  Use the comments section on the donation form to indicate that your donation is specifically for flood relief.  Thanks!

File:Adi Holzer Werksverzeichnis 260.jpg

Artwork: Adi Holzer: The Flood, 1975.  Used by permission, via Wikimedia.

 

 

2015-10-24T10:31:49-05:00

Building on my previous post, I want to talk some more about the clash of expectations that leads to poverty-nagging.   Today we’ll look at the “But she has a smartphone!” line of welfare reform proposals.

Back in the 1980’s, my parents bought an IBM PC.  This was when getting a computer (of any kind) in your home was first becoming common.  It didn’t have a hard drive, it had a four-color monitor (black, white, pink, green), and it most certainly was not connected to the internet.  When you wanted to use it, you turned it on, went through a five-minute booting-up process, and you periodically saved your work to a floppy disk throughout your session.  When you finished working, you went through a shutting-down process, and the machine remained entirely turned off until the next session.

“Using the computer” was a discrete event, like cooking dinner or mowing the lawn; you didn’t just pop on to look something up (that’s why you owned that bookcase full of encyclopedias, a dictionary, and a phone book).

It was also a luxury of the upper middle class. A PC cost about $2,000.  Housing prices varied  tremendously around the nation then as they do now (electronics, in contrast, cost about the same no matter where you live), but pulling a number out of the air based on foggy memory, let’s say you could get rent or a mortgage on a decent, affordable home of some nature for about $500 a month.  So a PC represented about four month’s housing costs.

***

In those days, and those days represent the lived reality for over half the nation’s voters, you couldn’t have a cell phone.  They simply were not.

You could have a pager in the 1980’s, if you were someone who needed to be within phone contact at all times.  People would dial your pager number, punch in the number they wanted you to call (or a code, if you’d worked out a system to communicate via numerical messages), and you would find a phone and call the number.  Doctors had them.  My friend with diabetes had them for her family, so that in a medical crisis someone could call her parents ASAP.  Drug dealers found them eminently useful.

Meanwhile, no one had a cell phone.  If you needed to make a phone call away from home, you carried a dime and a winsome attitude.  The former got you the use of a pay phone, the latter you habitually employed in talking business owners into letting you just use the office phone.  If you broke down on the side of the road, it was socially acceptable to walk to the nearest home or business and ask to use their phone.  If you saw someone broken down on the side of the road, it was courteous to stop and offer assistance — such as driving them to a telephone.

Local calls were free (no minutes usage), long distance was expensive.  Common courtesy held that, within reason, you made your phone available to people for local calls, and that your guests would reimburse you for the cost of long-distance.  Meanwhile, you did things like setting a year’s worth of Girl Scout events on the calendar at the start of the year and sticking to it, because it was difficult to communicate last minute changes.  When you hosted an event of any kind, you mailed out (using the post office) written directions to the event location. The concept of merely giving the address of the event was utterly foreign — everyone with sense carried maps and knew how to use them, but the maps were not so detailed as all that.

All this is to say: In the time before cell phones, people got along fine.

***

Because the majority of voters lived happily and well in the time before cell phones, we also remember the transition to them.  We remember when only real estate agents and the impossibly wealthy carried such things.  We remember when it was a big deal for executives to own a digital address book and calendar, and the thing didn’t even make phone calls  — you might also have a little flip phone, if you rated one.  We remember the arrival of “smart” phones, and how utterly excessive they seemed.

Our imaginations are still rooted in a world where landlines are the default, frugal way of living.

***

When I needed to buy a cell phone recently, I spent less than $100.  That bought me a machine, new in the box, that could do far more than my parents’ IBM PC ever thought about.  In the 1980’s when children would submit their “What the Year 2000 Will Be Like” essays, we definitely included flying cars, but everything cell phones do today was purely in the realm of Inspector Gadget.

The cost of basic cell service is about the same as for a landline, and hence last year we had to phone the phone company (using a cell) to tell them our land service was out, because they’d literally forgotten they still had a landline customer on our branch and had shut off the phone service to our street.  So when we talk about phone services verses smart-phone ownership, utility costs are essentially a wash.  You can choose to spend extra on either service, but you don’t have to.

Rent has gone up since the 1980’s.  Again, prices vary widely, but to pull another number from the air, you might pay $800 a month for some kind of affordable housing.  Maybe less, maybe more, depending on what’s available in your area.

The computer, now hand-held, full-color, capable of making phone calls, sending e-mails, playing television shows, and getting directions to the event no one sends out directions for anymore, costs perhaps an eighth of a month’s rent.

In 1985 if you fell on hard times, you could sell your computer and get yourself a few month’s housing someplace for it.  It might or might not have been a wise decision, but it was a possibility.  In 2015, if you try to sell your computer (now tiny and portable), you could barely make a dent in this month’s rent.

***

 In 1985, in order to get a job, you didn’t need a computer, you just needed a phone.    You would walk into a business, fill out a paper application using a pen (Job hunter’s tip of the time: Carry a blue or black pen), and someone would phone you at your home phone number if you got the job.  In 2015, you still need the phone, and you’re far better off it happens to also be a computer, because chances are your employer wants you to apply online, and wishes to reply via e-mail.

***

The difficulty for the imagination is that upper-middle class voters of a certain age still view cell phones as a luxury.  We remember living without them, and we remember that time when we finally made the decision to add this extra thing, this optional thing, into our life.  Or, if the purchase was a “need,” we perceive it as something unique to our circumstances, like my friend whose parents carried pagers because of her unique medical needs.  We have difficulty believing that such an item could be a prudent, frugal decision for the average person in financial distress.

We are essentially the equivalent of the curmudgeonly poverty-nagging neighbor in 1960 looking around the shanty and saying, “A phone!  You have a phone in your house!  And you say you’re poor? We didn’t have phones on our farm until 1949, and we got along just fine!”

File:France in XXI Century. Correspondance cinema.jpg

Artwork: Video telephony in the year 2000, as imagined in 1910, via Wikimedia, where you can learn more about the whole collection.

 

2015-10-16T18:12:38-05:00

Point them to the internet.

In class this morning, the kids got their formal introduction to Mr. Straw.  We’re working through The Fallacy Detective, and the way we do most chapters is that the kids read the text at home, we discuss the definition of the fallacy, and then the kids each contribute an example they’ve either invented or endured.  We do assorted exercises to practice identifying the various fallacies we’ve studied and to distinguish them from legitimate arguments.

Because of the flood, we had to race through two classes in one in order to stay on track with the syllabus for the year.  Last on the list this morning was the infamous Straw Man.

The kids, of course, grasped this one intuitively.  They see it all the time.  What with literacy and a presidential campaign on, it’s virtually unavoidable.  If you’re in Catholic blogging, it’s the pollution lacing the air you breathe.

So here’s the thing that I didn’t have to spell out in class, because teenagers are smarter than anyone lets on:  All the other fallacies have valid kinsmen.  An ad hominen is a bogus argument, but there do exist situations in which the opponent’s character is relevant.  A tu quoque may be illogical, but it does pose a question that deserves to be explored — why exactly does the opponent fail to follow through on his own advice?   But the straw man lies alone.  That’s just someone being stupid.

 

***

 

Want to wade through the dreadful morass and find good things to read?  Here are some links for your edification. I’m always posting stuff like this on my @JenFitz_Reads Twitter feed as I find it:

Meanwhile, if you are experiencing the natural anxiety that anyone feels when a large group of bishops leave their sees, where they are usually so safely dispersed,  and gather together like a swarm of bees attracted to a controversial topic, consider praying to St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, patron saint of people in a pickle.  He knows your pain.

File:St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, with scenes from his life.jpg

Artwork:  St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, with scenes from his life. Tempera on woodpanel. Vetka, Russia 1850s. [Public Domain] via Wikimedia.  Well worth clicking through on the image and then zooming to appreciate the detail.

M. is for Merciful.  If you want to meet a man who loves Jesus and radiates that love, spend a few minutes with Father M.

2015-10-16T16:20:08-05:00

A year and some ago, I wrote this, now showing live at CatholicMom.com because it’s the 16th of the month:

How often do my priorities get out of order? How often do I put needless worries ahead of my worship of God?

. . . Lord, show me how to prioritize my day, my week, my month, and my year. Show me the right use of my body, and the proper care of my soul. Help me to give myself to you completely, body and soul. Amen.

Dagnabbit. Caught myself out again.  On the other hand, it does happen to be exactly what I’ve been praying about lately, so, well, there I am.

Writing tip: The way I write these Gospel reflections is I read the Gospel, and I pray something that more or less translates to, Dear Jesus, what do I particularly stink at?  Because I’m probably not the only one. Or at least if I’m the only one, other people can be consoled when they realize just how much worse things could be — here but for the grace of God go they.

So that’s not what I actually pray, but that’s what it amounts to, if we boil it down to the meaning-beneath-the-meaning.  So now you know what I knew about me a year ago, but periodically forget.

You can read the whole thing, including my more characteristically-cranky opening, and the super story a reader shared in the combox in response, over at CatholicMom.com.

2015-10-13T14:10:19-05:00

I recently got a question about praying the Rosary that went something like this:

If you pray the Rosary all the time, doesn’t it just become this kind of robot-thing, like doing the dishes or something?

It certainly can.  I’m very bad at praying, period, so my chief danger is not that I’ll pray the Rosary (or anything) badly, but that I won’t pray it at all.  But sometimes I do manage to get my act together and behave like a Christian for a couple minutes, and in those instances, I’ve found some ways to pray the Rosary that prevent the robot-brain problem.

Trick #1: Cultivate an awareness of the presence of God.

I learned to do this from the Irish monks at Sacred Space, way back when I was a brand new revert with no children, and therefore more quiet time.  You might try using that website for a bit, or Loyola Press’s 3-minute retreat as a starting point for practicing this skill.  (Why yes, it’s a skill).

If you have the option of going to Eucharistic Adoration, praying the Rosary before the exposed Blessed Sacrament is another way to make your prayer more conversational.

Alone in silence in an empty church is good.  Alone in the woods if it’s someplace that’s safe and not buggy is good.  Alone in the quiet of your room in the evening with a few candles is good.

And then you just pray.  The exterior quiet helps you with the interior quiet, and as you pray your Rosary just let your one intentional thought be about the presence of God as you are praying.

***

I’ll be honest: Mostly lately I grab a rosary, head out for a walk, and about twenty minutes in I become aware that I’ve been talking to God all this time and wasn’t even paying attention.  It’s like thinking you’re singing alone in the shower and then suddenly you realize that you’ve got an auditorium full of spectators sitting in on your performance.

Trick #2: Put yourself into the mysteries and look around a bit.

This is basically a variation on Lectio Divina, but your scripture passage is the mystery of the Rosary you are praying.  What this means, of course, is that you have to know the mystery already.  So if it’s Monday and you’re praying about the Annunciation, you need to have read about the Annunciation in the Bible and already gotten the general gist of things into your head.

(Don’t use this as an excuse to put off praying.  You can start with that snippet passage in your little Rosary booklet, and then over the years as readings and reflections come in front of your brain, flesh it out.  It’s not like you’re only going to pray the Rosary once ever, right?)

So as you’re praying the decade on the Annunciation, visualize the scene.  Close your eyes and see Mary at home.  What’s it look like? What’s it smell like?  What’s she doing?  What kind of furniture is there?  And the angel shows up.  She’s afraid!  How does that feel, to be afraid of an angel?  And the angel tells her not to be afraid . . .

The point of this way of praying isn’t that you’re going to somehow magically visualize the exact furniture that Mary had in her house.  It’s that you’re pulling yourself into the mystery of the Incarnation — of that meeting between God and the created world.  Because you are praying, this practice of looking around inside the mystery will show you things about God’s relationship with you.

Note: You’ll have the best luck with this if you can concentrate entirely on the mystery.  So don’t try this while you’re driving or anything.  Let Heaven come to you, don’t hasten your departure towards it.

Trick #3: Bring your prayer requests into the mystery.

Often we pray on behalf of a particular person or cause — that’s intercessory prayer.  If you’re good at that, you probably don’t read articles like this, you just go pray.  But if you’re not a skilled pray-er, here’s a thing you can do.

Remember how you spent some time really pondering the different mysteries of the Rosary in trick #2?  Well, sometimes you are on a long drive and can’t shut your eyes and think about how the donkeys smelled in the cave in Bethlehem when Jesus was born.  But you can remember that when you were pondering that mystery — a different time when you could pray with your eyes closed without fear of perishing in a terrible motor vehicle accident — at that time you realized something or another about the mystery.

Let’s say, for example, that something that really grabbed your attention was the idea of Jesus coming into the lives of the Holy Family.  Let’s say that idea just stuck with you.  (You might have had a different insight.  We just need an example so we can explain how this trick works.)

So now you’re praying for your friend who has cancer.  So as you get to each mystery, take an insight from your previous ponderings over that mystery, and apply it to the situation at hand.  For example, when you get to the birth of Jesus, you might pray that your friend will experience the healing presence of Jesus.  Or that she can be Jesus to someone else.  Or that the work of God will be apparent in the hospital through the ministry of the nurses.

Whatever — let God lead you there.  The thing that you are doing with your brain is directing your prayer towards connecting your here-and-now concern with the mysteries of the Rosary.

***

So that’s what I know.  I’m not very good at praying, but when I do manage to pray well, those are some of the things I do that have helped me.  If you keep working at your praying, God will also work at it, and between the two of you (not a real secret Who’s doing the heavy lifting) you’ll experience spiritual growth despite yourself.  Well worth the effort.

Related:

  • You can enter this contest to win the print of the Hail Mary artwork from Sarah Reinhard’s new book (to which I am a contributor, so it’s like 1/somethingth my book too!).  Looks like the contest is open until the end of the month.
  • Here are Sarah’s Hail Mary hacks. She has seven, and I didn’t read them before I wrote this post, so any resemblance is because prayer isn’t exactly something new under the sun.

 

Win the Cover Art of Word by Word

 

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