A peek into the next room in our house reveals that it’s a letter-writing room of some kind.
There’s a writing desk, with a beautiful quill pen and a bottle of golden ink. Holy Moley, it’s real gold, this ink. I think this is a room where God hears and answers prayers.
There’s a letter, lying on the desk. Shall we read God’s mail?
Nothing ever goes right for me. My dreams are all broken or lost.
I’m a victim of circumstance, and frankly, I just don’t know how I’m going to go on. The kids make me