Lord knows I’ve tried.  Well, maybe not as much as I would like him to think.  But I have tried.  I’m great at flash prayers, like “help me” and “thank you.”  I do them daily.  But the sit-down-with-the-Master-and-have-a-nice-conversation prayers, not so good at.

I have prayed for people in my family, starting with my wife, followed by my children (oldest first), then their spouses and my grandchildren, moving through the branches of the family tree.  Didn’t get very far. So I would go over the events of the previous day (in reverse order) and give thanks for (or petition for) the characters or events I had encountered.  Got sleepy.

Praying at bedtime, however, is not so bad.  Then when you get sleepy, which is soon, you’re right where you need to be.  It doesn’t work so well if you’re kneeling by your bed (tried that a few times too).  But it beats counting sheep.

I even attempted to use the Lord’s Prayer (Matthew 6:9-13) as a rough outline for inserting my own experiences in daily life.  Nada.

I feel bad.  I really, really believe in God.  And when things go wrong, I can pray like there’s no tomorrow.  But I was taught that a daily dialogue with the Almighty is essential to my Christian development.  Was I taught wrong?

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While standing as a prisoner before Pontius Pilate, Jesus explained to the Roman procurator that he came to earth in order to testify to the truth, that everyone on the side of truth would listen to him. (John 18:38)

Pilate responded with:

“What is truth?”

If Jesus had answered that question, we have no record of it.  But maybe he didn’t need to answer it. Truth is truth.  So why do we have so much trouble with it?

Listen to any sound bite, talk show comment or politician, and you can easily see that the whole truth doesn’t always surface.  Sir Winston Churchill said, “Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing ever happened.”

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It’s finally here.  After 43+ years of “workin’ for the man,” I am now my own man.  No more rushing to work, dragging back to the house, then squeezing food and sleep in between before it starts over again. Now I enjoy walking in the park every day with my wife and dogs, getting free coffee and doughnuts with the other old folks on senior day at Kroger, waiting for my car to be fixed rather than leaving it, and being able to hop in the car whenever my wife says, “Let’s go to …” — any time of the day.

And, thank God, I have lived 59 days of it so far.

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