A Prayer That Sounded Like a Conversation
Owen shut his eyes tight and spoke in a voice that wasn’t practiced or polished.
It was the voice of a child speaking to someone he trusted completely.
“God,” Owen whispered, “this is Mister Miles. He’s really sad. He has lots of stuff, but he misses walking. People said it can’t happen, but You made people, so You can do things nobody else can.”
Owen paused, as if listening to an answer only he could hear.
“Please give him a little strength,” he continued. “Even a little. So he can stand. So he can come outside without feeling bad. And maybe someday he can kick a soccer ball with me. Amen.”
It couldn’t have lasted more than ten seconds.
Miles waited for the familiar hollow feeling afterward.
The same silence.
The same letdown.
Then something shifted.
