I asked, I begged, I pleaded, I wept, I mourned, I apologized, I fasted, I hoped. What would it mean if my prayers were answered? What would it mean if I was used to answer them?
I'm terrified and excited by the thought. I asked God to move, but the weight of his movement leaves me feeling weak in the knees both at my lowly status and at God's love. Plainly put, I'm scared of the path in front of me. It could be the end of my hoping, a prolonged exercise in patience, or something different entirely.