I was a sickly little kid through much of my time at Park Elementary School in Wichita, KS – especially the first grade -- so much so that my parents and I had to live within a couple of blocks, at most, of the school so it would be easy for my parents to walk me to class. (Dad worked and mom never learned to drive.) In fact, on a couple of occasions, including the time covered in this story, we literally lived next door to the school. I was not deathly ill with some life-threatening disease. It’s just that, for reasons too complicated to tell, my immune system was so weak that, if there were a single virus particle anywhere inside, say, the orbit of Neptune, I was sure to catch it. Like any kid, I wanted to play outside, but most of the time, I just didn’t have the energy. My mother consu
The news stories of the last few weeks have broken my heart. Seeing the pictures of wild fires, immigrant children, Palestine, Iraq, and the Ukraine simply overwhelms me with sadness and despair. I think how can one human being do these things to another human being, especially children. I keep asking myself when will this come to an end? I know it seems as if prayer doesn’t makes a difference and so it feels like a waste of time to offer your prayers. But heartfelt prayer often leads us into action and that is prayer indeed.
You see when many people offer prayers they, we, form a community of prayer and as a community we can do much. We can write letters, become involved in interfaith and cross cultural groups standing with those who are victims, or we can help with suppor