On a lofty evening at the pediatric clinic, every now and then little cherubs made a grand entrance, as if in a pageant. Their innocent smiles and looks of admiration from parents added to the happiness. My little son of seven months never got tired of flashing a glee that perfectly entertained even those tight-mustached men. My eyes were met with smiles all around, including from complete strangers. Yet behind the smile I posed with the little one sitting on my lap, nobody knew what it was like when I stepped into the same clinic a few years back with my daughter.
I still remember what I had earnestly prayed for on our wedding day and that was for children, the grace to raise them in holiness and to make them into great saints! Our happiness knew no bounds when we discovered that I was pregnant. I soon felt a strange notion that something was wrong. My worst nightmare happened at around 27 weeks of pregnancy, when baby’s movement was not felt. We immediately went to the hospital and found that her heart beat was dropping. An emergency, impromptu cesarean section was done and our premature baby, now on a ventilator, battled for life. I had to see my tiny little one strapped on all fours with cannulas and put through many needles to inject medicines or draw blood every hour. When she cried in pain, my heart wrenched but I trusted in God. I knew that nothing happens without His knowledge and my tiny one was safe in His heart. A miracle happened when, after 45 days in NICU, we finally had our baby in our arms; I thought life would be peaceful again.
Day by day she gradually grew stronger. When our daughter was about three months old, the doctors diagnosed her with microcephaly—a condition of small headedness that is caused by brain injury.
As the reports came we understood that our daughter was suffering from severe brain damage which led to cerebral palsy and intellectual disability. It was after the delivery when we came to know about the congenital problem with my uterus—it was bicornuate (heart shaped). In the doctor’s words, “The uterus is compartmentalized into two sections—there was no space for the baby to grow and that led to the emergency.” Worst of all, “Your future babies will have to be operated out at around seven months of pregnancy and put in the NICU …”
My anguish at knowing that all the time the baby in my womb was struggling and, much worse, that my defect put our baby through such an ordeal was shuddering. It was the darkest period of my life, and I began to blame myself for her condition.
My heart broke every time I saw her having strange epilepsy convulsions. In those days it was not easy to wait at the pediatric clinic, where little toddlers were prancing around in bliss, while the little girl sprawled on my lap stared blankly at the walls—she would not look or smile at me. Those happy parents stared at my little girl, some even probing around with curious questions. I grew weary of waiting for my turn and it was a relief to go home.
Until then I thought I would never have to confess to being jealous. Now, seeing a little bird hopping around, loomed my mind: even this little bird with so small a brain can hop and fly but my baby cannot do anything.
With time God’s grace allowed me to appreciate His creation, to thank Him always for the perfection I saw around and to not grudge over what lacked in my child.
By this time I had conceived three times but miscarried each. I was also diagnosed with PCOD, which meant it would not be easy for me to conceive a baby again. I began to hate my body and myself. This is my fault. If only I was born with a normal uterus, I could have had a normal pregnancy and normal, healthy children.
My heart longed for the impossible. A little Rosary book in my hand had the picture of Blessed Virgin Mary with the child Jesus gazing at her lovingly and the Holy mother intently looking back at her Son with an unfathomable love. To Jesus I never complained but to His mother I poured out my heart. I even took the freedom to say to her, “You had baby Jesus who looked back at you, smiled and did all that a normal baby could. Mother, how would you be able to understand my plight?’
Behold, the LORD’s hand is not shortened, that it cannot save, or his ear dull, that it cannot hear. – Isaiah 59:1
Many suggested praying for a miracle, by placing a prayer card or a rosary in my hand. All I could was cry in His presence. If I said the rosary aloud it turned out into a long wail. I never complained to God but surrendered everything to Him. This was not easy because most often I felt wearied. Whenever I prayed for a miraculous healing, I felt sad—not because my faith was ebbing but because of the thought that I was asking God to correct His gift. Our daughter was indeed the most precious gift from God.
I did not know what to pray for then. Sitting in His presence, I gazed at Jesus exposed in the Holy Eucharist. Did He really know what I was going through? Could you really see me here Jesus?
Once a friend of mine told me reassuringly, “Our God is not seated on His throne somewhere up in Heaven and by chance looks down to see you and exclaim, ‘Oh! I did not know this would happen to you!’ No! God’s eyes are always on you. He does not make mistakes or miscalculations. Everything is known to Him.” These words really helped me to TRUST in His mercy and goodness even though my life was going astray, like a ship tossed in a great storm. I knew that Jesus was sleeping peacefully in the boat and I did not want to wake him.
In my dream Jesus deigned to see my anguish. On an August day in 2017, we and our little girl attended a one-day retreat at the Marian Retreat Centre, led by Father Dominic Valanmanal, a really gifted priest. Fully accepting my condition and the sickness of our daughter I prayed to Jesus “If it is Your will, please heal my daughter. But if it is not Your will I accept her whole heartedly, with only a plea for a healthy baby …” I knew this was impossible given my condition. Yet I believed nothing was impossible for God.
Just one month later we came to know about the pregnancy of our fifth baby. I understood that the fount of life and unfathomable divine mercy of God enveloped our life that day at the retreat. Strangely, I felt much more serene, without a trace of fear in my heart.
Jesus had swept away all my fears like a cloud. An ultrasound scan was done and by God’s grace the baby was doing well. To our utter surprise, they could not find a bicornuate uterus or poly cystic ovaries. The doctors were more surprised than me; they could not even find a slight bend in my uterus!
By the mercy of God, I carried our baby for 39 weeks! God blessed us with a healthy baby boy, thriving in His love and mercy! After the caesarean, the first thing I asked the doctor about was my uterus. She said my uterus was normal and had only a single whole cavity (she even put her hand on it to check thoroughly). God blessed us with a healthy baby and gave us hope to have many more healthy babies. He cured me completely. This is impossible for man. There is no operation that could change my condition or the one-percent chance that my uterus would change by itself. For God, everything is possible!
My baby now looks at me and smiles. He never gets tired of looking for me. My baby wants to SEE me always. This thought crossed my mind: just like my little one, God was always watching. He sees us even in our bad times. When plunged into waves of despair in life, we may not feel God watching over us. We may wonder if there is a God looking down from heaven. It is true, He is there!
Today, as I sit at the pediatric clinic pleasantly amused by my little one’s antics, no one knows about my angel at home who is four years old and still unable to sit or stand by herself. I do not know if she will ever call me “Mamma” or play with me as any child would. In her own ways she expresses a love that is untainted by worldliness. Our little boy’s smile brings happiness to our lives, but it is our daughter’s smile that sparks a greater joy in our hearts.
Jesus calmed all my fears and made everything new! He can do it for you as well! Surrender everything unto Him for He cares for you. No matter what the situation in your life is, God knows it and His eyes are on you! Just trust in His mercy. For the path to peace is not found in summit meetings, stockpiling arms or in acquiring more material goods; it is only found by trusting in God’s mercy for our lives.
Lord Jesus, we offer ourselves to you—all our anxieties, fears and our nothingness. We trust in your divine mercy that overflows from Your merciful heart. Immerse us in Your ocean of mercy, O Jesus, so our lives may become new and strengthened by Your grace as we face the storms of life valiantly and reach the eternal shore of our Fatherland. Amen.
© serves on the Editorial Board of Shalom Tidings. She resides with her family in Kerala, India.
During a silent retreat a number of years ago, as I was quietly kneeling before my Eucharistic Lord in adoration I was overwhelmed with the desire to pour out my heart and soul to Jesus. I began to silently weep. As the tears began to flow, I started writing these words from the depths of my heart: Lord, deliver me from the depths of my own personal hell. Deliver me from the darkness within my soul. Deliver me from the bondage of the snares and traps of the devil. Deliver me, Lord, from the fear deep within that keeps me from loving You fully. Deliver me from my sinful pride that encompasses my being. Deliver me, Lord, from my self- reliance that keeps me in bondage to self. Deliver me from my guilt and shame that keeps me from being still and know that you are God. Deliver me from the self-hatred that keeps me from embracing my King’s love, mercy and forgiveness. Deliver me Lord from the inclinations toward sin. Help me Lord to allow you to be God And I to be your child. After pouring out my heart to my Eucharistic Lord Jesus Christ, He gently began to speak in my heart these most tender and healing words: “My child, I have come to set you free from all your bondages. I enter into the garden of your heart. I root out the sin of pride. It is rooted up and tossed into the sea. I cast out all your fear with My perfect love. I shower you with My ocean of mercy and love which is never-ending. I clothe you with purity. I clothe you in the white garment of salvation. I call to you my precious child. Come and allow Me to hold you and wash you clean. I toss your stony, sinful heart into the depths of hell. I give you a new heart. I place my heart in your heart. You are my child. I make you whole. Enter into the kingdom the Father has prepared for you. You are washed clean. You are as white as the fresh, fallen snow. You are washed clean by the blood of the Lamb. You are my beloved child. You are My light for the world to see. Walk in My light and bring others to me so I can set them free.” “I will sprinkle clean water upon you to cleanse you from all your impurities and from all your idols. I will cleanse you. I will give you a new heart and place a new spirit within you, taking from your body your stony heart and giving you a heart of flesh." (Ezekiel: 36: 25-26) May these words bring you comfort and peace. No matter what you are going through at this moment in your life, there is hope and healing. Allow Jesus to enter into the mess of your life. He is the healer of your heart. Jesus is waiting for you.
The sound of yelling, accusations and cursing brings to my mind a lot about suffering. It is a well-known fact that trauma imprints itself vividly onto the brain, and I am no exception. I often cringe when hearing someone pop open an aluminum can. It is a grim reminder of my alcoholic husband and what transpired after that first drink. Mostly, my life was full of traumatizing experiences many times. There was no blood or visible damage to my body when I was being verbally abused. Those hurtful feelings turned into intellectual torture; it is really difficult to put into words the pain I experienced on a daily basis. A few months ago, I received the flyer for a Shalom retreat and I simply registered. It was a time of great suffering and little did I know that the retreat would forever change my life. During the three-day retreat we were given the living word of God by Father Jilto George CMI, Father Wills Combs, BBD, and Sister Ranis Matthew MSMI—all were proclaiming the word from the Old and New Testaments, the Psalms and the Gospel. The word of God was sung in hymns. The ample opportunity to make a good confession and to hear the Word of God opened my eyes to the truth that God was always by my side, no matter how traumatizing my life was. I felt an amazing connection with God, especially with the Holy Spirit. Praise the Lord for all the gifts of the Holy Spirit that God so generously bestowed on me. I am truly grateful for the praise and worship we had at the Shalom retreat. The abundance of blessings was so great when we reached the third day. God deigned to give me a whole new perspective about my burdens. I felt the Holy Spirit lift off those heavy burdens from my arms. During the healing time I was cleansed from my disbelief and my heavy heartaches became lighter. The movement of the Holy Spirit strengthened my faith and helped me realize that God never abandons us. The gift of God’s presence and His warmth gave me much clarity in my belief. With a feeling of assurance and protection I felt the Holy Spirit rain down on me. I could not stop crying as the Holy Spirit filled my soul with goodness. God took away my shame, pain and guilt. He made my whole being new! I received immense grace through this retreat but never expected a surprise when I went back home. On the second day of the retreat God’s amazing grace did a miracle for my alcoholic husband who was at home. On that day I was in deep prayer, offering my husband to the merciful hands of God. When I had returned home, he narrated about his experience. That Saturday, while I was praying for him, he had a moment of deep prayer for his back pain. The next day his back pain had healed completely. I shared with him that at that same moment, when he was asking for healing, I was praying to God to heal him and to draw us closer to God. My husband did not seem to believe that my prayer intercession partly had led to his healing. I know now that this unbelief was due to his disease. God had granted me patience and acceptance. My prayers continued ever more for him and I believed that the power of prayer could break his bondage from alcohol addiction. Until then I had grieved over the emotional hurt my husband hurled at me and it broke my heart over and over again. Pain is a very real thing to the person experiencing it. Those who have not felt a similar level of pain have trouble empathizing. Even though my emotional hurt came through heartbreaking experiences, it has helped me understand my and others’ sufferings in a way I previously could not have imagined. Despite the enormity of my husband’s addiction, I was aware that my experience seemed somewhat minor when compared to some of the pains others suffered. The experience I had at the Shalom retreat heightened my empathy for those who suffer more than me and this proved as a turning point. I am hopeful that my testimony will not only strengthen my healing, but also give insight for others who have similar aching life experiences. Aside from having an alcoholic husband, my life has been blessed. Though I still feel a mild sense of panic when he drinks, I am very grateful for the love and support of my children who have literally been there for every step. It is unclear how long it will be until I am able to re-train my brain and overcome the mental issues associated with an alcoholic husband. Hopefully, I will soon regain a more normal life with the help of the Holy Spirit. I have already begun to see my life through a different lens—a lens of forgiveness and hope. The Shalom retreat brought me closer to our Blessed Mother and to Jesus. I have accepted my faults and regained control of my emotions through prayer, which is indeed our lifeline to God. Thanks be to God!
Susan paced the hospital corridor with her infant daughter crying in her arms. Fear gripped her and she was struggling to put one foot in front of the other. As she waited with unabated breath, at the paediatric clinic, for Eve their two-year-old daughter, Susan could not withhold her anxiety. The moment of truth lay in a blood test result kept inside her daughter’s medical file just inches away from where she was standing. She and her husband Joe were already dealing with the devastating news of Eve’s leukaemia and the knowledge that she needed a bone marrow transplant. They had been told that matching donors and patients is much more complex than matching blood types and that it might take time to find the perfect match. Both Joe and Susan had volunteered as donors, and they were waiting for the results at their scheduled appointment. Not at all! The consultant’s door opens, and Dr Grainne sees Susan and invites them to come forward. Susan shakes a little more, and her husband puts his arm around her waist to support her. The doctor speaks in a soft tone and asks how Eve has been since their last visit. She picks up on Susan’s anxiety and is gentle in her approach towards her. She speaks to Susan first and tells her that further tests will be needed to ascertain if she is the close to a perfect match. Dr Grainne then addresses Joe, and she tells him that he is not a match at all. He hears the words ‘not at all’, and he questionably repeats them. “Not at all! How is that? I am her father!” The doctor retains a calm and steady voice, and she tells him that he has a different blood type to Eve. Searing Pain Three months later the incomprehensible words are still resounding in his ears. The reality of him not being Eve’s father sends volts of shock through him. The news has not changed his love for his baby girl with whom he fell in love the moment she was born. Susan had taken a gamble that Eve might be his child and figured that if she was, then she was taking the risk of telling her husband about a brief affair with a work colleague for no reason. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him” her friend had advised, and she thought it was a phrase worth applying to this situation. Science had proven differently, though, and the results had taken an overwhelming toll on their marriage. Joe was incredibly angry and had moved out of the family home. He continued to attend the hospital appointments, and at Susan’s invitation, for his input into decisions about Eve’s care. Eve’s biological father relinquished all responsibility, and he refused to go for donor testing. He had a family of his own, and he did not want his life wrecked by this scandal. Food for Spiritual Thought Three years later, Joe was attending the twenty-fifth Medjugorje Anniversary Conference at the RDS in Dublin. And I was also actively involved in the conference. He still has not come to terms with Susan’s affair and deceit, and he is far from forgiving her. The conference committee has organised a captivating line-up of speakers from America and Bosnia-Herzegovina for the weekend event. Their stories of spiritual healing, physical miracles and conversions are a testimony to the power of prayer and God’s infinite, loving and tender mercy for the incurable, depraved, and lost souls. “One could be forgiven for thinking that nothing could be done with him”, Joe said, referring to Father Donald Calloway’s ( from the Congregation of Marian Fathers of the Immaculate Conception of the Most Blessed Virgin Mary) story about his raucous, rebellious and juvenile delinquent years. “Does it give you hope, Joe that maybe one day it will be possible to forgive Susan and to reconcile and return to your family home?”, I asked. “It is certainly food for spiritual thought”, he replied. Never Stop Believing In the afternoon session, Colleen Willard from Chicago told the story of how she was miraculously healed in Medjugorje from thirteen complicated medical conditions including an incurable brain tumour and a ruptured disc that confined Colleen to a wheelchair. “How are you doing, Joe?”, I enquired when I caught up with him before the evening prayer programme began. “Wow”, he said, “I am beginning to believe that everything is possible through prayer and with God.” I encouraged Joe to never stop believing that God could heal the brokenness of his marriage and his heart. “You know Jesus was betrayed too, and He knows the pain of that,” I said. Joe loved his wife and was very close to Eve, and she called him “Daddy” which constantly evoked tears of pain, pity and more often of joy. The Journey from Pain Eve had received a bone marrow transplant and was in remission. Joe could not contemplate the idea of not having Eve in his life, and the word remission was one he ignored. Susan had invited him to adopt Eve officially, and he was pondering on the idea. He was hindered, though by his inability to forgive her. Susan had deeply suffered the consequences of her reckless actions, and her family had erupted into war with her. She was struggling with their coldness toward her, and she felt alone and isolated. She knew she had caused all this pain to herself and everyone else around her. She asked them for their forgiveness and had asked Joe many times also for his. To the Shores of Peace Our last speaker at the conference was Goran Curkovi from Medjugorje, and he was scheduled to speak on Sunday. His inspiring story of recovery from heroin addiction, homelessness, paranoid schizophrenia and self-harming over many years evoked tumultuous tears and roars of laughter from the attendees. Joe had heard more than enough to convince him that God existed and was the maker of miracles. Joe did not leave the RDS without going to confession. He shared his story with many tears of anger and disappointment. He held close to his heart the advice his confessor told him, and it ran along the lines of; forgiveness will bring healing, peace and love. Bitterness and anger will culminate in more chaos and emotional self-destruction of yourselves and your daughter. It was time for Joe to make his mind up. Many years have passed by and Eve is now fourteen-years-old. Joe officially became Eve’s ‘Daddy’. Susan and Joe reconciled. They are now a very active faithful couple and a silent witness to their journey of forgiveness. Prayer Lord, help me to forgive the person who has caused me this pain, anguish and hurt. Give me the strength to say the words that I least want to pass my lips. I bless (name) in your name O Lord. Amen
I f I were to confide—even to my closest friend—that I heard a voice that guided me, consoled or chastised me, there is no doubt I would receive a raised eyebrow or two. Today’s world looks strangely at people who admit they hear a voice now and then. Yet the Lord says in the book of Jeremiah (7:23) “Thus says the LORD: This is what I commanded my people: Listen to my voice; then I will be your God and you shall be my people. Walk in all the ways that I command you, so that you may prosper.” Psalm 95:7-8 reminds us: “Oh, that today you would hear His voice do not harden your hearts ...” Jesus tells us He is the Good Shepherd and in the gospel of John (10:27), He says, “My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow Me. I give them eternal life and they will never perish.” God talks to us. He tells us He talks to us and we should listen. As Christians walking through this worldly life, why do we find it uncomfortable to think of the possibility of a real encounter with hearing our Lord’s voice? How do we know if we are hearing the voice of God? How can we recognize the Good Shepherd talking to us? I believe God reaches out to us in ways we can relate to. I also believe there are many stories of how people today hear Him and recognize His voice. One particular story took place on a Friday in June 2007. In Sacramento County, California, the temperature outside had risen higher than 102 degrees. It was a very clear, sunny day with no clouds to filter the blazing hot sun. Friday was my day for the big, weekly grocery shopping trip. It was a long-standing tradition (regardless of what happened during the week) that our family would gather on Friday evening, have a bowl of popcorn and watch a movie together. The highlight, however, was topping it off with a bowl of ice cream. We rarely had ice cream on other days of the week so my family eagerly looked forward to the creamy treat. This Friday night would be no different, especially as the hot weather would make the ice cream even more appreciated. I intended to get to the store, shop quickly and hurry home, before the intense heat could build in my car and cause perishable groceries to thaw or become warm during the ride home. Good intentions verses actual occurrences often make for very interesting stories. Testing Times We had a teenage son at the time and, as most parents of teenagers would agree, it can be challenging to convince a teenager that you have his or her best interests at heart. We know through experience that prohibiting them from going places or doing things that are potentially harmful for them can be testing. This was also the case with our son. That Thursday evening things had not gone as well as we had hoped. We did not see eye-to-eye on a few subjects concerning his well-being; after a lengthy discussion it became apparent that we had to exercise good parental judgement on his behalf. To put it mildly, he adamantly objected. The next morning he went off to school in a teenage huff and I headed out, with a heavy heart, to do our weekly grocery shopping. This was the first opportunity I had to be alone with my thoughts and, more importantly, alone with God. As I drove to the store I began telling God about my motherly frustrations and feelings of parental inadequacies in reaching our son. The closer I came to the store, the deeper the conversation. In a prayerful haze, I entering the grocery store, ticked items off my list and loaded my cart. With each aisle, the cart and my prayers became heavier. In retrospect, it was mostly a one-sided conversation. I wanted God to listen to my venting; I had not really given God a chance to answer anything that weighed heavily on my heart. Resounding Command My list was almost complete when I heard a quiet but direct voice say to me, “Come see Me.” I stopped. I literally stopped in the middle of the aisle to process what I thought I just heard. I must have been mistaken. I have to admit I was a little shaken and my prayer changed to asking God to protect me. I looked around a little bit, gathered my thoughts and slowly proceeded to the frozen food section. Here I would select the most important item on the list, ice cream. Again, I heard “Come see Me.” The voice was gentle, calm and encouraging. Somehow I knew it was God asking me to come and see Him. I was confused. How could I go and see Him? When and where could I go to see Him? I didn’t understand! Almost as soon as I asked the questions I had the answer. I heard a third time: “Come see Me.” The final time had a more defined, authoritative tone. Our church is blessed to have an Adoration Chapel where the Blessed Sacrament waits for anyone who wishes to visit our Lord. I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was where He wanted me to come see Him. I also knew He wanted me to come right away. But wait! My spiritual world and my worldly world were about to collide. I had a cart full of groceries. I had perishable items. I had frozen items. I had ice cream! “Lord, it is 102 degrees outside! If I come to see you now, my groceries are going to be ruined in the hot car. Moreover, do you realize what you are asking of me? I am never going to hear the end of this if I come home with inedible melted ice cream! I already have many strikes against me after last night. Ice cream is all I have right now to ease the tension with our son.” Then I began to prayerfully barter with the voice. “Ok. I will come and see you after I go home and unload the groceries. Then I will head over to the Adoration Chapel.” Nothing; I heard absolutely nothing. However, I knew I had heard my shepherd’s voice and realized that He wanted me to obey Him. He wanted me to trust Him. Upon completion of my shopping I put my cartload of groceries into the car that was easily well above 120 degrees. In obedience, I pointed my car in the direction of the Adoration Chapel. Resigned to the fact that obedience to His voice was far more important than my groceries, I planned to humbly explain to my family what had happened and take any consequences. During the 20 to 30 minutes I spent with my Lord, He guided me and reassured me regarding the events with our son. My spirit was at peace and I knew that everything would work out. I thanked the Lord and walked out to my very hot car, where I faced the reality that most of the groceries would probably have to be thrown out once I arrived home. The Melt Down It took at least another 10 minutes before I opened my garage door. With a sigh, my reaction was to first reach for the bag that contained the melted ice cream. I pulled the carton from the bag and my whole body began to tingle. Wait, what? I could not believe what my hands had felt. It wasn’t melted! It was not the least bit thawed. In fact, it was rock solid! It was more frozen than when I pulled it out of the store freezer. How could this be? I pulled more bags toward me and began frantically digging into the bags that contained meats, cheeses, milk and frozen vegetables. They were cold and frozen. No sign whatsoever of thawing or distress from the heat. I had shopped in hot weather before; I knew how quickly things melted in heat like this. Then, it hit me. I began to cry. Tears streamed down my face. I dropped to my knees right there on the garage floor and praised my God. “Thank you, Lord, I am such a fool!” I thought, “He loves me. He loves me so much. He took care of me. He took care of my groceries. How could I have been so worried about this or anything? Did I not know who I was talking to—the great I AM, the Creator of the Universe, the Good Shepherd! Of course, if He could keep me from perishing for all eternity, He could certainly keep my groceries from perishing in an hour. No doubt about it!” I have reflected on this story many times over the years and realized there are still many lessons to learn from it. It was through trust and obedience to His voice that He confirmed the voice I heard was His. I needed to trust Him in order for Him to reveal Himself to me, and when He revealed Himself to me I trusted Him even more. The intricacies and intimacies of that circle of trusting and revelation continue to grow as my faith continues to grow. I have shared this story from time to time and occasionally I still get a raised eyebrow or two. However, by continuing to share my experience I am confident that others have similar stories. I pray it becomes the norm for Christians to comfortably share how God’s voice speaks to them in their lives. Jesus says, “My sheep hear My voice; I know them, and they follow Me. I give them eternal life and they will never perish.” I want that! So, I am listening, Lord. My God I acknowledge You as my true shepherd. Today I surrender myself, all my problems and anxieties, into your hands. Help me to trust You, o Lord, with all my heart and to not lean on my own understanding. When I am confused let me hear Your voice saying, ‘This is the way, walk in it.’ Amen.
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