Let me tell you about Steve. His is 70+ years old; he often wreaks of nicotine. His flannel jacket with an attached sweatshirt hood is his favorite, and seemingly ONLY, garment. He has a thick (and impressive) handlebar mustache attached to his leathery, spotted skin; stained by 2 1/2 packs of Pall Malls a day. His hair is a greasy salt and pepper; mostly salt. His voice sounds exactly like the old cowboy at the bar in "The Big Libowski" mixed with cough. Steve has seen a life full of wandering the country as a nomad. Traveler + bum = nomad. His body is weary from his lifestyle.
Why am I telling you about Steve?
Because I want to paint a picture of a favorite prayer. Pray-er. One morning was a typical prayer by Steve as we opened a group session.
"Good morning Father! I probably should have talked to you about this earlier, before we got started. I have been spending time with you a lot lately and learning a lot about myself. It has been good to know you more. Thank you for loving us and being with us..."
Then I trailed off in my attention because I was thinking about how much I loved hearing Steve pray; I checked in again in time to hear him say,