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Prayer for the future

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Dear Father, who transcends time and place-- My hope is in You. I will not fear, regardless of what the world says and does. I will not judge, regardless of the way people treat me. My hope is in You. I will not worry, regardless of the uncontrollable situations around me. I will not pout, regardless of disappointed dreams. My hope is in You. I will not complain, because You give me more than I deserve. I will not lose heart, because You give me courage. I will not give up, because You give strength for every circumstance. My hope is in You. You, alone, wipe away the past. You, alone, are my present joy. You, alone, give me a future. My hope is in You. I will trust Your plans because Your will is central to my life. I will trust Your will because You are good. I will look forward and not backward. I will set my affection on heaven, not earth. Then I will have hope. You did not make me for this present world. You made me for Yours. So give me hope for that future

Paraphrasing Psalm 8 into a prayer

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Oh, Lord, my maker, you are incredible! May your name be recognized and revered throughout the earth! When I think about the sky and the earth, the whole of your detailed creation, with planets in their synchronized orbits and animal kingdom living in perfect harmony-- who am I that you even care what I think or what I fear? You have taken the time to create me with exquisite detail, fashioning my form and face, my personality and my gifts, all so that I can bring glory to you by knowing you and reflecting your image? Who am I, that you grant me free will to worship you or to worship myself, made in your image? Who am I to be loved by you? In all the earth, you are the most incredible! Amen.

I'm sick and I'd like to get well, ASAP

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Dear Lord, What is your plan here? You want me to learn humility, patience, endurance? I get it. I do. I just feel lousy. My head's exploding, my sinuses are swollen, my nose is red and crispy. I'm a real beauty queen. I walk around with my mouth hanging open so I can breathe, and I haven't slept soundly in days (for fear of suffocation). And--I'm working here. At least I'm trying. I'm hobnobbing with professional writers, asking for critiques, making contacts, self-advocating, trying to be the best version of me--either the fun me or the professional me--I'd take either one today. Instead, I'm allergy me. Stuffy, aching, swollen, tired, throbbing me. I'm a Ny-Quil commercial. And I'm not happy about it. (After all, isn't my life about  me ?) Oh, I get it. No, this is not about me, even though it feels like it should be. It's about YOU. It's always about You, whether I realize it or not. You're just reminding me,