O God,
creator of our land, . . .
You have also pulled other continents
out of the sea.
What a wonderful world you have made
out of wet mud,
and what beautiful men and women! . . .
The grace of your creation is like a cool day
between rainy seasons. . . .
Bless us.
Bless our land and people.
Bless our forests . . .
Bless our fields . . .
Bless the waters . . .
Be with us in our countries and in all Africa,
and in the whole world.
Prepare us for the service that we should render.
In downtown Little Rock late one day, a monk saw a bag lady with her full cart staring at the sky.
She ignored his questions, continuing to study the sunset. He looked and saw the bright reds and oranges set against the deep blue sky and white clouds. It was a stunning display of color and contrast.
After a time, she patted his arm and he looked into her sparkling eyes, seeing the fresh tears on her dirty cheeks and the toothless smile.
"God," she whispered, "is just TOO good to me!"