Forty Seven Years Old

It would be nice to write long writings, but I guess it is not meant to be.

I am a forty-seven-year-old, divorced for twelve years. He had the children for twenty-three months. I have had them for minus twenty-three months of their lives, and they are already twenty-five, twenty-three, and twenty-one, with six grandchildren: one in heaven, four living here, and one with the other grandmother. Richard is sixty-five; he has cerebral palsy and is very frail. We have been friends for nine years.

Help, Lord, I need to know what’s up because time is passing by too fast and the world is out of control. Bring down the Holy Spirit. Ignite the light of You in the depths of everyone’s soul. Oh Jesus, how am I going to do this, finish this off by myself? I need a helpmate. No, Lord, I do not need an outsider. I can do it, with You and me and Richard as a third party; it is verified. He believes in all our writings, Lord. December 1, 2007, Wendy Yvette Greenwell.