This morning, our office staff met for prayer. As I have often done since childhood, I folded my hands and bowed my head.
Just as I was closing my eyes, I noticed something. The woman next to me rested her hands on her knees, palms up. Open. As if she was ready and waiting to receive something.
My hands were clenched, like I was holding on to something I refused to let go. What was I holding on to? My plans? My expectations? My agenda for the day? My rights?
Could I, like her, open my hands before God, ready to receive whatever He has for me?