Wheeling Gull Isle devil a pray

The way the little boy tucked into himself against his father was like the answer to a prayer. He slept sweetly. The three others were quiet and still too, for the first time he could remember. Caracal drew in the sort of breath that felt like it scooped out the bottom of his lungs, letting it out through his nose. He smiled tiredly. He swore he felt God’s presence in this moment, imbuing it with a sense of familial peace.

Pressing his lips delicately to baby Judah’s forehead, Caracal muttered sweet nothings under his breath for a moment. And then words came into his head, his breath warm against his son’s pulsing fontanelle as he voiced them in a quiet burr:

God grant me the serenity,
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
enjoying one moment at a time;
accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
taking, as He did, this sinful world,
as it is, not as I would have it;
trusting that He will make all things right,
if I surrender to His will;
so that I may be reasonably happy in this life,
and supremely happy with Him,
forever and ever in the next.

Amen.