Look at Me
I knelt in the kitchen of our tiny rental house.
Weeping, I leaned on a red ice chest where I kept milk for my children. We needed a refrigerator, but I had no hope one would come. Through poor choices, I had lost everything and alienated my family. Covered in shame and regret, I felt worthless and unlovable—and now I needed a refrigerator. I had nowhere to turn, so I prayed and cried, “Look at me, God! Help me.”