I shoot until the white fan spins before my eyes. I am indeed out of shape.
I have come here on a Sabbath morning to this lonely gym to loft many a prayer towards an empty net. God and I engage in another game of one on one.
I am so tired. Life has a way of wearing me down. Yet I keep shooting. Send another prayer skyward.
Whether the ball goes in or not, somehow I know my prayers are heard.