Dear God, as you grind away my imperfections, I feel the loss of removal, weary from the work and depleted.
Yet now is when you most love me – when I am vulnerable, weakened, needy. Now is when you shower me with the most consequential gifts: of aid in my desperation.
My strength is false, for it has limitations. Let me accept the power you offer. Let me willingly shed my selfish aims and make the doing of your will my central concern.