My first letter to Santa described what I wanted, even though I was pretty sure my time was wasted. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in Santa. I probably didn’t deserve anything that expensive. I could only hope and pray.
On Christmas morning, when I saw my prayer answered, I was thankful I had the right address on the envelope and applied the correct three-cent stamp, just as Mom had instructed.
A year later, I was a little smarter. I wrote Santa again, but this time I knew the letter would never reach the North Pole. Mom and Dad were the real sources of my gifts.
About a year ago, a childlike idea came to mind. What would happen if I wrote a letter to God? I wouldn’t be limited to one request each December. Every day, I could tell him what I wanted, and he had the resources and power to give me everything.
I could write the letter, but would God read it? Given the fact that he knows even my thoughts (Psalm 139,2), he wasn’t going to miss my message. But would he give me what I wanted? If not, I was wasting my time.
For the first thirty minutes of every day, I wrote my letter. But I didn’t spend much time telling him what I wanted. After all, he already knew that. Most of my writing focused on learning what he wanted, which redirected my thoughts and desires to what I most needed—a stronger relationship with him.
The practice has changed my life, which explains why I never miss a day.