John punches in the numbers on the phone. He's calling a cousin -- not only dialing himself but pretty much handling the conversation.
"Blake -- This is John Rust. Maybe I can come over to your house, or we could go to the beach. No, not today. Maybe this summer."
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At dinner lately, we've been praying for a few people. Emma is one of them. Tonight John led the prayer:
Thank you God, for good things, for all you do.
And for good food.
I love what you do.
Thank you for the buildings, and the telephone wires, and the choirs.
Thank you for the parking lots, and astronauts, and the car.
Help me to be a good boy.
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