Howard Saylor narrated as follows: My life seemed to be spiralling through a series of catastrophes. My mother was in a nursing home, having regressed through the stages of Alzheimer’s. My younger son had suffered a devastating ankle dislocation with multiple fractures during a high-school football game. My older son was incarcerated on a drug charge, and I had made the difficult choice not to bail him out to teach him a lesson. I’d been trying earnestly to turn to God in prayer as my troubles mounted. “I don’t have to have my will done,” I prayed, “I just need to know that you hear me.” After a few silent minutes there on the swing in the darkness, I got up and went inside, embarrassed by my outburst and reasoning that I’d shown a lack of genuine faith.