A certain pastor delights in telling the true story of a wonderful experience he once had on a clergymen’s retreat. He was assigned to a room which had just been vacated by a little girl at the conclusion of a family retreat. And, as he was settling into the room, he found a prayer which had been composed by the child during one of the family retreat exercises. Here it is, the the little girl’s own grammar:
Dear God, I have had a beautiful (b-e-e-u-t-t-y-f-u-l-l) time here. The hills are so beautiful and the lakes were ice. I was getting boring because there was not one to play with hardly. But you know best, Amen.
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