Dear Sweet Baby Jesus,

As You know, I have been rolling around in my 1998 Ford Focus for a few decades now. Not to complain, but it’s running on three cylinders and blowing exhaust into the passenger compartment area.  

Since I’ve been kinda good since my prison release two years ago, I think I’ve earned a Camaro. I’m praying for a new one, preferably red, but beggars can’t be choosers, so I’d take blue. 

Speaking of prison, Lord, can You help me beat that embezzlement wrap?  It was just a few thousand from the register. I used it for a good cause, paying off my bar tabs. Besides, Walmart is a giant corporation and can afford to share a little.  

I think that if You would allow me to hit the lottery, then a lot of these issues would take care of themselves and I wouldn’t need to bother You. I’m not talkin’ ‘bout no mega millions or billion dollar Power Ball. Just a mil or two to get me to the finish line.  

Now for the meat and potatoes. My ex.  Good lordy, Lord, can you ‘handle’ that?  You know how she is. I ain’t sayin take her out. Although a random bear attack would be justice. If You could just strike her dumb or something, that would go quite the distance for repairing my stress.  

Well, God, that’s about it. I didn’t insult You with wild requests like ending war or world hunger that would change Your grand design. I kept it real simple and asked for minor stuff that would barely put You out, 'cause I’m considerate. 

Okay, I’ll let You go. Got an appointment with my parole officer. She gets cranky if I’m late. Can’t wait to get behind the wheel of that new Camaro.  

Amen