Nature cries its praise to you when I often fail to do so. The green of the forest, the tenderness of the meadows and plains, the sway of the trees moving to the rhythm of your heartbeat; they all remind me of who I have often failed to be and of what I must become.

The mountains, they stand tall in unapologetic grandeur in attestation of a Maker who is, in every way, larger than life. Had I stood before the mountains and fitted myself within the scheme of all this, your creation, I would be hardly noticeable. And yet, despite my hiddenness in the picture of life, you have ordained that it was I who should have known you and recognised your revelation of grace.

My life speaks of feebleness and failure to no end, and I have no towering grandeur to exhibit. The only way I know in my life is the little way. But for me, this little way is big; in fact, sometimes it is overbearing. This little way is all I know, and very often, it is all I have. So with this little way that I can offer, I say a quiet "yes" to your bidding.

My way is not great. I have no towering mountains to shout your grandeur, no swaying trees to waive my praises into the celestial spaces, no meadow of carpets to lay for the glory of your majesty. There is only me, the little me, with my little "yes".

Even this prayer is feeble and inadequate, just like my little "yes". I can manage to say it only in a whisper and not in a firm loud voice that proclaims the worthiness of the One who calls. For as I speak this "yes", I am almost certain I shall fail. But I want to say it to you anyway.

Yes, Lord.