Today, I invite you to play a game— because living is a game, and life is a playground. Now, use your imagination— or better yet, your childlike realism. Take your phone and place it softly by your ear. Press the key: G‑O‑D —or whatever name feels true to you. The phone rings. There is a pause. Suspense rises. Your breath waits. And then…The voice on the other end says, “Well, good morning. How are you? What a blessing it is to see this call from you.” And here’s the rule of the game: you do not speak. You don’t explain. You don’t ask. You don’t defend. You don’t plead. You simply listen. And in that listening, you begin to feel something soften. The urgency dissolves. The questions quiet themselves. Because before you could ever speak, the voice continues: “I know what’s on your heart. I know what you’re worried about. I know what you’re hoping for. And I know what you’ve already survived.” There is no rush in the voice. No judgment. No expectation. Only presence. And then, gently, almost playfully, the voice says: “Relax. This isn’t a test. You’re not late. You’re not behind. You haven’t missed anything.” A pause. “I answered to remind you— you’re already connected.” And suddenly you realize something beautiful: The line was never busy. The call was never missed. You were always on hold only with your own fear. The voice smiles through the silence: “Go play. Go create. Go live. I’ll stay on the line.” And the call doesn’t end— because it never does. You simply lower the phone, place your hand on your heart, and step back into the playground of life— knowing you are heard, held, and deeply loved.