CHAPTER 8
Chelsea had never considered herself that gifted in prayer. Her mom could sit for hours with her Bible and a cup of coffee and pour out her heart to God while highlighting passages of Scripture and jotting down notes in the margins. Chelsea, on the other hand, found her mind wandering when her dad said grace before the evening meal.
Even now, Chelsea realized, she was no better at praying than when she wasn’t being held hostage thirty-thousand feet above ground by an insane murderer intent on kidnapping, hijacking, and terrorism.
Her mind wanted to pray, but she couldn’t slow down the racing of her heart long enough to focus on anything. There was nothing in her soul, no pleas for protection, no comforting passages of Scripture brought to mind at just the right time.
There wa
