My best guess is my book will be available at end of next month (May).

Withered Leg and Childlike Faith
When one of my sons was younger, he was in Awana, a great children’s discipleship program. I helped him with his weekly exercises, and one week his assignment was to pray for someone in his house, a grandparent, and a parent. So he picked our dog, his grandfather, and me.
Here’s what he prayed:
“Dear God, I hope our dog will get his eyes better, so he can see again and not be blind. God, I hope Grandpa’s polio leg will get better and be normal again. [His grandpa had polio in the 1940s.] Dear God, I hope Daddy’s left ear will work again, and he won’t be deaf in it anymore.” I had mumps at age seven and lost the hearing in my left ear.
I listened to my son’s prayer, and when he prayed, it was clear his God could do anything—absolutely anything; not even the sky was the limit. Beyond imagination is what his God could do, and so I thought, Wait a minute—I need to talk to him. He hasn’t been around the block like I have. He isn’t praying for stuff that might happen. I don’t want him to be disappointed.
Although his God could do anything, my God was in a box that I constructed, based on what I thought God could do. I thought God could do whatever was inside the box, but whatever was outside the box was beyond God’s reach.
Speaking of how to manage expectations, here’s a scene from my two boys’ younger days: Alex was about ten years old, and Spencer was about eight. I was late in driving us to church, and to compound the problem, I was teaching that morning and just couldn’t be late. I drove as aggressively as I could, but I had to stop at seemingly every red light.
I began praying out loud, something like this: “Dear heavenly Father, I am your servant, and I thank you for the many blessings you have granted us. But forgive me, Lord God, if I ask for one more blessing. Can you please give me some green lights? Not all the time, just when I’m trying to get to church and especially when I am teaching. Please, Lord, give me green lights.”
Unexpectedly, Spencer offered a theological problem-solving method. He said, “Dad, just ask for red lights, and God will give you green lights. That’s how it works.”
Could reverse psychology work on God? Not a chance.
Then Alex said in soft deadpan, “Why don’t you just adjust your alarm clock, so you get up earlier?” Always the practical one.
By the way, on the rest of the way to church, I got a mix of reds, greens, and yellows.