Ohio COVID-19 Journal Day 8

Feeling a little more somber today. Heard from another friend of mine, a doctor. She read yesterday’s blog post but stopped when she got to the part about the joys of working from home. She admitted it was because she felt a little jealous.

This news gave me pause. I felt sheepish, ashamed, because let’s face it: she doesn’t have that luxury. No one in the medical industry has that luxury today or in the foreseeable future. This particular friend of mine has gone through two separate instances of chemo from ovarian cancer, and yet here she is on the front lines of the pandemic, selflessly serving others.

She shared how she sees many older patients in her practice, some of whom look forward to their doctor appointment because it’s the only social interaction they get all day, or even most days.

If you’re struggling with these new restrictions, think of the elderly people in your life. Think of the doctors, nurses, laboratory technicians, other hospital, hospice, and elder care workers.  Think of the daycare workers who are working with kids while juggling the risks and restrictions placed on them, every day let alone today. There are all kinds of people to think about, to thank.

We need to support one another, however we can.


In another one of those incredible, perspective-inducing memes:

Your grandparents were called to war. You’re being asked to sit on your couch. You can do this.


Ohio Governor Mike DeWine asked people to hang the American flag as a sign of solidarity, presumably because many of us might not have an Ohio flag, cool as it is with its pennant shape. The previous owners of our home had a flag pole in the yard but it was broken and became rusty so we pitched it several years ago. I will have to make an effort to hang our US flag somewhere on our house this weekend.

In today’s press conference Lt. Governor John Husted reminded us that tough times reveal our character. He spoke of a grocery store fight that broke out between two customers over toilet paper. Toilet paper. As much as I’ve joked about it, it’s not worth fighting with a fellow citizen.

Contrast that story with the one about a state employee, a technical guy who worked tirelessly to launch the state’s coronavirus unemployment benefits web page even while a close family member was dying. He chose a selfless act of service for his fellow citizens in a time of crisis over personal tragedy.


I sit in my house today wondering if my throat feels funny, like my glands are starting to swell. Maybe my imagination is running wild. It worries me. I realize I’ve been in a happy little bubble, but I really need to brace myself in case it bursts in the coming days.

This last week, my coworkers have all reliably shown up for work on conference calls like I confidently assumed they would, but it hit me: we will start hearing stories about people who are falling ill. People we know. The rumor mill is running with the name of an infected high school student in our community of roughly 27,000 people. Will it get more real when we hear that news first-hand from someone?

Is it more real now that the first Ohioan has passed from this virus? The numbers in Ohio and the US are really starting to jump. I’m not surprised at the numbers as we’ve been warned they would, and warned that we are just beginning this upward slope.

What if yesterday was Week One of Eight? What if it is Week One of much longer?


We are hearing reports that China and South Korea are slowly beginning to return to normal, but their societies are quite different than ours. I’m not an economist but I know America increasingly runs a small business and gig economy. How resilient are those to a pandemic? A few of my learned business friends are quite concerned about the long-term economic devastation about to hit America if this drags on longer-term.

One of those people is my best friend from college, Greg. I dreamt about him the night before, so I took it as a sign to Facetime him last night. We caught up for the first time after several months and I didn’t care that my face was sans make-up. He is hunkered down in his Manhattan apartment with his new fiancé and their two cats.

They pretty much can’t leave, and they haven’t for two weeks now. It’s impossible to step outside in New York and be six feet apart from people. He shared how the EMTs came the day before to take away his neighbor who couldn’t breathe.

He’s thinking through the logistics of packing up their lives and cats and traveling to Ohio to live with his elderly mom in the country for a few months until New Yorkers get the all clear. He figures he’ll be there to help his mom should she have a medical emergency, fix things around her house, and step out for fresh air by walking in the woods. He has the financial luxury to take a couple of months off from his work.

We talked daily in college, mostly to get through honors accounting homework and deal with our tough, formidable professor together, but just as often our talks turned to life and the future. Greg always called me “dear” and could finish my sentences for me, but despite all that, we always agreed to politely disagree about money.

Greg thinks we’re headed to a great depression of monumental proportions. I know exactly what kind of dominos need to fall for that to happen, and part of me knows he’s right about that, but for now I’m still hanging onto hope. If China and South Korea can emerge from this, maybe we can too. There will be casualties of the real and metaphoric kind, but I won’t mourn that yet. That time will come but not now.


Speaking of being hunkered down, I see many references to people reflecting on the dignity of Anne Frank, hiding in a 450 square foot space with her four other family members for two entire years, trying to avoid being heard and captured.

Perspective. We can do hard things.


Ryun and I need to do a better job of explaining that to our kids. Believe it or not, we finally sat down for family dinner last night and it wasn’t quite the Norman Rockwell moment we would have liked. Our kids had nearly a full week of free-for-all without curfews or much in the way of chores so the mere thought of gathering at the same time daily for – egads – a meal together was a crimp on their freedom.

I wanted to use the backside of my hand on each of them. I didn’t. I whipped out the old, “in my day we didn’t have the luxuries you did…” diatribe but it rang hollow. Eye rolls in every direction.

It was time to appeal to a higher good within them.

In between bites of spaghetti, they learned that for the rest of their lives, they will be asked, “What did you do during the pandemic?” and we explained we wanted them to be proud of their answer. Ryun and I suggested enrichment activities that – get this – each of them enjoys.

I may as well have told them the internet was dead. Or asked them to amputate an arm and return their electronic devices to owner. Not a proud parent moment. We have some work to do at Louie Lodge.

In closing, I leave you with this today, author unknown but full of grace.


Photo by Luis Melendez on Unsplash

Confessions of a Poor Prayer

An old friend of mine recently underwent major surgery. We hadn’t spoken in years for a variety of reasons but we recently connected – you guessed it – on Facebook. He has always struck me as a private, humble man and what was remarkable was how he asked for prayers beforehand, something he had never really done before, thinking that asking for prayers was selfish on his part.

The prayers and well wishes he received from family and friends from various parts of his life were plentiful, lifted his spirits, and carried him successfully through the surgery including a frightening episode about 24 hours post-operation. He admitted afterwards that he was grateful for everyone’s prayers as it truly helped him through.

Because we hadn’t spoken in years and the severity of the surgery caught me by surprise, I called him to catch up. The conversation eventually turned to my life and whether I was happy. I had to admit that no, I really wasn’t. There is something refreshing about my 50s that I’m more apt to tell it like it is.

I shared a little bit about why I am struggling with happiness, but after so many years of not talking to this friend, I still caught myself holding back. It didn’t seem appropriate to dump my whole life story in the span of a short conversation. Besides he had some physical healing to do, and I know times like that can bring on a sort of mental reconciliation as well. There was no need for me to burden him whatsoever with my story.


Anyone looking at my life from the outside in would think I had it made. However I would urge you to look around: do you really know what burden another carries in their heart or for how long? Do you really care to know? And can you be trusted with this information if you had it?


My friend asked me if I prayed about my troubles. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, and felt a lump in my throat before answering. Despite getting more and more frank as I age, I may have even held back on what was really in my heart when I responded.

I told him truthfully that I was 100% certain that God does not answer my prayers. Speaking from five decades of experience, of course.

I hate that that’s where my spirituality has evolved but it’s true. I can think of several concrete examples of the times I have fervently prayed to God, appealing to him for certain changes, outcomes, or relief that never came.

You’ve heard the arguments: God answers in his own time, in his own way. Maybe the things I’ve prayed for were not in my best interest.

And that’s where my head and my heart wonder: what’s the point?


As the conversation with my friend continued, I felt compelled to explain my position. I’m sure it surprised him that I didn’t give the most Christian of answers. In reality I’m really struggling with my faith. The older I get, the harder it is, too.

Yes, I believe a power greater than ourselves created everything including us. Our world, this universe? It’s all too complex and elegant and much of it beautiful to be purely random.

Yes, I believe in the power of good thoughts – that we literally send vibrations out into the world and they can be good or bad – and I’m a person who genuinely wishes well on my fellow man so I try hard to emit positive vibes all the time to everyone let alone to specific people and situations that warrant an extra flood of love.

I hear the Bible talk about how we all have talents we shouldn’t hide, and I interpret that to mean God gives us great means to care for ourselves and so we should, and we shouldn’t worry about whether we can do it – be like the lily in the field in that regard.

I’m well aware I do have so much going for me, and since God seems to ignore me when I do appeal to him (maybe because the lessons I’ve learned in life is that whatever I want is truly entirely up to me to go get), I don’t see the point of prayer other than to give thanks. Giving thanks is something I do. Prayers of thanks don’t do much to heal a broken heart, I’ve learned, but I give thanks anyway.

Over the years I’ve spoken to different priests about this. One of them has even agreed with my approach to not ask God for anything. He suggested that I simply engage in conversation with him by giving thanks and saying, “hi”. To be honest, that didn’t do much to help me grow closer to God.

My friend challenged me to answer the question, “What does Jesus mean to me?” and that’s when I truly bristled. I know what the “right” answer is. Yes, he is God’s son who died for our sins. But aren’t we all God’s children? And yes, he was innocent, but um…aren’t there hundreds of examples of innocents who die even more horrific deaths at the hands of evil? Examples that flood our smart phones on a daily basis? I’m really struggling with how the events of two millennia ago relate to me, today. I wonder what in the world is wrong with me that I don’t feel the connection that apparently every other Christian does.

It all feels so strange. In a year when my convert husband was elected president of our church, I find myself pulling away more and more. I have learned the hard way that some things are unknowable. This feels like one of them.

I’m ashamed to admit it. My sisters don’t have this crisis of faith. My old friend was likely very disheartened to hear my position – you see, he’s grown much closer to God over the years. I found myself unable to relate.

On one hand I admire people who are steadfast and strong in their faith but I really struggle – more than I should – to relate to them. You see, I put my trust in prayer and God for years, yet when I reflected on what came of it, I felt abandoned, not loved. I find myself reluctant to get stung like that again, especially when I have always tried to be a good person. Nowadays, I trust myself far more than an unseen, invisible, presumably benevolent force. The Bible even warns us about these very things, yet here I am. I guess that’s arrogance at its worst.

This isn’t to say I haven’t asked for prayers over the years. I can count on one hand how many times I have legitimately asked for prayers among my family and friends. One of those times, even my sister commented that it must be something weighing very heavy on my heart for me to ask for help. And you know what? I still struggled. I don’t know that it helped.

And maybe my current perspective is exactly why I’m struggling with happiness. The irony is not lost on me.

Strange, isn’t it? They say confession is good for the soul. Perhaps. I’m just baring mine so that others don’t feel quite so alone if they’re struggling with the same thing. Quite possibly this is what it means to be a broken Christian. I never claimed to be without sin.

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Pitiful Prayer

Treading into some controversial territory today: fair warning.

My husband and I got on the topic of prayer the other night. Admittedly, neither of us have the strongest prayer life. We acknowledge we need to work on it but we don’t know how.

My father would be so ashamed! I distinctly recall how that big, grown man fell humbly to his knees bedside every single night and in church every Sunday, praying quietly, even when he was too frail to kneel. I never knew what he said. Maybe all he recited was the Lord’s Prayer. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was all.

And Jesus himself taught us how to pray with that passage. To be humble before God and to acknowledge His position. To ask for what we need – and notably, not for our wants. To ask for forgiveness as we should do for others, and to lead us from evil.

And maybe that’s really all there ought to be to it.

But here I am, conflicted about prayer, knowing full well I am not the greatest role model for my kids or anyone on this topic. So bear with me as I give a confession of sorts. I can’t imagine I’m alone with this.

nathan-dumlao-583574-unsplashI don’t see how or where prayer works for me personally. It’s been my experience that God doesn’t answer. I don’t think He pays any attention to me at all.

It’s not like I don’t pray: I do. I certainly pray on behalf of others. But when it comes to things that impact me directly – things I personally want or need – I have zero expectations, so I’ve stopped asking on my own, or stopped believing that asking does any good. My faith is weak. Still I try, but it feels a little like crossing my fingers in superstition more than anything.


Let me explain. So many of us learned as children to pray and offer our petitions to God, and He would provide for us. As a child, you believe He will give you what you fervently pray for.

As you grow older, you notice that doesn’t happen. Both my husband and believed when we were younger that God didn’t shower us with the blessings we wanted because we didn’t live a good and worthy enough life, so we tried harder to be good and worthy in His eyes.

Still it didn’t happen. I struggled to understand where I was falling short. My husband quickly learned God wasn’t going to magically grant him a good performance as a musician if he prayed for it. No, he learned he needed to practice himself to ensure that he had a good performance.

Now my faith coaches me almost exclusively to ask God’s mercy because I’m a sinner, full stop. I’ve done nothing to deserve blessings. I have blessings simply because God has shown mercy and given His grace. And well yes, I’m flawed… I’m a sinner, through and through.

Now am I grateful for my blessings? Every single day, for every good thing. I give my thanks to God for those. I also know that some of these blessings are sheer, dumb luck.


You could almost make an argument that I don’t believe in God, but I do. I absolutely believe in a higher power. I simply can’t imagine the universe and all of us materialized out of nothing for no reason at all, despite the prevalence of sheer, dumb luck noted above. I just can’t fathom that when we humans discover the beauty and elegance among ourselves, on earth, in the seas, and in the universe that it is purely the result of scientific law and nothing more.

Of course, it hurts my brain to ponder that for too long because it begs the question of why and what we’re here to do…and I don’t want to get into that for now because I’m still not sure what my calling is. But today, I want to focus on prayer.


In another example, we are parents trying to guide our own children in the faith. Their innocence is so very pure. It broke my heart to hear my young son cry to me one day, explaining that he prayed to God for a certain outcome, and it didn’t happen. He didn’t understand why God didn’t hear his prayer and answer in the affirmative. I don’t remember how I coached my son at the time. What I truly believed I kept to myself, because I don’t want to crush my son’s spirit and besides, I’m not sure I’ve got it all figured out. I suppose maybe we aren’t supposed to.

What I’ve come to believe is this:  I personally don’t think God answers prayers at all. It’s an awful thing to admit, but that’s been my experience. Maybe my eyes aren’t open wide enough. I just think it’s completely useless to ask God for something you have the power or influence to change yourself. So, so much of what happens to you is in your power, even though some things happen as a result of pure, dumb luck or its evil twin, misfortune. True, some events are tragic or very fortunate indeed, and absolutely nothing you did or could have done could have changed that fact. Stuff just happens, whether or not you deserve it.

When I’ve tried to make sense of why God doesn’t answer my prayers, I hear that He answers them in His time and His way. We may not get what we wanted because He knows that what we wanted isn’t ultimately right for us.

How I hate that answer. God’s time is all eternity and I can’t wrap my head around that. Because you see, I’m living in the here and now, and maybe it’s arrogant to say it, but I have a pretty good handle on what is good for me. So this excuse we’re given for “inaction” on God’s part…well, I don’t think that’s how that works. I’m not saying this is what the Bible has taught me. This is flawed, little old me struggling with faith.

It feels pointless to ask God for anything. If He answers however He wishes, what’s the point of praying? Besides, doesn’t He already know what’s in my heart before I open my mouth? I suppose there is something to having a dialogue with God, but I think that’s just a fancy way of having a dialogue with yourself.

In its purest form, that’s meditation, which is even scientifically proven to be beneficial. I particularly like the meditation practice, or prayer, where you think about and channel positive thoughts toward the people you love, the people who are sick, people who you don’t like or who are your enemy, etc. On a quantum physics level, that stuff is real, the energy waves do make a positive impact.

Not to mention how there were times when I was disappointed in God’s “response”, or lack thereof, when it turns out I held the power to change my circumstances and failed to do so. I was looking for miracles from the Almighty when all I really needed was effort of my own.

Bottom line, I am convinced that you hold most of the power.

If you love someone and you desperately want them to love you back? You need to take action, be courageous no matter how vulnerable and unworthy you may feel, seek them out, and tell them how you feel. Don’t wait for divine intervention to communicate your feelings on your behalf and move your beloved to find you. You must be the one to take the action. You fail to do that, you lose. No one’s fault but your own. Believe me, I have learned this lesson the hard way. And once those opportunities are gone, they are gone forever, at least in the “here and now” part of forever. No amount of praying reverses it.

You want to be healthy? You must be the one to take the steps to make that happen. Eat properly, exercise, get sleep, find better ways to cope with your stress, change jobs if need be, or limit your exposure to toxic people. God isn’t going to do that for you. You must do that for you. No amount of praying gets you up off your own butt, miraculously causes you to get strong and limber, or purges the toxic people from your life.

You want that job, that house, that car, that whatever? I could give endless examples of what I mean, but you get the idea.

Maybe the next logical conclusion is there is no point in praying at all. God will show mercy and grace if He chooses. His right. It’s not like I can control it.

I acknowledge that God granted me a family, which is something I prayed for long ago. For some crazy reason, I can’t think of any other examples, but this one blessing is definitely one that is over the top. Each child is an absolute miracle, more than I could have ever dreamed.

However my heart breaks over the many worthy people who hoped and prayed for children that never materialized. I don’t know what to make of that. There are no good answers for why that is. All I know is that my husband and I were both healthy enough and still young enough to have children and we did. However it took some effort on our part…no immaculate conception at Louie Lodge, or anything.

This leads me to my next point: haven’t we all seen enough pure dumb luck as often as we’ve seen random misfortune in people’s lives? I tried futilely for years to understand why that is. There is no reason or rationale. It just happens regardless of how you pray.

And then, when things do go wrong, people often repeat that phrase, “God doesn’t give you something you can’t handle”. I really don’t think God doles out blessings and curses that way. Misfortune is sometimes earned and sometimes not. This line is just a way for people to express hopefulness that you’ll get through the misfortune and not let it kill you or wear you down.

As I said earlier, I don’t mind praying for others. We do this in church with every service and I do this all of the time on my own. And true, I even had the gall to ask for prayers for myself from others but it is a rare occurrence. I can count only two times I deliberately, sincerely asked for help out loud. It was to overcome something I’ve struggled with my whole life. And the bottom line?  It’s ultimately up to me to fix, no one else.


Now all of this said, I have witnessed a certain power to prayer when a group of people come together and someone gives voice to what they hope will arise. I think that sort of prayer is very powerful. It’s really a call to action for the group. Someone articulates what needs to happen, and it moves each of us on a cellular level to take action, whether it is through kind words or hands-on deeds.

Sadly it’s become an insult to send nothing but “thoughts and prayers” these days when something horrific happens. I will admit that it bugs me if that’s all anyone does. I hope people are moved people to do something, send money, visit, share a resource, change a law, or connect people who can help one another. True, sometimes we are too far away to do anything but send thoughts and prayers, but we can call or write. We can do something, right? Shouldn’t we be moved to find something constructive we can do, too?

Otherwise we’re walking the proverbial road to hell, paved with good intentions.  Living this life with nothing else but good intentions.

Nevertheless, there is real power in group prayer. It’s casting a net for people to collectively be God and do His work. It’s reaching into the divine within each of us.

I realize that my personal experience here could be taken to be at odds with Christianity but I humbly disagree. Each and every one of us is the manifestation of God. We are collectively needed to demonstrate His power. Maybe that’s a little too heady for some people or too blasphemous for others, but if it drives good and positive results, real help or comfort for the people of our world, how is that bad or wrong?

Believe me, I wish praying was as simple as manifesting what you wanted and needed in your own mind and God was a genie granting your wishes. It just doesn’t work that way.

And it’s quite possible my life isn’t richer because my prayer life is pitiful.

Sigh….sometimes I envy people who quietly put their full faith in God. And other times, I roll my eyes at people who do that. I can’t articulate where I draw the line…I’m not proud of my skepticism. Maybe it’s the extreme or showy people who puzzle me. Maybe I’m jealous of those who give everything to God. Or maybe it’s the people with a quiet or absolutely unmoved, utterly positive faith in God that inspire me the most. I admire them, but I am not among them.

Lord, have mercy.

Photo by Nathan Dumlao on Unsplash

A Mother’s Prayer

First published on Facebook March 5, 2011. Edited slightly today for small changes I’ve made since then.

On Facebook several months ago, someone posed the question, “What do you wish for your children?” Excellent question.

My oldest son was already five or six by that point, and I wasn’t sure if I knew what I considered to be essential for my kids. I had an idea, but I had not boiled it down to the essence. That’s the great thing about having children. It forces you to get clear – crystal clear – about what you value and to live by those same values.

And I got to thinking that whatever I wish for my children is what I ought to be praying for my children. After all, a wish is a prayer. And a prayer is a thought that turns into words that turns into action and maybe reality. At least there is a better chance of it turning into reality than what is not articulated in prayer.

Now, I’ve been a Christian all my life but not a very good one. I’m not a gifted, Bible-verse-quoting one. I stumble around as far as Christians go. The discipline in my prayer is lacking severely so I’ve been working on it. But this question about what I wish for my children has tumbled around in my head enough that I’ve built a prayer around it. I worked on it and worked on it, until it felt real to me and had a natural, meditative cadence.

milada-vigerova-36934-unsplashI have no idea if my prayer is a good, worthy, humble one. But I have high hopes for my children, which means I lift up my prayer to God who listens and grants us what we need in His time according to His will. I don’t have a lot of patience, so this has been a tough lesson for me personally, but that’s just the way it is. His time, his way.

I would often recite this prayer in my car on the way to work, one run-through for each child, then for my husband, and then for a few other people as my heart so moved me. Every now and then I insert a special petition for whatever else my loved ones may be going through in life. For purposes of sharing, however, I’ll refer to them collectively. Here is my prayer.

A_Mothers_Prayer


It isn’t enough for me to simply share the prayer. I want to share how to came to find these words. Just as there is poetry and deep meaning behind each word of the Lord’s Prayer, each phrase of my prayer has an expanded meaning, at least to me. So here it goes:

God bless them: this is a simple appeal to God to grant His blessings upon my beautiful children in whatever form He wishes.

God bless them and keep them safe from harm: I scares me to think of the evil in the world, and safety of our children has become such a screamingly real issue these many years, so I ask for His blessings again and beseech Him to project my precious children, please.

May they grow strong:  strong in spirit, emotional fortitude, physical strength. Life on this earth requires stamina. I want them to always build upon this strength: body, mind and soul.

May they live long: let them experience the fullness of a long life and live to see their children’s children.

Happy, and healthy: and may that life be foremost a happy one, and then a healthy one.  Since it has taken me quite a while to recapture happiness and health is not something I have mastered, I wish for this first. No matter what else happens in life, what bigger blessings could I hope for my children?

Wealthy: maybe it’s a bit much to ask that they be blessed with wealth, but I’m going to ask anyway. I don’t mean I want the wealth of a millionaire for them; I just don’t want them to struggle with money issues…and if wealth means nothing more than an accumulation of grace here for the riches of God’s kingdom later, I’ll take it.

And wise: may they be fair and knowledgeable and gracious and balanced and live with perspective on the good and bad that inevitably come with life. Wise can mean so many things, and maybe it too is a bit much to ask but I don’t want any of our kids to be naive. I want them to know their way in this world, and maybe guide others.

May they always know love: love in its purest form, starting unconditionally and forever with us, their parents. But let love envelop them from all angles – siblings, grandmother, aunts, uncles, Godparents, cousins, teachers and friends. And then, when they leave home, may they still be surrounded by the love of good friends and be directed toward their soulmates. May they never let anyone stomp on their hearts; may they always seek out and be surrounded by the purest love. And then, when each has found the love of his or her life, may our children know the love of a child of their own, one or more as they choose. I want them to always know love in their lives. It doesn’t matter how many people are involved, only the quality and constant presence of that love. I have ached with prolonged loneliness for years on end; it is my wish that my children never know this feeling.

May they find joy and passion in life: I know life will come with inevitable sorrows, but we must actively cultivate the joy.  I want them to find it, keep it, sustain it. And passion – ah, that’s a loaded word. But I hope each child finds something that will interest them, jazz them so much that time stands still and it doesn’t feel like work. What a joy that will be! I truly believe they go hand in hand. This is another area where I personally have pecked along, unsure of what brought me joy with no one to guide me in that discovery, and then I was blocked from it when I found it. It is my job as a mother to help my children discover their inherent joy, talents and passions and help bring them to fruition.

May it uplift them and all those around them: joy and passion can take all kinds of forms but I don’t mean self-serving, self-destructive, incurred-at-the-expense-of-others joy and passion. I mean the kind of joy and passion that does nothing but uplift their spirit and that of everyone around them. Happy, positive, life-affirming, wholesome joy and passion. Filling-the-bucket joy and passion. That kind of joy and passion.

May their thoughts, words, and deeds be positive, confident, and kind: may what they think turn into what they say and turn into action. May they dwell on the positive instead of relentlessly focusing on the negative. May they find confidence deep within themselves and let it shine. And please, Lord, let them be kind to one another, to those they meet in this journey of life, and to themselves.

And may they give thanks for their blessings all the days of their life: we practice gratitude in our house, and I hope this is something they carry in their heart always and express and teach others to do the same.

For this I pray: Yes, for this I pray. This is what I pray, beseech of the Lord, want for all my children, and will actively work toward, doing whatever I can to make it a reality.

Amen:  It is so, so be it, let it be.  That is the definition of amen, after all.


The joy and love I have for all three of my children knows no end.

Photo by Milada Vigerova on Unsplash