A rough night at gymnastics.

A cut, a fall, more tumbles when tumbling was not supposed to happen.

A quick trip for frozen yogurt and a smile returns.


Just as the sun sinks into the sky, while she licks the last remnants of treat from the spoon, her small voice catches me off guard.

“What can I pray for you for Momma?”

I cannot claim credit for teaching her to ask the question.

After weeks of watching us start each Sunday mass with that question to the person in the pew beside us, she has learned this is a way she can engage.

Her church community has nurtured in her the desire to connect in this manner.

I paused not sure how to answer.

There is a line I’ve often felt when revealing ones prayers that are closest to the heart.

“Will you pray for guidance and for wisdom for Momma?”

With the heart of a six year old her response makes me pause one more time.

“Can we pray now Momma? I want to pray for you and for some others I’ve been thinking about.”

Grateful for our church.

Grateful for this journey of mothering where I receive more then I give.



In this world of immediate gratification, I am learning to live with longing.

Not the kind of longing that paralyzes you with fear, but the kind that tells you in the waiting you will find your greatest reward.

The answers won’t arrive with the speed of a freight train. They come slowly, with the pace more akin to that of a meandering  donkey on the road to Bethlehem.

With each sunrise, I open my mouth in prayer, hopeful the answers will come.

I choose with that same prayerful breath to acknowledge the goodness to be had in the waiting.

The growth to be gained from the longing.