Prayers Blog Posts

For me, walking is no longer an automatic, mindless function. I struggle walking, wobbling with each step, anticipating the predictable pain of successive strides.

My home blew up! There was a horrific explosion in Beirut that decimated a whole section of the city leaving people even more homeless, jobless, and hopeless than they were before the blast.

I love to read. Stories fascinate me. When words are juxtaposed just right within a narrative, they jump out at me and I get the “goosies!” I have spiral notebooks full of exquisite phrases and sentences gleaned from reading. These words are powerful. They make me stop and think, mull over a new idea, soak in a relatable epiphany, and absorb a fresh perspective on a familiar concept.

Each morning, I wake up in excruciating pain. I stumble to the tea kettle, turn it on, make myself a cup, and shuffle to my corner chair in the office nook where I sit with my back cushioned by a heating pad.

My father wasn’t the warm cuddly type. He didn’t play board games, not even scrabble! But as an athlete, he loved sports and interacted with us, especially my brother, in that arena. However, school, books, and homework were a definite guaranteed fulcrum around which we bonded.