I wish I may, I wish I might

Woke up wide awake at 2:30 a.m. again with thoughts running wildly through my head. I did what I always do when I lie awake in bed at night. I prayed. Whatever you call it: wishing, meditating, praying- it's where we go internally to give thanks, face our fears, ask for courage and strength, or send our questions up to the universe-especially those questions we don't know the answers to. Why do good people suffer? What is the meaning of our life? My mother's room is her nest, padded with mass cards and small prayer booklets. She is a devout Catholic and it has served her well. Her faith shines through her daily actions and guides her life. She says she's not afraid to die, so why am I afraid to watch her die? "Say a Novena for me, Mom." I've heard my siblings say this sentence many times over the years. Ever since we were little kids we knew the Novena was the 'big' prayer, the one that meant business and got results. Mom's Novenas were our emotional booster shots. There's comfort in prayer, the kind of comfort that reaches through the blackness and takes you by the shoulders, reminds you that your words drift upward and twine together with all the other prayers in the universe to form a sort of net that catches us. So here I am once more and here's to all of you out there wishing and praying for peace.