In the still-dark hours of the morning yesterday, I heard a whispering from the middle child.

“Dear Jesus, Thank you for this day . . . .”

After some mumbling, I heard her “Amen.”

We are in South Dakota for the week.

Celebrating the life and death of Peter’s Grandma . . . a wonderful woman of Christ, the one I loved as soon as I met her.

This bittersweet-ness of life, it just seems to grow.

So, here we are crammed all together in a hotel room, all five of us figuring out how to sleep even when the baby wakes up puking and one wants the light on and the other wants it off.  We work it out somehow.

When I hear Kate praying, I ask her about it.

“But Mom,”  she says, “You told me that as soon as I wake up I should pray.  I should ask Jesus to help me get through the day.  To be kind.  To be happy.  To not argue.  And so I do.”

I had no idea she was actually listening.

 And so now I WANT to be crammed together in this hotel room to listen to My Girl’s sweet words to Jesus first thing in the morning.

Because her prayer not only changed her day, but it changed mine, too.

P.S.  Grandma was named Kathleen, but was known as “Aunt Kate” to many.  Our Kate was named after her.  Here they are celebrating her 1st Birthday together.