
We live in four different states. We worship in four different Christian traditions. We have four different professional backgrounds. I’ve known each of the other three in three different stages of my life. Between us we have 14 children ages 10 to 41, as well as a growing number of grandchildren. And we have two very important things in common. First, we all four put our faith in Jesus; and second, we all are moms of adult children living within the swirling horrors of mental illness.
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There have been many times when our family has found itself in the midst of an adventure … like the time we were in rural Africa and the rugged airstrip where our tiny plane had just landed was actually too short for the return takeoff. It was a bit scary as we watched the pilot work through various plans to extend the length of the runway. He concocted a number of configurations for adjustments and finally we were able to leave.
Lord, it is after 3 in the morning: my “worry hour.” The terror of the night is creeping into my mind as I imagine the worst. Our adult son,
I think it is significant that Jesus taught us to pray collectively, with plural pronouns: