I prayed for you today...

                              And I don’t even know your name.

I prayed for all my sisters and brothers in Christ. I prayed for those who don't yet know Jesus.

I prayed for all those suffering illness or pain. I prayed for those who have good health and prosperity.

I paid for those who are lonely. I prayed for those with more friends than they can count.

I prayed for those with addictions and fears. I prayed for those who are traveling in confidence and joy.

I prayed for those who are worried about their children…spouses…parents. I prayed for everyone someone else is worrying about.

I prayed for those who feel burdened by the problems of life. I prayed for those who get up knowing things are going right.

I prayed for the workers. I prayed for the idle.

I prayed for all God’s children. I prayed for those who don’t see Him as Father.

See – I prayed for you today, and I don’t even know your name.

Dad - for your 90th birthday

I think that I should mention my Dad now.

He moved from a house to a senior living facility, where he still makes his own meals, watches classic tv and writes. My dad, 90 years old, uses a walker or cane due to knee problems, can't always remember where he left things, but just bought his first laptop with wireless printer. He stocked up on paper and toner...I got him a wireless mouse and he has been writing ever since. He is trying to tell us what he is all about by writing stories - non-fiction and fiction, and letting us see the world through his eyes and words.

He was born in 1922, served in WWII and Korea and then remained a reservist till he retired.

My dad always worked when I was growing up - fulltime as a mailman (letter carrier if I need to be politically correct) and on and off in part time employment as a AAA dispatcher, school janitor, tow truck driver...

When we were young, Mary and I were Daddy's girls, as Mom worked evenings. When Mom would go to the hospital to have one of my younger siblings, the teachers always knew because our usually carefully curled hair was somewhat less tight being wrapped around Dad's much larger fingers.

When Mom worked, Dad was our Girl Scout parent, stepping in on his turn. He had so much confidence in being a man that he never felt threatened or scared by Mom's success.

I never saw Dad angry, a situation he attributes to having used all his anger up in his youth...and having nothing to show for it. He considered anger a wasted emotion.

I saw him cry only twice - once when my Aunt Margaret died, after hearing the anguish in her young son's grief, and once when my Mother's health took a turn for the worse, and we knew that she would be leaving soon.

My dad remarried after my mother's death. He buried his second wife when he was in his late 80's. Will he marry again? I wouldn't be surprised.

He is 90 and still loves the company and excitement of women. He loves all his daughters and took all of them through the pangs of adolescence, some through the pain of divorce, some through the confusion of life itself. He has helped us all financially and emotionally over the years.

As for his son...two men were never so different and so alike. Kevin and Dad differed on everything but it was because they saw the world with passion and as a source of discovery...one through the eyes of a mature and experienced man...the other as a hopeful, driven young man.

My dad is not a 90 year old man at a senior housing center. He is a loving father, a trusted friend, a gentle soul and giant heart. My dad is not an idle retiree but a driven and active man who just doesn't have to work any more.

He reads and encouraged us to do so - he loves cartoons, The Three Stooges and Get Smart with Don Adams. He enjoys music and good food. He believes in God, worship and his church.

He is there for us every step of the way, the only person in my family to consistantly attend my silly choir concerts and gives an adequate and fair review afterwards.

I keep saying Dad this and Dad that...but he is Daddy. He is my link with the past. He is the teller of stories and the keeper of secrets. Dad questions if I am on the right track since some of my choices differ from what he and Mom had planned for me. Daddy loves and respects my decisions.

And for all that he saw in his children's lives, Daddy couldn't stand to see us cry. He always had a gentle hand and teasing joke to get us back on track. He had a special handkerchief he would pull out and blot up our tears, telling us that he was holding them and each would turn into a pearl for us.

I don't have a pearl necklace from my dad, but Daddy has given me many pearls of wisdom to make me a better and stronger person.

Daddy loves me, and my sisters, brother, our families and many friends. And we love him back.