A process, a prayer.

I am currently packing for the east coast. I bought a pair of red long-johns (complete with butt-flap) and a Holden Caulfield hunting hat in an effort to set my mind to adventure and rid my stomach of anxiety. I found myself thinking of a gag gift I saw in my boss's shop: a statuette called St. Anne, Patron Saint of Lost Stuff. St. Anne came equipped with a silly prayer for the consumer to speak to her, written in Old Testament prose with a bit of contemporary sarcasm. Now I am thinking of you all, and also thinking of prayer. The act of prayer has seemed to be faithful to some of us while causing others to question; I think both situations are good. For me, prayer (i.e. confiding in or asking things of God) is a subject matter I struggle with; however, I feel absolutely comfortable throwing out this weird, somewhat cheese-ball, little thought to nesbit- to you guys (and the internet).

A process, a prayer:

Let me have courage.
To have Libby's compassion for people and propensity toward beauty.
To have Lauren's agile-appetite for learning and her gift of clear, fluid speech.
Sydney's ability to figure shit out, to adventure and her valor of inquiry.
And lastly, Eleanor's ability to lift herself from the conforms of what is already known- and go.