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July 21, 2017

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That last paragraph is really beautiful and has me (in my emotional newly-pregnant state) weepy.

" And as I watched her sleeping I thought about my daughter, and wondered who would be praying for her 80 years from now. I hope it is engraved on her heart, now and then and in between, how deeply and everlastingly she is loved. I hope she can hold on to that truth, whatever age may take away."

I'm not pregnant (most emphatically not) but I might be a bit premenstrual. But either way I am most definitely weepy over this paragraph. Who will be praying for my children 80 years from now?

Will they still be holding on to the faith?Oh I fervently hope and pray that they are.

A couple of years ago I knelt in a dim church and held my youngest child while her older sister made her first confession and I suddenly had this need to whisper in my toddler's ear: Remember this moment. Remember this place. He is waiting for you here. When you need him, He will be Here. Come back to this place." And I had an almost visualization of a young woman walking into a church some time in the future. I have no idea what that was about, but I felt very strongly that somehow it had been vouchsafed to me to communicate with her across the years, to give her a message that she needed very much to hear.

This makes me weepy in the same way. Maybe in some sense *I* need to be the one praying for them now and at the hour of their deaths? At least, I can be sure that all the Hail Marys I've said over the years will ensure that our Heavenly Mother will be praying for them then. But I can also hope very much for the kindness of strangers as well. That's a beautiful, beautiful thought.

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