I didn’t tell Mary that I had signed up for adult swimming lessons in my 20's at the local YMCA—twice. Both times, I quit around the fourth week because I simply could not get the hang of it. It was especially unnerving to watch children who barely reached my knees having the time of their lives. They floated, backstroked and front-crawled across the pool as if they had been born with fins. Meanwhile, I could barely get my legs to rise behind me! But Mary was calm, reassuring and positive.

Lately I've been experiencing what I call life-sized paper cuts. Almost before I can put ice on one situation and cover it with a Band-Aid, another one appears. Maybe your life has felt less like a peaceful walk in the park and more like a round of Whac-A-Mole. You know the game. It's usually found at carnivals or church bazaars. You're given a giant stick and told to whack the furry little moles as they pop out of random holes. Just when you finally knock one back down, two more pop up

Later that evening, my mother was admitted to the ICU. While there, she experienced a severe seizure. Her entire body began seizing. My brother and I were alarmed. The nurse was alarmed. My mother was afraid. Moments earlier, I had prayed that anything in that room that was not of God would leave. Suddenly, her body began seizing violently. The nurses did not know what to do. They stood there watching. My mother repeatedly said, "I don't know if I'm going to make it." I called on Jesus