A military mom shares her prayer

AS I WRITE THIS, my home in Evergreen, Colorado, is in the middle of a downpour, and the hummingbirds that were just at the feeder have taken refuge from the rain. My children are both United States military pilots—"hummingbirds" in their own way—and I don't know what kind of "downpour" they might be in from one minute to the next.

My daughter, Tenille, flies for the Navy. Her brother, TenEyck, a pilot for a commercial airline, is in military service at the moment flying F-16's in the Air Force. So if you ask me where my children are, my answer could be simply that they're in the air. I do know neither of them right now is in a combat area, but there's no knowing when that might change. And danger is not confined to war zones. Refueling huge aircraft at high speeds or doing maneuvers at twice the speed of sound is not exactly what you'd call a "comfort zone." So I have another, a better, answer about where my children are. It has to do with prayer.

September 1, 2003

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