From the “My babies are getting too old” files… over the past fifteen years both in Virginia and Texas, I’ve lived relatively close to enormous airports. Not close in the sense that I can see the drinks being ordered in first class on takeoff but close enough to where I can be at a terminal in fifteen minutes from my front door. When my kids were little and they would occasionally have a hard time sleeping late at night (and owing to my obsession with airports) I would toss them in the car, drive around the airport, and pray a rosary. They’d be out in no time.
Last night my now teenage son asked a most unusual question. “Have you prayed all of your rosary yet?” He knows I say all fifteen decades. I replied that I had and he gave me a sad look.
“What did you have in mind?” I asked him.
“I was hoping we could take a drive through the airport. Just… for fun.”
“Well son,” I said, “There’s always night prayers…”
And just like that we were driving past terminals again, saying our prayers.
God is too kind to me.
Harvey Millican's Blog: Musings of a Trad Dad 