The anesthesiologist stood, her assistant swept the drapes to the side and released the bed brake. MaryBeth was still talking as I bent down and caught her last words with my lips and told her, “I love you”, and then in a blink she was gone to surgery. As I walked to the waiting room, I could feel the beginning of tears, not fear tears, but memory tears of sitting with her early that morning in the chapel, holding her hand and listening to her gratitude prayers. Twelve hours later the same gratitude prayers pour from her mouth, and I once again feel the flow of tears. Find time for gratitude prayers today.
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