Good morning, you, there with your coffee cup.
Oh, how I love you.
You breathe my name in your prayers, on days when I cannot pray at all. So many of you have told me, "There hasn't been a day, Tricia. Not a day has passed when I haven't prayed for your family,"
or "I have prayed constantly this week, Tricia. I have not stopped,"
or "We are still here, in this with you."
In my mind, I picture you: an army marching through the storm, carrying ten thousand umbrellas. The storm is every kind of scary: the clouds loom, the wind blows, the sky is gray and threatening.
You walk with me, shoulder to shoulder, your umbrellas held fiercely high. And the storm has not swept me away.
I am humbled, my friends, by your faithfulness, your longevity, your willingness to remember.
I know I'm not the only one in a storm. I carry an umbrella for you, too. With you.
This morning, I raise mine alongside yours: Cheers to sunshine.