Today I decided to go down to the beach and say a little prayer for Boston. I don’t pray very often and when I do I usually don’t talk about it, but that’s what I did. I prayed for the families affected by yesterday’s tragedy. I prayed for the people of my hometown, Boston.
I could’ve taken a run along the shore, but I’m not much of a runner. I took off my shoes and dug my feet in the sand. It felt good.
My first waitressing job was at The Stage Deli on Boylston Street. I was in college, living on my own and it was one of the most exciting times of my life. Earning my own money! Spending my money on anything I wanted! Making my own choices felt good. Freedom was exhilarating. Years later I learned that my great-grandmother, an Irish beauty with fiery hair and a personality to match, made her living as a waitress… on Boylston Street. An incredible connection. Our choices led us both to that magical street.
Ours were just two of the millions of choices made on Boylston Street every day. A choice to provide for one’s family, a choice to buy a new skirt, a choice to run a marathon… just because we can.
The choice to run on the beach, or not. The choice to pray or not. I take my freedom for granted.
I will still go to the mall. I will still take my kids to Disneyland. I still plan on seeing Justin Timberlake with my husband this summer.
I will choose freedom, not fear.
With my feet deep in sand I pray for our children. I pray for us.
