Most nights, my bedtime prayer with our two oldest boys begins like this:
Be still and know that I am God.
I can’t remember if it started when our litany of God-blesses maxed out with a mile-long list of everyone my kids knew: every teacher at their schools, every former babysitter, every relative they’ve never met, all the poor people and sick people and sad people and homeless people and all the children in the world.
