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It was the same every night when Ruth Kristmon got into her bed. First she thought of Ray, her late husband, who had laid beside her in the very same bed for 49 years and three months, until his death the previous spring. "I'm coming home soon, Ray," Ruth always said. "I'll meet you in All Saints Park under the Tenth Street bridge." This favorite memory of their courting days, their secret meetings under the bridge, brought a smile to her lips. And then Ruth's thoughts always turned to their children.

"Lord, be with Peter. Give him strength for his work. He has looked so tired and discouraged lately. I wish I was able to help him like I used to when I was able to drive the car. I don't think he has been eating regularly or getting enough sleep. Help him to slow down, Lord. Let him know that he is not the only one working in your world. You know how I worry, Lord. I just don't want Peter to end up with an ulcer like his uncle, Paul.

"Bless Andy, dear Lord, my sweet traveling son. The work you give him takes him so far away. I miss looking upon his face and hearing him laugh. No one can make me laugh like Andy. What a gift you have given him. I worry about him being out on the highway so much. And be with Sally and their children. My heart still aches for Sally. She hasn't come around much since their divorce. I know I have to accept it, Lord, but I don't have to like it. I wish they could be together again. I know Andy needs her and I think he is beginning to know it, too. Keep Andy safe, Lord. Bring him home soon.

"And Steven, dead now these thirty years. How my heart longs for him. I have trusted Steven to your care, Lord. It was the only way I could go on. It was so hard to see his life cut short. I wish it had been me who took the stand instead of him. Perhaps I wouldn't have been as much of a threat to them. But then, it was his work to do, and it was for your glory. I have to accept that, too. Will I see Steven again? Will he be there to meet me, too? Surely he will. I can see him there with Ray, his arm on his dad's shoulder and that cock-eyed grin.

"Thank you for Mary, Lord. How blessed I am to have a daughter like her. If only you hadn't made us so much alike, it might have been easier for us. It's better now that her children are grown. We seem to have come to an understanding. How good it is to see her every day. I don't tell her enough how much I appreciate her. I'm afraid I complain too much about my own aches and pains. Do I expect too much of her, Lord? Don't let Mary overdo on my account. Let her enjoy a life of her own, too.

"And John, O Lord, how proud I am of John. I wish I could visit him more often. Letters seem inadequate to convey all the love we all have for him. Set him free, Lord. You know, as I know, that he is innocent. You know that if he had pleaded guilty he would have been free by now. But John is not of this world. I taught him too well to love truth and to give himself for others. He would have died before he would have implicated the friend he knew to be innocent, too. Keep him safe from all the evil in that place, O Lord. And if it be your will, bring him home to me, a free man, before I die."

Ruth's prayer went on for almost an hour, as it did every night before she went to sleep. She remembered each of her children, their spouses, her seventeen grandchildren and David and Melissa, her new great-grandchildren. "Bless all my babies," Ruth prayed. "Keep them safe, every one."