Part of me wanted it to get better. Part of me had stopped trying. For decades I had waited for her to make the first move. I had waited most of my life. Was I supposed to repair the relationship? Or was she? It's as if it never fully developed in the first place.

Over the years I asked others about it, counselors, spiritual directors, monks I consulted on retreats. I described our lack of a relationship. They all gave me the same advice: accept the relationship you have.

How gracious to yield when so much is at stake. To pray for the person who would get the organs that would save your daughter's life. I barely find it in me to yield to a driver who wants to get in my lane on the highway or the person behind me on an airplane who needs to get off first to make a connecting flight. So many times I want what I want and can't see at all the small needs of anyone else around me, much less the big needs.