Marjorie Campbell, marjorie@marjoriecampbell.com
"Mom, mom!" a tense, tightly curled nine-year-old hissed from the pew in front of me. "Mom, the Lord is stuck in my retainer." My own post-Eucharist prayer expanded, I considered the last time I, too, got stuck with the Lord.
One April morning three years ago, after sending children to school and husband to work, I cashed in my frequent flyer miles for a ticket that afternoon to Rome. En route to the airport, I answered an innocent call from husband Bill, who launched into suggestions for dinner with the four-star general whom -- he forgot to mention -- was visiting that evening. "Honey," I finally interrupted, "there's something I need to tell you . . ."
