David Dault, PhD

Have you ever made a decision based on very little information that will surely affect the rest of your life—as well as the lives of everyone in your family—and which has no assurance of success? At the end of this past summer, my wife and I made a decision like that. We bought a house.

Every day, I carry a card among the items in my left pocket. I believe it was a gift from my wife, Kira (who has given me similar wonders through the years). It is a prayer card for Our Lady, Undoer of Knots.

In the picture, the Blessed Virgin is surrounded by numerous figures, each holding out tangled balls of twine. She stands in the middle, patiently at work, with a long strand of unknotted string trailing behind her.

When I was a young man, I took a trip to the Grand Canyon and rode from the top to the basin on a mule. We reached the bottom in the late afternoon. I had supper, a really good cup of coffee, and I strolled by the Colorado River.

There’s something unique about watching the sunset from there at the bottom. You’re looking up the canyon wall and, high above, the sun drops lower and lower. Then the sun is gone. You move from light to shadow in a heartbeat. In the space of a breath, the summer air goes cold.

For me, losing a parent was like that.

Keep the Children Safe

Back in 1989, a week of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood episodes was devoted to story lines about working mothers. In one story that week, we were introduced to Helena Ruoti, an employee at the small music shop in the neighborhood run by Joe Negri. As the episode begins, Helena is on the phone with her babysitter. Her young son, Matthew, is screaming, and nothing will comfort him.

Joe suggests she go home to be with her son. Helena feels torn. “I’d like that, ” she says, “but I also want to do my job for you. “