For those fighting to live tonight.

As I exited a Boston hospital this evening, cold air hitting my face, I inhaled deeply as I walked to the valet at a hurried pace.

I submitted fully to the moment, reflecting upon how incredible it felt to breathe in the winter night, my lungs ecpanding, filled with the fresh, crisp air, then slowly and deliberately exhaling the pain, sadness, and confinement an ICU mandates.

Having stood aside my aunt, overheard the calls for help in the next ICU bed, and observed multiple monitors, the fresh air reminded me of how fortunate a majority of us are to breathe it in.

Buckled in the car, hitting the road, I was rapidly reminded of how crazy drivers are on the road. No directionals, no courtesy for fellow drivers, and road rage at an all-time high. This was definitely heightened by the holiday frenzy!

As I navigated the highways, I found myself angry that people are so ugly.

Why not slow down. Let another driver into the lane. Use a directional. Maybe think of all those fighting for their lives tonight.

As you’re speeding along for whatever reason, there are floors full of people in local hospitals clinging to life. Tubes, medicines, and monitors. The flutter of an eye, grip of a hand, change in breathing. The hope that something will change – and this person will make it. Hospital staff who haven’t seen the outside of an ICU in daylight for 72 or more hours.

What could be more important than this?

For those fighting for their lives tonight. We see you. We are here for you. We love you.

Please pray for my aunt. Please pray for my father. Please pray for all of those who need prayers.

And please keep me strong enough to pour energy and hope into those who need it.