Every time the phone rings, I say a little prayer.

Not a literal prayer with words for gods or saints who may be listening from the heavens. But an earnest hope in the fleeting moment before I answer that whoever is calling has merely fair to middling news.

It’s not as if I cross myself or genuflect, though it does feel like a brief encounter with the superstition that is the last remaining trace of my Catholic school faith.

And while I believe that none of our problems are new, time and pressure have a way of making us feel as if they are not only novel but also daunting.

It also doesn’t help that the bombardment of news chickens falling from the media sky has us feeling like it’s all just too hard.

Of course, we know we have to do the hard things. We know........

© The Saratogian