But she prayed all the same. She prayed for the car that drove too fast, asking The Lord to reveal to them their unsafe speeds, and to call to their attention that small children lived on this street. This fast car, or that one, inevitably parked in front of the small house with the college kids living in it. A parent bought the home as an investment property, and then the twenty-somethings moved in, setting up TVs and turning their garage into a workout/party room, complete with punching bag and kegerator. Some Fridays would have all night parties, and the other neighbors scowled, as young adults would laugh and yell at midnight, going to and from their cars.

Araceli would pick up beer cans in the morning, and pray everyone made it home safe.

She prayed for the young couple with no children. The couple who often stumbled in late at night, and left for days on end. She could tell: there was no car in the driveway, and newspapers piled up, along with little baggies with pebbles and business cards in them, tossed by landscapers looking for work. She prayed for this couple because she once found an empty pharmaceutical pill bottle labeled “CANNABIS”, and she hoped that the children had not gotten into it, as it was empty.

She prayed for the woman on the street whose husband had up and left since. And though the marriage had been hard, the punishment of unwitting abandonment was something late night television had a hard time easing. 

Araceli knew. She saw the light coming from the window, late at night.

She would pray for Jake, though he didn’t know it. She saw him with his kids out front, from time to time, and could tell he was just tired. Sunburnt, unshaven, and sometimes wincing as he picked the little ones up. He usually smiled, and she appreciated the small bit of energy he spent on her being cordial, friendly, but it was clear that his desperation was too much to hide. And she prayed for him. 

Araceli was a superhero, and her super-power was that she could see right through anyone. So she made her way around the cul-de-sac, walking, praying. And to an outsider, she appeared as a harmless, unassuming woman, whose well-behaved teenagers were getting ready to leave the nest, and she was happy about it. But she didn’t pray out loud, and she didn’t move her lips, so no one knew the truth. Which was that she was saving the world.

~

And as we pulled into the driveway with little Landon sitting there, face-forward, with an expectant look on his face, Jake checked him in the rear-view mirror. Landon raised his little finger, pointed, and said his third word.

“home.”