DEAR PRESIDENT BUSH,

A couple of weeks ago, in one of our Friday phone conversations, my mother and I ventured onto the subject of world affairs. "I've been getting these e-mails," she told me, "from people I've never heard of, about how we should all pray that Saddam will just leave Iraq before there's a war, or that the Iraqi army will throw down their weapons before a shot is even fired. I don't want a war either, but ... I just don't feel comfortable telling God what He should do."

MY FIRST MESSIAH PERFORMANCE WAS A UNIVERSITY production augmented by community members. I was one of the latter--a college dropout who didn't know much about music but knew what I liked. The director (I'll call him Mr. Gunther) was passionate and volatile, the type who usually spells trouble for music departments; he had already alienated half the faculty mid-term. But Mr. Gunther loved this music, and over weeks of rehearsal had exhorted and molded the choir into a mean Messiah machine--or at least we thought so.

FAMILY IS IN THE NEWS AGAIN. NOT ONLY IS THE holiday season a time for soft-focus commercials about the joys of gathering around the Butterball turkey and pumpkin pie topped with Cool Whip, but Al and Tipper Gore are promoting their new book Joined at the Heart: The Transformation of the American Family. Judging from reviews, Mr. and Mrs. Gore come to the less-than-startling conclusion that family composition has changed a lot. Most of us could have told them that, and saved them the trouble of writing a book.

We have things to pray about, my friend and I-personal concerns, national concerns-so we meet at the park to bear each other's burdens to the Lord. Fall is upon us, and the air almost too chilly for comfort, but we find a table under a picnic shelter, discuss the matters weighing on our hearts, share a few Scripture passages, and join hands to pray.