Random thoughts for a Sunday One of my tall dark and handsome sons was combing his luscious hair while looking in the mirror as most of us were walking out the door to go to church – he did it again while gazing at the living room mirror on the way to the car – then again in the reflection of the van window upon arrival. This is the same son that not too long ago had to be deprived food unless he showered and be commanded to apply deodorant. How can the son who never puts anything away and whose room looks like the aftermath of a tornado be so concerned with other people’s inability to put their things away and will search the house for the owner of stray underwear he found in the bathroom? Why does someone knock on the bathroom door as soon as you enter the room? After spending the last thirty-some years of my life reading aloud to my children from various quality children’s literature, I cannot see a train without saying in my head, but often out loud, “A train, a