My grandmother is a woman of prayer. She lays one hand on the top of my head, and she places the other on my shoulder. This is how she always prays over me. But even when I am not with her, I know she prays day after day, night after night without fail. She prays for me, my mother, my father, my two sisters, my three aunts, my three uncles, and my six cousins. The gravity of this truth, however, did not sink in until this past trip to Korea.

My grandmother prayed that I would be a woman of many dreams, a woman who would see those dreams fulfilled. She clung onto me and she said these words with conviction, with aspiration, with confidence. She said them as if these words were already true in my life, as if these words would certainly be true.

And so I say yes and amen and will believe that this is real.