of course, I expected the world and my daughters to change. It’s nearly 30 years since I passed on. Still, I hardly recognize the place spa on every corner. Miniature telephones. And such race television programs and yet some things never change stubbornness pettiness families who fight. Like mine. Especially, my older daughter, Shelby. she stopped speaking. Hasn’t been home in years. And it’s not as if her romantic life is so great either she may be this hot shot journalist but she’s still 38 and a single as a sock in the dryer. Enough is enough I thought. There must be a way to get her to come home. Make nice with her father. Pal around with her adoring sister. Maybe even reunite with that little neighbor boy who never stopped loving her. One tiny problem. We’ve been warned about tinkering with divine intervention. But here’s a universal truth. Every mother in the afterlife knows whether dead or alive. The job never ends. so my darling Shelby that wake up call you hear tomorrow morning? It’s not the Ritz. Just a little help from above.