"My husband would ask every day what I needed. I couldn't tell him. I didn't know." 

Finally the helplessness eroded what had been a joyful marriage. People used to say he worshipped the ground she walked on. Theirs was a sweet love story. But depression robbed them of it.

I have thought about that over the years. What is it like to not know what you need? 

How much do any of us know what we need? Sometimes in retrospect we can acknowledge that what looked like a tragedy became a blessing. One friend told me that losing everything they had in a house fire was indeed a blessing. It brought them together and recalibrated their priorities. 

Many women in my special moms group express the transformation that having a child with disabilities brings. Certainly our family has experienced compassion and patience at a new level. Some of our kids have held up new boyfriends or girlfriends against the litmus test of "Are they kind to Benjamin?"

Having a mother with mental illness took its toll on her children yet I have an unshakable feeling that we gained more than we lost. If you had told me that when I was fifteen I would have slammed a few doors in your face, but now that Mom is safely past the confines of her earthly constraints, it feels like a fair trade.

Thirteen years ago I didn't know that I needed twins, but God did. They have brought me more happiness than could fit in an ocean liner, and I shudder to think I might have missed it. 

Solomon was a wise man. Some said the wisest on earth. But even he willingly admitted his own ignorance about what he needed. He did at least know that he was desperately in want of a listening heart. That is a pretty good place to start a wish list.