I used to be a killer. I was ambitious and driven and professionally competitive. I wrote probing profiles of people, covered political campaigns, Washington social life and different cultures outside of this country. I took no prisoners. Everyone and everything was fair game. It was all about getting the story, getting it first, getting it best and getting read. I have to say that I believed that I was exposing the bad guys for who they were and recognizing the good guys. People liked reading what I wrote. Nevertheless, things and people seemed much more black and white in those days than they do to me now, much simpler. A lot of people got hurt in the process. I never really felt good about that.

My mother and my father were my guiding lights. They totally believed in me, believed that I could accomplish anything I set out to do. My father was a general, a war hero, someone with enormous integrity and a belief in his country and in right and wrong. My mother was the most wonderful person I’ve ever known. She was kind and loving and generous. Everyone adored her. When people met me, after I had started working as a reporter for the Post, they would look at me stunned. “You’re Bette Quinn’s daughter?” But your mother is so nice!” There was always a little voice in the back of my head that said, “But I’m nice too.” My mother never had a career, but I wanted to be admired the way she was, not the way I was.

Then I got married and I had my son Quinn when I was almost 41. He was born with a heart defect and had open heart surgery when he was three months old. That was only the beginning. From then until the time he was sixteen, he had more surgeries and medical problems than I can count. He was also severely learning disabled and had to go to special schools all of his life. My professional life came to a standstill for years while I stayed at home to take care of him. It never occurred to me to do otherwise.

It was only after he had gone away to a special boarding school for children with learning disabilities that I began to go back to work part-time. But it was never with the same drive and purpose that I had had before.

Without even realizing it my priorities had changed. What I cared about most was being a good mother. When Quinn was eight my mother had a series of massive strokes and ended up partially paralyzed and with minor brain damage. I had to move her and my father into a retirement community and hire a full-time nurse. She lived 12 more years. Caring for her and being a good daughter suddenly became one of my top priorities.

My husband retired as editor of the Post 16 years ago, moving upstairs to become Vice President at Large of the paper. He had already lost his parents. Since then he has lost his brother and sister and most of his closest friends. Our marriage has only become stronger as life changed for him. There is a 20-year difference in our ages and now my priority is to be a good wife.

I could not have gone through all of these changes without my many wonderful close friends. I don’t believe in one-way streets when it comes to friendship. I wanted to be as good a friend to them as they are to me. They are there for me and I am there for them.

More than anything however, as I get older, what means the most to me is the idea of being the most authentic person I can be, to be a truly good person. Of course I want to be happy. And I found that, even in the early days, what makes me the happiest is making other people happy.

Which bring me, ironically, back to the question of my career. Several years ago I began exploring religions. I had been an atheist all of my life and was becoming more and more interested in the question of faith. It seemed that there was nothing that I covered, nothing that mattered that didn’t intersect somehow with faith, be it politics, foreign policy, or the environment, not to mention people’s motivations, their values, their ethics, their morals. After much study I changed my mind about being an atheist. I would only describe myself now as a seeker.

What I discovered is that one of the biggest problems caused by religion throughout the world is the lack of understanding by people, not only of the beliefs of others but the lack of understanding of their own. This inevitably leads to a lack of sympathy and compassion. This ultimately led me to embark on a new project as moderator of this web site “On Faith” along with Jon Meacham. The idea for the site was to create a dialogue so that people of all beliefs will have a chance to learn and understand each other.

Nothing I have ever done in my life has given me more satisfaction or sense of fulfillment. I am completely engaged and passionate about the subject and the potential it has for change for the good. I have never met so many interesting people, had so many great conversations, or learned so much in the last year. The most important thing I have learned is a respect for the beliefs of everyone as long as they don’t impinge on each other or me.

Life is filled with suffering or dukkha as the Hindus call it. Whatever gives you solace, whatever gives your life meaning, whatever helps you make it through the night is nothing less than a blessing.

For me, it is my son, now 25, my husband, my friends, and my work. I feel enormous gratitude for how lucky I am, from the moment I wake up until the moment I go to bed. Oh yes, and dancing. I started dancing about two years ago and it is now a sacrament in my life. It gives me great joy and a sense of exhilaration. Whenever I dance I feel that anything is possible, that no matter how bad things may get, life will go on. A quote from the famous Rabbi Hillel best expresses how I feel.

“I walk, I fall down, I get up. Meanwhile, I keep dancing."