Psalm 61:2

If you have known me for more than a minute, it was safe for you to assume that I took today's news hard.

It took me four years to put Maddox in school because I live in constant fear and anxiety when it comes to the safety and well being of my children.

At times it is crippling.

So to say that I have cried all day, might be an understatement....

I cried first, for the obvious. 
The loss of life.

The grieving mothers, fathers, siblings and grandparents.

For the teachers who were less talked about in the shadow of the innocent babies... their spouses and children and parents who are so hurt and confused and empty.

Then because I have a sick way of putting myself in others' shoes and I pictured myself speeding to the school, unable to breathe and bathed in tears.

I couldn't get it out of my mind, those minutes (or maybe hours) where parents stood desperate wanting to know if their child had been spared.

And then those parents who were told the haunting news, devastated and changed forever.

The terror in that kindergarten classroom.

I absolutely hate to be scared and I can not stand to see fear on my children either.

I could see the tense little bodies and their confusion and despair... and in my head, it was my child needing me-- begging for me-- crying his high pitched fear cry, that he does when he is terrified.

I would get mad.

I would get sad.

I spent my day confused and broken.

And my cheeks bathed in salt water.

I had a headache that refused to budge under Ibuprofen and I was scared to take my blood pressure because I knew it was high and it would be one more thing to worry about.

My arm is sore because I held Beckham all day...

and my lap stayed warm because that's where I let Maddox perch.

My children were with me.

And well.

And happy.

I reminded myself that over and over.

This sick, evil, coward had me second guessing my decision at being a parent all together at times.

Why have I set myself up for so much heartache?

Why can't I control their every move, and protect them from evil and hatred?

I have said it before, and I will say it again:: It is absolutely terrifying to love something this much.

Thankfully, I married a man who does his best to pick up my crumbled pieces.

He doesn't try to glue me back together-- he knows better...

but he picks me up and puts me in his basket.

He takes away my control for a minute and makes me give my chaos to him.

I know that in a millisecond, or even half of that...

I would lay down my life for either of my children.

No questions asked, I'd trade my last breath for another one of theirs...

but I don't know that I could honestly say that for anyone else.

Even him.

But he...

he would for me.

I know that.

And crazy enough, I believe he'd do it for you too.

So today, I held my babies more than I usually do.

I didn't scrub my house.

We ate our tomato soup and grilled cheeses in my bedroom floor...

just because they asked.

I didn't get mad over the juice spilled on my carpet because it is replaceable.

I didn't tell Maddox he "was too big" when he wanted to be carried from the bath to the bed like I do Beckham.

I found myself adoring tiny details of their actions and expressions and words, that I would normally overlook.

I kissed them and told them I love them twice as much as I usually do.

(and if you know us, we already set records in the affection department.)

And I prayed for peace.

Today wasn't about me...

but this blog is a place for my thoughts.

I am so thankful for my healthy and happy and safe children...

and Lance and I (along with all of you) are praying for Newtown, Connecticut.

That's all we can do.