But For The Grace Of God Go I

Dear Laney and Hagen,

It's been an emotional few days. Yesterday, a man went into an elementary school in Connecticut and killed 26 people, 20 of them children. We can talk about it when you're old enough to read this. The Wall Street Journal posted some tips on how to talk to children about the events, and suggested that parents make sure their responses are "age appropriate." Let me tell you: I'm 36, and I'm having a hard time dealing with it.

This morning, we all got in the car to drive to town for your dad's Wreaths Across America ceremony. I was driving, and he was sitting in the passenger seat, practicing his speech. Nat King Cole's "The Christmas Song," came on the radio, and I just started sobbing. It hit me all at once that - like us - those families probably have basements full of wrapped toys with their children's names on them, and a stocking for each of those children on their mantels, and... it was just too much.

On Christmas morning, I will get to watch Laney open her first bicycle. Hagen will get a Little People garage. And I will be the luckiest woman in the world.

__________________

I dropped your dad off to meet his cadets, and I dropped you guys off at Grandma Sue's, because she was going to watch you while we went to the ceremony. As I headed back to meet up with your dad at the cemetery, I decided to drive through Starbucks and pick up a few coffees. When I pulled up to the window to pay, the barista said, "It's taken care of. The car in front paid for you." I don't know why it hit me like it did - maybe I'd been looking for a sign of goodness in the world. I gave him all my cash and told him to pay for the cars behind me. I like to think that the chain continued all morning. Wouldn't that be nice?

___________________

The Wreaths Across America ceremony was brief but poignant. Your dad made a little speech, and the cadets put a wreath on as many graves as they could, saluting each as they went.

I met a family who had lost their brother and son in Afghanistan. His name was Daniel Bartle, and he was a helicopter pilot. Your dad put a pair of his own aviator wings on Daniel's wreath.

Tonight, I will share a bed with your dad and listen to him snore and I'll have to fight for my share of the comforter. And I will be the luckiest woman in the world.

Love,
Mom