Cherish.

I had already uploaded all of these photos I took today to blogger before I'd heard about what happened this morning.  It doesn't seem right that I can post what was meant to be simply a happy little post without expressing my deep sadness for the people who lost their babies today, and also those who lost their mothers, and perhaps fathers, too. (I don't know if dads were wounded or not, yet.) I can't imagine the unspeakable pain the families and the community must be feeling right now.  I picture them now, crying and grieving, shocked and angered, bewildered and heartbroken.  I hate this.  

After I put the kids down for bed, I got on my computer and that's when I first read the headlines.  My heart broke a little more as I saw each new image of grieving parents and children.  I don't remember the lost time I sobbed, but tonight I did. I sit here typing with tears clouding my vision and my hand over my mouth at times.  My heart absolutely aches for those parents and for the loss they now have to suffer from this evil act. Beyond the parents, I thought about my nieces who are between the ages of five and ten. This could have been their school. This could have been them.  I do not know how I would have been able to explain such a loss to my son.  He is absolutely head-over-heels for those girls.  Caroline is brought up excitedly on nearly a daily basis.  Somewhere in Connecticut tonight, I'm sure, there is a little boy whose idol and cousin was just taken from this earth. I hurt for that little cousin. My heart breaks for that little cousin.  It also breaks at the reality that a loss of  innocence, as President Obama said, was taken today from the children who survived.  Those poor babies. 

When all of this was happening this morning, I was reading books with my kids, racing cars around the floor, and trying to come up with new games for the cars to play with Julian. Today we went to the park. We played tag. We made Christmas cookies, we pretended, we painted, we went on a Christmas light walk (and race!).  Julian's prayer before dinner went like this: "Dear Heavenly Father, thank thee for this wonderful day. Thank thee that Jesus came back to life and that the bad guys didn't take him away. djfkhsdfghjdf (incoherence)...etc... In the name of Jesus Christ, amen."  I am grateful today was such a savory one with my children.  I can't wait until tomorrow when I can hug and kiss them again.  Julian has the softest cheeks ever. Ella Grace has the most infectious smile.  They are so precious, and I am so grateful for them.

 I am at a loss of what else to say, except that this tragedy could have been mine and yours. May we pray for the families who lost their entire worlds tonight and tomorrow, and not forget to send up prayers on Christmas, too. And may we cherish the moments God grants us to spend with the children in our lives. May I ever cherish these faces.