Babies Mine ... and Yours

I write this with an unbelievably heavy heart.  Last Thursday night, as our children happily trick or treated throughout our neighborhood, two teenagers were hit by a car just blocks from our house.  One boy was the older brother of Hannah's friend, the other his best friend.  One boy lived, the other, tragically, died.  It is every parent's worst nightmare. As with many things in life, it is hard to truly appreciate what you have until you have lost it.  I know that everyone in my neighborhood is hugging their children a little tighter this week as we all play the "what if it were me?" game.  I am proud to be a part of a neighborhood that has been working tirelessly to come up with a way to show our care and love for the family of the boy who died.  Nothing that we do will ever make their world whole again, but I would like to think that our outpouring of concern will offer them some small comfort in the short term, along with a tangible memorial forever.  Much as snow in October, I simply can not wrap my mind around such a loss on such an innocent night of childhood. I have always known that my life is so very blessed;  I only pray that I can learn to live each day fully in gratitude knowing that in the blink of an eye everything can change.