Uniting Children of Vietnam War Heroes

Today on Memorial Day 2010, I was so delighted to learn about a wonderful organization which was started 20 years ago to unite the children of the 58,260 men who were killed in the Vietnam War.

"Sons and Daughters in Touch" will celebrate their Dads' lives this Father's Day, June 20th, as they do each year on this special day, by gathering at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Wall at 10:00 a.m. in Washington, D.C.

Its leader, Tony Cordero, lost his dad when he was quite young and I commend him for providing such a heartwarming and healing opportunity for hundreds of thousands of children, who are now adults, who lost their fathers during the Vietnam War.

No one helps us heal better than another person who has walked in our exact shoes. They lived through seeing their Dad come home for short periods of time and be redeployed. They and their family members lived with the fear of not knowing whether he would return. Members of SDIT know exactly what it's like to walk in those shoes. And nothing could bring more comfort than sharing with a fellow survivor.

If you know of a family who survived the loss of a father, son, brother, uncle, cousin or other relative in Vietnam, please forward this information to them.

I applaud Mr. Cordero and the countless volunteers who help children, whatever their age, acknowledge their grief and celebrate the lives of their beloved Dads.

Hope For Haiti...For the Past 20 Years

While its very admirable that the Hollywood community would rally to raise funds for those affected by the horrendous aftermath of such an earthquake in Haiti last week, I'd like to make you aware of an organization which has been helping the Haitian people for over 20 years, which truly deserves your support.

One of the key concerns for families donating their hard-earned dollars is always that the funds contributed will do the most good for the purpose the money was given. That was my desire when I developed the Foundation for Grieving Children.

When such major telethons join with the Red Cross, United Way and others who have, in the past, shown they have so many tiers of administration or that the funds are not managed well, I personally look toward other non-profits whose motivation is a pure heart.

Consequently, I'd like to introduce to you an organization known as Hope for Haiti founded by a good friend, JoAnne Kuehner. Her husband and I are alumni of the University of Scranton and I learned of her work many years ago.

She has a pure heart toward the children and families of Haiti and has been doing this work for over 20 years. This is the type of organization which deserves our support.

Ironically, the telethon tomorrow night has the same name as her organization which has been doing this work long before the earthquake.

So I encourage you to consider sending any donation you choose to make for the survival of the people of Haiti to JoAnne's organization. They have successfully helped the Haitian people in the past and are already on the ground.

They know the land, the people, the needs, the politics. From my perspective, they have a much greater ability to get the job done more efficiently and effectively than any group which has spung up overnight since the earthquake. For these new organizations, it's a learning process. For JoAnne's organization, Hope for Haiti, it's commonplace.

In this day and age, it is necessary to use our donated dollars wisely. Give your gift to Hope for Haiti at www.hopeforhaiti.com. They will use your generosity with wisdom and speed and, most of all, much love.

Our prayers are with all who have endured this tragic event and all who have given of their time to help these families rebuild each shattered life.

God Bless the nation of Haiti and its people. And God Bless JoAnne and her team for the countless years of dedication toward this cause.

In The Blink of an Eye

Well it’s been an interesting few months for me personally. On Monday evening August 31st Frank and I were driving home when an “alleged” drunk driver plowed into us head on, leaving us both unconscious in a near fatal crash.

Fortunately we were taken to the number one Trauma Center in the area, Hackensack University Medical Center in New Jersey, and spent seven weeks there being treated by a phenomenal Trauma Team, Orthopaedic Surgeons, Nurses and Aides.

This one irresponsible act has caused a great deal of trauma, pain, countless broken bones and realigned life plans for both us and family members who have graciously risen to become caregivers to us. Frank remains in critical care at the hospital and I’ve recently moved to a rehabilitation facility to work toward my recovery.

But as I’ve laid staring up at ceiling panels (do you have any idea how many tiny holes they have in them?) in between three surgeries, blood tests, IV changes, XRays, CT Scans, several pints of blood, Physical Therapy, Occupational Therapy, mountains of paperwork, police visits, and the constant consultations with nurses, trauma doctors and surgeons, you have no choice but to reassess how to move forward. And after the morphine fog slowly dissipates, and through a lot of trial and error you figure out a new pain management system, you begin to make plans again.

My beloved Foundation for Grieving Children, aka as the F4GC (http://www.f4gc.org/), continues to receive just as many grant requests while I’ve been hospitalized. We’d like to fill as many as possible and to do this I need your help.

During the month of November, we are asking our valuable donors and brand new friends who are sympathetic to our cause, to make their best donation at this season and also to extend an invitation and encourage all their friends in their email address books, as well as their Facebook, MySpace, Linked In and other social networking site accounts to give at least $10.00 sometime before November 30th. That’s only two coffees or a lunch!

To make it more fun, for each $10.00 donation you will receive 2 chances to win a 32” Insignia TV donated by Best Buy, 529 Fifth Avenue at 44th Street in Manhattan. If you donate $50.00, you’ll receive 10 chances; every $5.00 gives you another chance for the prize.

There are two easy ways to give:

1. By credit or debit card through Facebook (whether you have a facebook page or not) http://www.causes.com/donations/select_donation_method?cause_id=224506 or by

2. Mailing a check to Foundation for Grieving Children, Inc., P.O. Box 3057, New York, NY 10163.

The winner’s name will be posted on our website (hopefully with their smiling face!). Funds raised in November will be sent out as grants in late December to non-profit organizations which assist, educate, counsel and comfort little ones who have experienced their parent, brother or sister, or grandparent’s death.

So please take some time this month as we move into the gift giving season to strongly encourage all your friends on Facebook, MySpace, Linked In, etc. and in your address book to make a donation before November 30th. (Simply send this link to them (http://www.askmarymac.blogspot.com/) Many thanks for spreading the word to everyone you know.

And a very special thank you in advance for your personal donation!

Blessings to you and your family,

Mary Mac
www.facebook.com/askmarymac
http://www.askmarymac.com/


P.S. If you haven’t yet signed up to receive our F4GC newsletter into your inbox, please do so by simply sending an email to f4gc@aweber.com and we’ll send you updates on what’s going on at the Foundation for Grieving Children. We promise not to flood you with emails because I can’t stand that either!! Just the facts madam, just the facts…

P.S.S. If you’d like to do even more, please put our cause on your personal Facebook page.

Loving So Deeply...It Hurts

I am reminded today of how deeply we grieve and why that really is the case. I believe we grieve so deeply because we loved so deeply. And when someone has loved so deeply they expose themselves to the vulnerability of feeling incredible pain when that loved one has died.

When we are falling in love with someone, there is little thought of all the pain they would eventually feel should their sweetheart leave them through death before they left the other person. We don't give it much thought.

And as years go by and relationships are built and good times are shared and intimacy is developed together, we rarely think of what might happen if that person was no longer with us. If we might lose them to death regardless of when that might be in our lives.

We rarely think it might be sooner than later. We go into relationships thinking we will be with that person until we are old and gray and don't give it much thought that there could ever be a chance they will die prematurely.

But sometimes this happens. We take years to find the love of our lives and never think anything would stop our living the dream together until our 70's, 80's or beyond. We look for the long haul. We look toward the ultimate...being happily together forever.

Yet what happens if forever is a few months, like when a fiancee is lost, or five years like when a new husband is killed, or like 10 years when the children are little and we need to raise them now alone, or 20 years like when the kids are grown and you thought you'd have the rest of your lives together with your sweetheart alone now.

And you find yourself in a situation where you never thought you'd be. You didn't anticipate being alone at this point in your life. You are in love. You still have the fire you had when you began and it was snatched out from you at absolutely the wrong time in your life. There was so much life to still live.

I guess the greatest gift we can give those whom we love desperately is to always honor them, be kind to them and act as though they may not be here tomorrow. If we are kind and loving each and every day and let the nonsense slip away, we will never regret a thing of how we loved them. How we made them the center of our world. How we took the chance to completely and enthusiastically take them into our lives and love them without reservation.

Scary...oh yes. To open yourself up to that level of vulnerability seems crazy in the moment. But there needs always to be a time when we know deep down in our core that this person is my honey...my soulmate. He/she is the one I want to spend the rest of my life with and I am willing to take the chance to love them unconditionally knowing full well that we could lose them at any time.

But not having loved them would be so much more painful than taking the chance of loving them regardless of our past pains and losses. It takes courage to love again. It takes courage to live again.

And it is possible...

Paris Jackson...What Grief Looks Like

Regardless of whether you enjoyed Michael Jackson's music, admired his career and his life, or not, he must be given credit for raising such wonderful children.

On Thursday, at his memorial service, the world saw very clearly what a grieving child looks like. Paris Jackson, in all her pain, mustered the courage to speak for herself and her brothers about their Dad and the man he was to her and them.

For a young child to decide it was so important to let the world know what her father meant to her, speaks volumes of the way she was raised and the love she felt for her Dad.

I was amazed at the continued reactions by the media covering the event. I guess for me, who has seen the enormous effect the death of a loved one can have on a child, it seemed slightly insincere. Inside I was thinking, "have they not ever witnessed someone in deep pain before? Had they never, in all their years of reporting, not seen real, raw emotions when a person knows this particular day will change their life forever? Had they never know the death of someone close to them in their life yet?"

Grieving children are everywhere. Sometimes we get to see it up close and Paris gave the world a very clear picture of what that level of pain is like. For a short, very personal, moment, she allowed the world to see just what the loss of a father can do.

While she may not know it, her courage and her comments have helped millions better understand the devastating emotions that will undoubtedly continue to rise up for her and her family in the weeks, months and even years to come.

Grief is never easy...it is not pretty...at times it's even messy, because all of us grieve differently and at different times. And the unnerving thing about it is that until we're in the thick of it ourselves we rarely will know how and when we will react to it.

So I applaud Paris Jackson's courage. For with her very brief comments she helped the world better understand that a child's grief is real and difficult and yet, when expressed, can have a powerful impact on others.

Can't We Bury Our Heroes in Peace?

When I first heard the story of protestors disrupting the funeral services of our military men and women I thought it was a mistake. Then I found out it was true.

It seems that radical groups are picketing with signs at the burials of our heroes who have served our nation and died to keep us free. Don't they understand that it was they who died specifically to give us this amazing gift to actually have the right to speak out. But please folks...

When a family is at the most vulnerable time in their lives...when they have lost someone who meant the world to them, their parent, sibling, child, the last thing they need is a group of ignorant folks intruding on their pain.

What angers me so is that there seems to be a line that keeps getting crossed which raises the stupidity bar higher and higher. Not to mention the disrespectful bar.

If my grandmother was alive, she'd say "Now how were these people raised?" and I would agree with her. Having the audacity to think that your political views are more important than respecting the privacy of a family who is burying their loved one is completely beyond me.

I don't care what you stand for, whether you try to declare it's your free speech rights, there is absolutely no reason a person with any conscience would additionally and intentionally cause more grief than was necessary for any family who had lost a loved one.

I grew up learning the Golden Rule...do unto others as you would like them to do unto you. It seems to me if all of us would abide by that lesson, we might just pass along some kindness to our fellow human being. And with all the additional stress that our declining economy and the world has stirred up, it seems we would all welcome a bit more kindness into our lives.

Neda - The Angelic Face of Desired Freedom

How can anyone not be moved by the struggle for freedom that is happening now in Iran. So many young people yearning to have their country break free from the oppression that has taken over their lives for decades now by radical clerics and men striving for ultimate power over all Iranian citizens.

When a religious leader declares himself 'the supreme leader' that says something. When a military is raised against its own people, that says more.

I'm sure on that fateful day, Neda and her friends never expected that she would be killed nor become the symbol of potential freedom for an entire nation. I'm sure her family never expected that she wouldn't be coming home that evening to love and embrace them. I'm sure all who loved her, along with the rest of the world, would never have expected she would become the angelic face of desired freedom for a people who have longed for it.

I have dear friends who are Persian. They still have family back in Iran and they tell me stories about how women were doctors and lawyers and after the revolution in 1979 they were no longer allowed to practice their skills. Can you possibly imagine going to four years of medical school, three years of law school, work in your profession and then one day the government and religious leaders decree you are no longer able to participate in society on a professional level? Would a man stand for that? Unlikely. But that is the type of oppression that they brave people have lived under for all these years.

I remember when Iran was taken over by these radicals. I had just finished college. It took us 444 days to have our prisoners released from their hands and it came on the heels of the inauguration of President Reagan. It started on November 4, 1979 and ended on January 20, 1981. At his inaugural luncheon he announced how the prisoners had left Iranian airspace on their way to a military base in Germany. It was a very happy day in our country that our fellow citizens were no longer in their hands.

But what about all the people in Iran who live under this regime each day. I can't imagine what that might feel like in our country. So much of our lives here in the USA are slowly being taken away from us and our countrymen are starting to raise their hands in protest. It's a good thing to not allow a few to kill the spirit and determination of many. But that's another's day's blog.

I honor the family of this young girl who, unknowingly, gave her life for a cause greater than herself. And while her family cannot even give her a proper burial, I, and many other Americans and citizens of other countries around the world, do send out our condolences to them and hope they know she is now with her loving God.

Memorial Day 2009

I had the pleasure of reconnecting with a very dear friend of mine recently in anticipation of our undergraduate college reunion in just a few weeks. (Simply can't tell you which one...just too shocking even for me to acknowledge!!)

Anyway, my friend Tom and I both grew up on Long Island and, since at that time their weren't too many folks going to our college from that far away, we became great friends who ultimately would travel home together for weekends.

Tom owned a great little Fiat...you know the kind that made you feel every bump in the road and felt like you were driving inches from the ground...which, of course, you were! So every so many weeks, we'd get together and calculate, based upon exams and activities, which weekends would work out well to travel back home together.

Well, my dear friend Tom, was a practical joker and little Miss Gullible would buy into it every time. One weekend as we're heading home and already on the road, he informs me that he left his wallet at the dorm and since both of us had so little money as college kids, we were in a bad way trying to figure out what to do about the tolls through the Delaware Water Gap in Pennsylvania and the George Washington Bridge to get from New Jersey to New York.

So here we were...no money and, at least for me, a lot of nerves. When we drove through the Delaware Water Gap's 25 cent toll I thought, "what's the most they can do to two college kids for 25 cents?"

But when we came close to GWB, Tom tells me to duck down because he decided to run the toll and since I knew there were those gates that came down in front of each car, all I could imagine was all this wood flying everywhere and some massive group of highway patrolmen chasing us across this huge bridge which crosses over the Hudson River. You know, something out of a movie.

So here we go coming close to the bridge and I remember to this day how nervous I was and thinking if I got a black mark like this on my life, I'd never get a job! Crazy kids.

As instructed, I ducked down low in the seat asking along the way how far we were to the bridge. Tom would update me. Finally, as we get closer he tells me he's going to run through the gate. I'm freaking out, as visions of wood and windshield glass flying everywhere is racing through my mind.

Seconds later I hear a woman toll taker say..."Thank you," and this 'ding' that proclaims the money has been taken, and I realize my dear friend Tom has tricked me again, only this time over the length of a two hour drive. I thought I would die. All he could do was laugh as I screamed at him. I thought I would kill him. And if I recall I did hit him a few times.

So why am I telling you about this funny story...because my friend Tom, I have just learned, is a proud Veteran of the United States Military. While at college, he was a ROTC (Reserve Officers Training Corp)...definition: college students who receive training as military officers for future service in the armed forces.

While a young gal in the sixties (oh, well so much for hiding my age!), I saw my classmates' older brothers coming home in bodybags from Vietnam. I saw others coming home injured and some had great difficulties coping with life after war. And I was so sensitive to their pain because our country was in such turmoil during that war and I never felt it was right that our citizens punished those who served.

And in my first conversation with Tom in these several decades, I learned he served in Bosnia and Iraq. And I will have the privilege of driving up to our college reunion with him soon to catch up and hopefully he will share much about his life that I have lost out on.

Today in the USA it's Memorial Day, when we honor and remember those who lost their lives in service to our country and gave the ultimate sacrifice. Let us remember them and their families who miss them.

Let us also salute all the men and woman who now protect and defend us because we can't, and to their families who have sacrificed much while they are serving and when they come home. I, for one, am an American who is eternally grateful.

These are strong, brave and talented men and woman who put themselves in harms' way so we might live in this country and enjoy all the liberties we have. The liberty to create businesses as we will, the liberty to speak out against our politicians as we will, the liberty to live where we wish, the liberty to spend our money as we wish, the liberty to vote for those we believe it without having the barrel of a gun pointed at us.

All these very special people give us these liberties that other men from other lands have died to partake in. Let us acknowledge their sacrifice and emotional and physical pain. Let us address all their needs when they arrive back home. Let us honor them today and always, as I do, by walking up to them at the airports and elsewhere and simply saying "Thank you for serving for me."

Yes, it's been a long while since September 11th, 2001, but we all know how life changed from that point on. And while we have been blessed not to have experienced another major event on our own soil, our military has kept that at bay.

So I am looking forward to hearing all of Tom's stories when I see him in a few weeks. And I bless him and the members of all our military branches for their devotion to our country, the United States of America, and its fine people.

Death of a Child...Age is Unimportant

Greetings!

As I read some of the recent posts to the Grieving Hearts group, it will always be true that no matter when a family loses a child they feel deep sadness for the inability to have seen that child grow beyond the years of their death.

It doesn't matter whether they were an infant, a teenager, or a 42 year old. It only matters that for their family they won't have the joy of seeing what they would have done with their life, all the experiences they would have had from that point on and the person they would have become later in life.

When an infant dies the entire cycle of life is considered. All the pleasure of raising that child, watching them grow into a fine young man or woman. Seeing them graduate high school and college. Perhaps seeing them marry and birth children of their own.

Yet when it's a 42 or even 52 year old child to an older parent, that parent deals with all the additional years they would have had with their child. They also think of how they counted on their child to take care of them in the latter stages of their life.

Regardless of the number of missing years that a parent no longer has the privilege of experiencing, the pain is still great and the hole in the heart still remains. But over time, as grieving and anquish subside, there is a place where it turns to celebration and gratitude for one's life, however long they happen to be with us.

Exactly What Were They Thinking...

One of the continual complaints grieving people have is the insensitivity of others to their pain. And yesterday in lower Manhattan we saw a perfect example of this. (Read more here.)

In an attempt by US Government Officials in Washington to get promotional pictures of Air Force One near Lady Liberty, they inadvertently frightened hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers who work in the World Trade Center area.

I guess the first word that comes to mind is stupidity. Then my thoughts lead toward incomprehension as to how a government official would not have considered that this act would bring up significant pain to those still sensitive to what happened in NYC on September 11th.

Would it not have crossed their minds that they should do everything in their power to notify all New York officials and make it public knowledge so there would be no panic. Instead our folks in Washington told the NYPD to keep it confidential. And no one even told NYC Mayor Bloomberg!

Ironically, this is National Crime Victims' Rights Week in the USA. We celebrate and remember the lives of those who have been murdered in our country...those who have been raped, abused, assaulted or harmed through the violence of another person.

The citizens of our country, but particularly the citizens of NYC who lived through 9/11 and the after affects and emotional strain, have that day tucked away in their psyches. It is a tender place and we don't need to assault it in any way.

Perhaps our government officials can please review their need for PR photos at the expense of increased anxiety and emotional turmoil in the lives of thousands of New York and New Jersey residents.

How It All Began

About a half hour ago my printer spontaneously circled as if to print a document, but none had been requested. Whenever something like this occurs, being so in tune to spiritual happenings, I sat back to wonder what this was about.

After asking out loud for clarity, it occurred to me that on this day thirty-six years ago I lost the first person who ever meant anything to me. The first person who had made such an impact on my life and who, unknowingly, would usher me into this field of study and my profession.

At the tender age of 12, while he was 15, the nephew of my neighbor and I became close friends and he ultimately became the first 'crush' I experienced. And while Paul and I were looked upon as 'forbidden' because of the differences of our age, he was such a wonderful guy and friend who I cared for deeply.

We'd play Iron Butterfly's songs and scream the lyrics across the room, help me babysit little ones, watch him study the guitar and try to master difficult songs, taught me wonderful dance steps and just had lots of fun laughing at his funny jokes. And like teenagers do, we stayed on the phone much too long and wrote silly letters to each other.

As fate would have it, he and his family moved away and we became penpals back then. Both he and I went on to meet other wonderful people, but his life would forever impact mine a few years later.

On this day, April 14, 1974 Paul was hit broadside and killed by a drunk driver at the tender age of 19 while pulling out of his driveway. I knew he died in the late afternoon, but when the printer circled at 4:35pm something made me believe it could have been just then.

So I sat back in my chair and just had this simple conversation with him as if his spirit was surrounding me at this very moment. And even all these years later, I filled up with tears because I can still see him in the coffin and how paralyzed I was sitting on the sofa in the funeral home looking at a person who had meant so much to me and it was not registering as to how he could possibly be dead at 19.

Over the years I have wondered how his family had been and what all became of them. I can only imagine how it affected his parents whom I didn't get to see again.

But this little sign I believe he sent to me today had in its own way comforted me and reminded me that not only has he not forgotten me, but that no matter where we go in life, the people we love and have lost will always shown themselves to us. Their spirits live on.

This lovely, simple confirmation and remembrance today, for me, though bittersweet, reassures me that there is something after this life which we will all reach. And one day we will be greeted by all those who went on before us and when that happens what a heavenly party we'll have!

When a Moment Changes Your Life Forever

When I reflect on the devastating plane crash near Buffalo, New York that killed 50 people this past Thursday evening, I tend to notice how fragile life can be. We go about our business each day anticipating that we'll wake up with all our family and friends in tact, and go to bed with the same understanding.

We enjoy their company, organize life plans with them, graduate schools and colleges, get married, have babies, raise good children, see them get married and have babies and raise good children all the while believing it will continue this way in perpetuity.

But for some people, like the families who suddenly and so unexpectedly lost their precious loved one in such a horrific tragedy, their 'normal' lives were shattered in one single moment. Just one. A moment that will forever change how they see life, how they adapt to life, how they cope with change and how they will rebuild all they've ever known.

Nothing is more disconcerting that change. We fight it in our everyday life, but we aren't far from it. We fight it on our jobs, we fight it in relationships with family and friends, we fight it within ourselves when we realize something better could become available to us if we'd only allow ourselves to change.

But with changes come fear. Fear that we won't get it right. Fear that it has to come out perfect. Fear that when all is said and done, it won't be the same as before. And you know what...you're right. It won't be the same.

And when tragedy strikes, somehow all that nonsense that came before seems so completely trivial. That was baby stuff compared to this. This is serious. This is sudden. This is shocking. This is real.

So when I meet folks who are so concerned about money and stuff and games they play with other people's emotions, at this point in my life it's almost laughable. When you have lived through such tragedy as I have in the past and the families of this flight will now endure, you instantaneously get an entirely new perspective on life.

Right now for them, absolutely nothing else matters. The only thing they are now consumed with is dealing with the shock and disbelief that this is happening to them. That the person who they loved so much is no longer here. That they won't get to call them to share good news anymore. That they won't get to share in all their future accomplishments. That they won't be able to hug and physically love them any longer.

So let us be especially mindful that life is incredibly short. In a blink our lives could change forever. Let us be kind toward others. Let us be loving. For one day, it will be our turn to endure a painful loss.

The Courage Behind SuperBowl 2009

Although I was so happy the Pittsburgh Steelers pulled it out at the very end of what turned out to be one of the best superbowls I've seen in a while, I couldn't help but feel so much pride for the crew who saved 155 lives in the Hudson River last month or feel so much compassion for Jennifer Hudson's courage that day.

On a very busy day in January, working from home, I found myself with binoculars in hand watching an airliner floating in the Hudson River. Having a ring-side seat to such an event is something you don't easily forget. Add to that a friend was traveling to Miami that day and as I didn't have his flight number, naturally I felt a little panicked, until that blessed text came in that he was safe and actually scheduled to be on a private jet instead.

I remember when members of the media were interviewing the survivors who would speak with them, each was asked how they felt they had made it out safely and every single one of them thanked or acknowledged that it was God who pulled them through. Every one.

It will never cease to amaze me how we always seem to acknowledge and call on Him when we're in a frightening place, but rarely have time for him otherwise. Someone once asked me why I thought we tend to call out to Him in crisis, and I told them I felt it was because inherently we know where we came from, and whose we belong to.

So when the crew was acknowledged at the SuperBowl I was quite pleased. Because we don't have many 'real' heroes amongst us any longer, it was wonderful that they were praised for their heroism, especially the captain whose skill and calmness of mind delivered all those men and women back safely into the arms of those whom they love.

And as for Jennifer Hudson...what can I possible say except that I welled up with tears as I stood at attention while she sang. I remember very clearly after my stepdaughter was murdered what was going on inside just a few months afterwards. It was a chaotic time, a time of numbness and confusion and trying to keep it all together. It was a very surreal time and you are unsure of your footing, just trying to function and moving one step in front of the other.

Her great faith will undoubtedly help her during this most difficult time in her life. To lose three family members at once is hard enough...to lose them all to murder in an entirely different thing.

Her performance was flawless and her composure amazing. I held my breath for her. And I pray that she will feel all that love that surrounded her that day when the bubble that's cushioning her starts to ease.