I feel so heartbroken for the families that lost their loved ones last week. I can't imagine what losing a child must feel like and in such a senseless, evil way. It breaks my heart to see the faces of the children who were killed and think of how terrified they must have been in those final minutes on Earth.
Craig and I were talking about it this weekend and I asked him if he had ever said his prayers with Brantley. He hasn't and I told him he should the next time he puts him to bed. Because he will never feel closer to God than having Brantley's forehead mashed against his, hands folded over his and hearing his sweet little voice saying, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep." We then pray for specific people who Brantley feels compelled to pray for (which sometimes includes Santa and deer and consistently includes Uncle Jake and my cousin Steve).
If I really thought about what his world will be like in five, fifteen, twenty years, it would terrify me. I want to keep his innocence and wonder in tacked for as long as I possibly can.
No comments:
Post a Comment