It was impossible to be around her and not enjoy yourself. I would come home from work some days and she and Kendra would be in tears from laughing so hard. They could find humor in anything. They called me once when I was out of town on travel to give me the blow-by-blow account of how they were ridding the backyard of rodents. The alternating screams and eruptions of laughter created quite the image in my mind. I’m sure my mental film footage did no justice to the actual scene unfolding on our lawn. Although I can’t right now, I know I’ll smile about that again for years to come. She was so selfless…She helped us paint to help our house feel like our home… and even though she hated to do it, when it was time for us to move, she helped us pack our home and prepare the house for the next family. I will remember her in that way. Always the friend. Always ready to lend a hand in whatever way necessary.

She was great with the boys. It’s sad that all we’ll ever have for them to see now are pictures… and she never got to meet Ethan. But all our “what-ifs” and “could haves” fail to compare to the pain and the void that her husband and their daughter are dealing with right now. This year would have been 20 years for those two. That is so rare, and so special… and her daughter… her daughter was her world. She truly embraced every moment of motherhood. She even took a part time job at her daughter’s school to be able to spend more time near her and be available during off school hours. Those two people who love her and need her are devastated today… and for that our hearts are broken. They are missing a very special person. She was amazing… I wish you could have met her. You would have loved her.

Please pray for our friends…

Kiss your kids.

The boys will have a new teacher. Life has called Mr. and Mrs. Robbins away to North Carolina. Mr. Robbins went ahead early. Mrs. Robbins stayed until the break. Then Jaden and Dillon had to say goodbye for now…and so did we. Our family forged a strong relationship with Mr. and Mrs. Robbins. We’ve been on the inside of that moving van several times. Now we’re the ones standing in the street waving and watching the taillights disappear over the horizon. It hurts like hell to drive away, but it sure feels hopeless standing there watching the van pull away. We haven’t lost a friend. But we’ve certainly lost an ally. I tell myself that part of this was inevitable, really. The boys would have graduated from 1st grade in a few months and moved on to 2nd grade.They would’ve met a new teacher and adjusted to the new environment. Kendra and I will still need to engage with that teacher and stay involved in the classroom. We would still have to create a new ally. That’s what I say. But that doesn’t really cover it, and the boys are losing more than a teacher.

Mrs. Robbins was part of their everyday world. She would come over to the house and watch shows with Kendra. She would listen intently to them as they described (in great detail) their adventures in Lego Star Wars and Indiana Jones games over dinner. She even jumped with them on the trampoline! This is significant. Invitations onto the trampoline are typically extended to dads (men) because the boys feel we can make them jump higher. Outside of Kendra, Mrs. Robbins is only the 2nd woman to have a standing invitation to jump with them. Point being, if you are not a dad and they want you on the trampoline, it is because they think you are fun and they like having you around. Some people’s love Language is Physical Touch, other people’s Love Language is Words of Affirmation. Jaden’s and Dillon’s Love Language is Trampoline.

Our boys are not the only kids in the class to feel this way. So many of them have personal connections with Mrs. Robbins. There were many sad faces and wet little eyes when the announcement was made. Mr. Robbins was a very unpopular man that day. But change is change. We find the positives and manage it the best way we can. The miles are there between us. So we stay in touch. Jaden and Dillon will play and enjoy the rest of their Spring Break…the boys have made note of the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Robbins will be visiting during the last week of school. Maybe they’ll be driving a van.

Thanks for coming along for the ride… Kiss your kids!

The realization of the gravity and actuality of the attack struck me as I watched the first tower fall. We had been going through our early morning ritual of getting ready for work and school when the news broke. We’d been listening and watching and answering panicked phone calls. It was very surreal, but it felt temporary…initially. Then I saw it fall. Until that point, I think I had been harboring hope that it would be over soon; that the damage could be undone; that lives could be saved. When the camera panned to the vacant space…my hope evaporated. Kendra, Logan, and I stood and stared at the mayhem. I thought about the view from the deck on top of the tower. We held Logan, not sure what to say. I wanted to tell him that everything was going to be alright. I may have even managed to say it. But I certainly did not believe that at the time.

We spent most of that day following the news. It was probably far more exposure than a 5 year old should have to that kind of horror, but we were transfixed and it was the reality of the day. We couldn’t turn it off… it was as if we were waiting for the horror to spread…for another attack…we watched and waited. I continued to think about the towers and the impossibility of it all. I had only visited them once, my uncle took us there in 1991 during a summer trip to visit my aunt and cousins. I can’t think of that place without thinking of him.

I cannot adequately describe the immensity and presence of the buildings. I was awestruck. I was so intimidated by the height and the thought of going all the way to the top that I struggled to walk through the doors and onto the express elevator at mid day beneath clear skies. How humbling it was to see men and women charging in force through the doors and up thousands of steps toward fire and smoke and the unknown. How heartbreaking to know so many were consumed by the collapse and that their lives, and the lives they sought to save, were taken. But how hopeful to see the figures in the streets covered in ash and soot, combing tirelessly through the rubble in search of loved ones…and strangers. There is the courage. And how inspiring to hear of the passengers that seized the opportunity to make a stand. There is the courage.

In the days that followed, we talked to Logan about the attack as often as he wanted to. Some days he had a few questions and had some thoughts to share; other days he wouldn’t bring it up at all. I tried to tell him about the World Trade Center…about the enormous elevator that rocketed us to the observation floor…about floor to ceiling windows that allowed you to look out across the city and, for those so inclined, to look straight down. I tried to tell him about standing on top of the building and feeling like I was in a dream. Endless visibility in all directions. No sensation of moving or swaying… feeling as firmly planted as if I was standing on the sidewalk down below…looking out into limitless possibilities… and sharing that vision with countless, nameless people from anywhere and everywhere. I wish he could have seen it.

While I mourn the loss of lives and the tainting of memories, and detest the cloud of fear and suspicion that has since settled upon our society, I try to dwell on the compassion and strength that was demonstrated in the wake of the attack and it helps me believe we can shake this funk and focus on those things again. And I am glad he did see that.

I will never forget the atrocity, but I will always remember the courage.

Thanks for sharing the memory… tell the ones you love you love ‘em.