“Give me a kiss under the mistel-toe.”
My youngest came in a few minutes ago while I stared absent-mindlessly at the computer.
Not only was his pronunciation a bit off, his green sprig was a holly branch.
But I played along.
It doesn’t seem as if my two youngest children know anything of the horrific scenes out of Connecticut.
I wonder how much of life is like that?
People we encounter, the private hells they are living though — we have no idea.
My head swims with how precarious life is, how evil breaks through and destroys the most innocent . . . and all the while, my mistel-toe bandit blissfully slaps away on the iPad next to me.
I thank God for the horrors I know not of and pray for the families who suffered unspeakable lost today.
And all of us. I pray for mercy on all of us —