No. This isn't going to be an intense, sobering post like the ones I've written lately. And I should thank all of you now, bloggers and friends for all your wise and supportive comments and words. I think our discussion of broken children and the like was incredibly stimulating and illuminating. The last few days have been a time of great contemplation for me as I mused about everything written and felt a renewal of peace and even resolve in myself.
But I've just peeled myself up off of my bed where I've been lying the past hour, propped up by pillows and pretending to be absorbed, with my son Oliver, in this book:
And that's why the title of this post is HEROISM.
(and the photo at the top is a candid shot of my boys destroying our gingerbread village that we made before Christmas in what has become known as The Annual Gingerbread Stomp.)