I think I've mentioned before that I'm not really an avid news reader. I go through phases of feeling a little ashamed of how relatively uninformed I am on some topics but hey, I figure if it's important enough it'll be all over twitter and Facebook anyway right?
Sometimes, though, there's a story that hits close to home - literally - and I can't avoid hearing about bad things. My husband's work colleague's son was in a terrible car accident last weekend and is facing a really long road to recovery. It sounds like he is stabilizing and there aren't signs of neurological damage so far, but I think it's unlikely he will ever physically recover fully from all his injuries. Certainly not enough that he will return to the career he was starting as a baseball pitcher in the minor leagues.
Now that I am a mother I automatically digest these stories from the perspective of the mother(s) involved. I cannot even imagine the horror you must feel getting that phone call. And yet somehow, in a small way, I think I would also feel a strange sense of validation: I was right to do all that worrying. When I allow myself to think about all the ways my children are vulnerable (as humans, as well as being small kids right now), the helplessness makes me feel angry. Angry that we can't lock them up, can't always be with them, have to figure out ways to help them navigate their way as safely as possible through life, all while knowing the worst can happen. Ugh.
Anyway, if you feel so inclined you could send some positive thoughts out into the universe for this boy and his family. And the old cliche goes without saying...hug your kids close and be happy that today wasn't a day you had to get that phone call.