Such a sad week, Monday started with a funeral for Russ' cousins son ( a war veteren thanks to W) who died; and also Monday morning we found out one of Paul's classmates from high school died on Sunday. He went canoeing with his dad and drown. 17 years old. It hits home. I cried when I heard it on the news, not even knowing my son knew him. I cried for his mom, his dad who witnessed the tragic event. Just an accident. But are there any real accidents? So young, but needed in heaven. We sit here and try to make sense of it, but you can't. I remember when I turned 17, a classmate died on my birthday. He was buried a few days later, on his 17th birthday. Death of a classmate hits hard at 17. You are so young, so invincible. Your whole life ahead of you. It's hard to comprehend. I walked out of the house on Monday morning, leaves crunching under my shoes, the pinkish orange hue of the sun rising in the east, poking thru the clouds, the brisk fall air filling my lungs and my two sons walking with me to the car. I started to cry, I thanked God for being able to have both my children with me. I mourned for the mother who will never again be able to give one more hug, one more look at her son alive. I thanked God for letting me have that moment, for giving me two healthy kids, a husband who loves me and takes care of me. Its easy to blame God when something goes wrong, when you watched someone you love get taken so quickly from you, or even worse, to have to watch them suffer and wonder "why". It's also easy to say a quick "thank you" when you realize how good you have it. RIP Billy King, your impact on your classmates won't soon be forgotten.