Welcome back, sanity.

Alright, guys. I don't know about you all, but I'm tired of all the mushy crying that's been going on in this blog lately. What is with me??

Dad and I have giant philosophical discussions when we're in the pool, and he finally got the algae out of the pool last night, so we talked. Usually this means argue, but last night we were just so happy to get to go swimming, that we kept things pretty calm. I told him about Hanna, and he went off, just a little, on me. He said when Chris asked, Sunday in church, for prayers for Allie (who is doing amazingly well all of a sudden - thanks for the prayers!!!) that his first thought was, "I hope Cindy and Chris haven't sent them a bunch of money yet." He is about the age where the paranoid suspicions start running rampant, and he figured it was just a big lie to get money. I was able to convince him otherwise, I think, but then he said some things that I thought were pretty profound.

He said, "Don't be telling me about any more of these babies who are sick and dying. I have enough to worry about with my own family. Why do they have to put this crap all over the internet, and why do you and Chris have to go looking for it?"

"But, Dad, that's ridiculous. These people just want prayer and support and it makes them feel good to know that other people are praying for their sick babies. And we didn't go looking for it, it's one of the babies off the baby boards," I told him, getting a little hot under the bathing suit strap.

"Ok, then," he said. "But why are your all's prayers necessary? I'm one of those people who think that my prayers are just as important as anyone else's, and if I pray for something, why do you need to pray for the same thing?"

I argued a little more, and he eventually agreed that praying for them wouldn't hurt. But it made me rethink about how involved I'm letting my emotions get for children who I will never meet, when, like Dad said, there are thousands of children in even worse condition that I'm not praying for, at least specifically, and for whom I'm not spending hours crying.

In fact, I'm being self-indulgent and extraordinarily selfish by getting torn up by the suffering of these children. For this new pity is born of the way I THINK I would feel if something happened to Izzy. I should not flatter myself by imagining how deeply it would hurt, or how brave I might be able to act. No matter what I might imagine, I could never truly empathize, and it's egotistical to think I could. I am deeply sorry for these children and their families, and I'm sure that will never change, but there is enough heartbreak and sadness in the world without me going on and on about it.

So I'll try to not let my weepy mommy side interfere anymore. That won't happen, of course, but you should be safe for at least today.