The magic of small feet, hope to defeat the sadness.

I learned yesterday that a student I had last year gave birth to a new son on December 12th. I kidded her that she should name him "Twelve" as he was born on 12/12/12. Actually, her announcement and photos put a smile on my face. Life continues, life provides its precious moments, and life will always be a challenge. I know this student has wanted a child for some time and that the road has not been easy. The gift arrived two days before tragedy in Connecticut, and I see this as promise. We have to believe in good. Children deserve the best we can offer them.

And because I'm believing in good, I am hoping the best for my mother (note: these are definitely not her feet). She's struggling with a nasty cough, a bad hip, and breathing difficulties. I feel fortunate that my sisters and dad are with her, coaching her towards better health. I am also believing in good for my niece. She's having procedures tomorrow that couldn't wait until I was home to be with her. She knew how much I was looking forward to it.

As days move forward, I'm finding it harder and harder to rationalize local events and what our best responses should be. I know the  comfort comes from focusing on hope. And that is what I'm doing.

Little feet arrive. They crawl. They learn to walk. They begin to run. And some will step up to lead. With the announcement of every new child, a promise of hope is born. May he or she do a better job of making this world a more wonderful place to live tomorrow. May they find solutions that we've yet to discover.