*Note: I wrote this post a couple of years ago, after the Boston Marathon bombings. In the following months, my son had brain surgery, his friend's sister was diagnosed with leukemia, my daughter got an ulcer on a major artery and almost bled to death, and a friend of mine lost a daughter in a tragic accident up the canyon. And then last month our bishop and half his family went down in a plane crash, and my son asked me, "Why do so many things keep happening?" A part of me wanted to say, it could be worse. Things could be so much worse. We live in a little bubble of safety here below our Wasatch mountains. But I didn't tell him that. It wouldn't change the pain. Or the shock of each new thing. So I just said, I don't know. But there was this: my kids all wanted to stay a little closer to home and to each other for awhile. And whenever we saw one of our neighbors, we cried together. I still don't have an answer. But I think we all love ea