There was a kidnapping in our neighborhood, about six blocks from my home.

The abductor was captured, the children are safe and home, and everyone’s senses are heightened.

And I can’t really think about that scene.
Not really at all, actually.

That’s too close to home,
in every sense of the word,
in every sense of my world.

News flash: Suburbia does not mean safe.

The profilers on the case determined that this abductor had been looking for a chance to take a child – or in the case of this kidnapping, two children.

I told the boys what happened.  They’ve got to know, they’ve got to be safe, they’ve got to be smart.  They’ve got to be.

Tyler suggested we put inside him an ink device that explodes all over him and the kidnapper if my child is too far from me.  That way, he tells me, everyone could know at a moment’s notice that he’s not safe, he’s not with a safe person, and he needs help – fast.

Sort of like the devices to prevent shoplifting in clothing stores.

Other than a few logistical hiccups, his idea is pure brilliance.  I’m not above it.

God, keep them safe.  Please, Jesus.  Keep them safe.

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