All the local and city television news shows covered a news item this morning. A man confessed to abducting his child, an infant girl, from her mother's home, and driving to the Driscoll Bridge in New Jersey, and throwing the child - to her death - into the chilly waters, below. That bridge has safely carried me and countless others to the "Jersey shore" - for weekends and vacations at pretty, clean beaches many a joyful journey.

My heart is breaking, as I listen the "watch/don't watch," commentary in my mind. I want to know what might have ever caused this man to act this way, yet I don't EVER want to know what evil like this looks like, acts like, sounds like, or IS like...for I will always carry longing in my heart, in the very fiber of my being, in my smile, my tears and in all I do, for a little boy named Andy who died at age 4-1/2 in an accidental drowning. His parents - us - never saw the danger coming, didn't ever imagine that sweet, innocent play with snowshovels could turn into a tragedy that grey, January day in 1976. We cry, yet are powerless to overturn that tragedy - to reverse the events and the outcome. This man had that power.

How can - how WILL - this man live with what he says he has done? At what moment could he have changed his mind - sought help, returned to his car, with the precious, dependent life in his hands, and not done what he did. How different the outcome if he had sought help, rather than acting on whatever anger or delusion drove him thus.

Our minister once told us that we should ask God for forgiveness for our sins, and, if we were truly repentant, he would hear us, and we would be forgiven, and go on in his name, as his children.

We asked our minister, then, what to do if we could not forgive someone. He said we should bring our request - our fervent prayer - to God, and ask him to forgive this person.

I truly hope God can forgive this man, who, otherwise will be a wandering, empty soul, a shallow vessel without any substance, purpose or future. Such existence would be as a vacuum. I can't imagine such a life, when life is meant to be cherished with all our being, with all the gifts God gives us - gifts we should share, nurture and celebrate. Even if we sometimes struggle with choices, pain, worry or fear, we are complex beings with the ability to make choices, and there are so many available to us.

I can only pray - this day - that while the God I trust and pray to might forgive this man, that God also receive the innocent life in his tender grasp - that she never knew she was thrown away, but knows the peace and innocence of being cradled in the arms of her forever father.

From Where I Sit - "Drive by Photography"

I love to write, and, as the youngest child of two columnists and the admiring sibling of several other writers, I really enjoy sharing thoughts about life in short snippets - columns, essays, and, in college a few years ago, journals (when an education major). I kept diaries in high school, and switched to journals as an adult. With the advent of e mail several years ago, I now save my e mails to closest family and friends as my ongoing "journal," and like the freedom and ease with which we all seem to write, respond, and write some more!

The title of my site came from this: after two spinal surgeries, I found myself dependent upon a cane all the time, but, needing to use a wheelchair for any lengthy visits, i.e. shopping at a large mall or store, going to museums, concerts, etc.. I realized during the early days how sitting lower than the rest of a fast-moving world gave me a different view - yes, both literally and figuratively. I saw how shoppers didn't seem to see me, as they almost t-boned me in store aisles. I also saw sweetness and kindness where others reached beyond their own needs to see to mine.

I felt lower, as well. I felt, well, disabled, and I wasn't willing, at first, to accept that as ME. It wasn't a biased opinion of my status, but was, rather, born of hope - that I would be able to overcome this dragging, tired, painful body's inability to do all I did before surgery number one.

Before that time, I was independent, physically and emotionally, and the realization that I am permanently disabled due to an omission in the first surgery, was difficult to grasp, and accept.

At this time, I started to write about this journey of mine, and was encouraged by my older son to write a blog. Based upon a recent purchase of a wheelchair, at that time, I chose to call this "From Where I Sit," although I hope to overcome my disability some more - although it is more than 1.5 years since the second surgery.

I also started loving the world I saw, from this "height" enough to photograph nature, my pets, my grandchildren, back yard, the lake near my home, and so many other beautiful people and scenes. One camera broke when I dropped it, and my husband bought me another for Christmas, and that was such an enormous gift - it gave me a purpose and an outlet - however, I had trouble managing the cane, the camera, etc., while I sought out subjects to capture my viewfinder and my heart.

I realized, soon, that many opportunities presented themselves by driving myself around, looking for the beauty I'd never see if I chose to stay home in a pity party with no other guests. Soon, friends and family got used to me with my ever-present camera, and they joined in, calling me to say that the ice boaters were on the lake, or that the great blue heron was on the dock by the bog! I'd get my camera, my cane, and either go out in the car, or wait for that caller/chauffeur to come for me (it's fun when others get involved....art in all its forms is a contagious joy). I started sending photos to local papers, and enjoyed knowing others might appreciate my "eye" for the natural, fun or amazing world we live in.

So, join me and share the beauty and the hope of moving past what stands still, and catching up, in whatever conveyances it takes to do so. After all, from where I sit, "life is what happens while you're busy making other plans," and life is good.