Good for My Heart

I am the world's most frenetic multi-tasker and since I became a single mama, that problem has grown worse. So when I work out on the eliptical trainer, I don't just enjoy the ipod tunes and the sweat rolling down my back. Oh no, I work out and read. And not crappy People magazine, either. I read the New York Times magazine and Newsweek. I'll not lie: this combination makes me feel extra virtuous. Hey world, look at me: developing my mind and keeping the blood pressure low. Ha. Take that.

So today finds me 10 minutes into my workout, ipod blasting embarrassing songs from the 1970s, and on track to run my 5 miles with Newsweek by my side (okay, technically, on the handy magazine holder just in front of me, but poetic license seemed in order). I turn to the cover story (brief aside: I read the Newsweek cover-to-cover, in the order the lovely editors have chosen to place the stories. No skipping around. Now you see why I need to keep that blood pressure low).

The February 5 cover story is entitled "Black Hawk Down" and it's about the 12 soldiers killed in a helicopter crash on Saturday, January 20 in the Diyala province northeast of Baghdad. Look it up on a map and think about it. As the story points out, "...the most remarkable thing about the crash might be how quickly the deaths of a dozen soldiers can pass into and out of the public's consciousness these days." You should read this story.

In fact, you must read this story.

The story is about the lives of 12 soldiers, 11 men and 1 woman. 10 of them were serving in Iraq as part of the National Guard. They left behind 34 children, some of whom are pictured in the magazine. That's what got me, really, these ordinary people pictured with their children, doing ordinary things. Hugging their toddler. Standing with their tall teenage children. Hiking with their 11 year old. I looked at those pictures and lost my breath. I stopped running and I just stood there sobbing.

I'm a parent and while I usually refrain from drawing conclusions about how other people feel about being a parent, I think I know what these people feared the most. They didn't worry about being by their child's side as they won the big game, or graduated high school, or got married. Of course, they wanted to be there for those moments. They'd have moved heaven and earth to do so. That's what parents do. But they also worried about being there when the small moments that make up a life happen. Just one more story at bedtime. A last cuddle from a sleepy ragamuffin. A hike through the woods. A trip to the park. A card game. Or listening to your kid tell the same knock-knock joke that you told when you were 6 (it wasn't funny back then either). It is those moments, the ones you don't plan, the everyday moments that are too countless to chronicle, that make up a life.

And now, suddenly, for 12 people there will be no more of those moments. Thousands of potential moments, gone in an instant.

The 12 people who died left behind many people who loved them and will mourn for them. They don't need you and I to mourn anymore. But they, and the thousands of other soldiers in Iraq, and the millions of people who make their homes in Iraq, need us to pay attention. Now. We must fix this unholy mess that we have created.

You can start by reading this article. Now.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16843652/site/newsweek/