Protect and Defend

John and I watched a documentary on FDR a few nights back, and it struck me, as it often has in motherhood, how the idea of war changes when you are a parent.
On a daily basis, I'm forced to think about these hundreds of little things to protect my kids from---bee stings on the front porch, choking on peanuts, crossing the street without looking. Obviously, these are minutiae compared to what one confronts in wartime.
What would it be like to be the parents ripped from one another and their children as they segregated into genders in the Holocaust concentration camps? What would it be like to pray genuinely and pleadingly for the life of your child to be safe?
Really, these thoughts are almost too grounding for a mom to contemplate. So, I'm content to worry about what will happen if Tommy drinks too much apple juice, or if Lucy doesn't get enough exposure to baby word books.
And then, every so often, I realize just how blessed we really are.