**

When I got to work today, there was a package in my in-box. I could tell it was a book, but that was no biggie. I am expecting a book that a publisher wants me to review, so I tossed it on my bookshelf, unopened.

So, about twenty minutes ago, (it's about 11 a.m. central as I write this) Rose Princess comes into my office to chat, notices the package and asks about it. I explain what it is and reach over to open it. I mean, it's as good a time as any, I suppose.

Inside the Fed-Ex envelope, there is a book ... but it's wrapped in gift wrapping paper ... a little strange coming from a publisher, but what the hell. There is also a hand-written note. I pull the note out and almost hit the floor.

Let me backtrack a bit. Last year I did a series of commentaries for the paper about 'Crosses on the Road'.

Shortly thereafter, a letter arrived from Alabama. The mother of a fallen Soldier told the story of his death and HIS cross on the side of the road. A follow up story was done, printing her letter (with her permission) and things just snowballed. A group of men from the Soldier's unit and some of the rescue workers that responded to the call contacted her. They comforted her and also went out to the cross and beautified the area ... new paint, mowing, planting new flowers ... these guys went all out. She had a bit of closure after that and wrote me another letter to thank me again.

Now ... this letter ... well, you read it ...

Dear Mr. Gunn,

We wanted to thank you again for your article on the crosses. It is coming up on the 7th anniversary of our son's passing. Because of your article, we will never have to worry about the condition of our son's cross or crash site. Thanks to (name withheld) and (name withheld) of the (Camp Swampy) Fire Department. They have taken it upon themselves to keep our son's memory alive. We have become very good friends since the article was written and met in person this past week.

We wanted to give you a token of our appreciation. Please accept this gift which has become a very special part of my life.

Again, thank you for writing the article. It always amazes me as we walk through life, the impact the small things we do can have on someone else's life. I'm sure that when you wrote the article you had no idea of the lives that would be touched and the friendships made.

Thank you,
A Soldier's Mom

This is the book they sent me:

Now you know I've been having some major swings the past couple of days. This really touched me. But what happened next freaked me out. I opened the book to todays date and this is what met me there ...

As moves my fragile boat across the storm-swept sea,
Great waves beat o'er her side, as north wind blows;
Deep in the darkness hid lie threat'ning rocks and reefs;
But all of these, and more, my Pilot knows.

Sometimes when darkness falls, and every light's gone out,
I wonder to what port my frail ship goes;
Although the night be long, and restless all my hours;
My distant goal, I'm sure, My Pilot knows.

A scan of the previous pages seemed to line up with exactly what I'm going through. Saturday ... the day I just wanted to die:

The flowers live by the tears that fall from the sad face of the skies;
And life would have no joys at all, were there no watery eyes.
Love the sorrow, for grief will bring It's own reward in later years;
The rainbow, see how fair a thing God has built up from tears.

And these are just examples, there is a lot more there that I won't subject you to, but trust me ... it's a little fucking spooky.

Now I just got done telling you part of my deal with God ... remember? The hate-hate relationship? This is a devotional book and you would expect to be able to read your situation into whatever lesson they are teaching that day ... still ... I just don't know how I feel about this, except a little freaked out.

I do want to say thank you to that Soldier's Mom. You touched me deeply today and gave me something to think about and I appreciate that. I'm proud that my words touched you and proud of the effect they have had on your life. It's an honor I'll carry with me the rest of my life.

Now can somebody please explain why the fuck I am so God-damned leaky these days!