My grandson, Evan, took his first steps today. He’d been walking holding on for awhile, but today he bravely walked by himself about 10 feet, from Mommy to Auntie, with Grandpa there to cheer him on.

That and the events in Boston got me thinking about cheerleaders. Where would we be without them? I know that Evan would have walked without his encouragers, and probably most of the marathoners would have run without theirs. But I bet there were a number of runners who would not have been at the marathon, had it not been for encouragement somewhere along the way. If nothing else, cheerleaders make the journey easier and richer. After all, what fun is winning without someone to share it with? The fact that it was the cheerleaders who took the brunt of the attack in Boston made the tragedy seem even worse for me.  Those people weren’t there to achieve anything for themselves, but simply to support and encourage the people they loved. They’re all martyrs as far as I’m concerned.

Evan is stepping today into a world that I don’t like much anymore. My first reaction is to grab him and tell him not to go, but I know that’s not possible. And, if we think about it, life has always been precious and precarious. So I’m going to let Evan go and even cheer him on, but not before telling him how much I love him.