In three hours it will be July 16 -- six months from a day we'll never forget. Diane was at the church building working on a project with the 6th grade girls she teaches on Wednesday night. I went to pick Chris up. I watched vehicle after vehicle pull into the parking lot with weary teenagers, exhausted from a long, sleep-deprived weekend, pile out. But the vehicle carrying my son never came. "Must have been at the end of the caravan," I thought. Then I caught eye contact with our wonderful new youth minister. I think she tried to hide the terror, but she couldn't. These were kids she loved, too. And she -- and only she at this moment -- knew what had happened. It fell to her to start breaking the news that a certain group of families needed to go to Hendrick's emergency room. I went up to tell Diane. One of the hardest moments of my life. We had buried a daughter; fear filled us at the thought of having to face the loss of another child. At the hospital, our little group of parents huddled in a waiting room, as we waited for the ambulances to arrive. Word came to two families that their children were being airlifted to Ft. Worth. Off they went. Then the others began to arrive. My dear friend Jim Morrison, an ER physician, went into work when he heard about the accident even though he wasn't on call. When Chris came in, Jim came to us trying to put on a brave face. He kept telling us that he looked pretty beat up but that they needed to do some tests. When we saw him -- and I can hardly write this now -- we couldn't really recognize him. He'd be bludgeoned. That's when we leaned into his ears and whispered love, prayer, and a childhood-favorite poem. Very soon Jim delivered the good news that the CT-scan looked pretty good. There was a problem with a vertebrae, but the head looked good on the inside. Shortly after that (or maybe it was during that time -- it's all pretty compressed), news came to the Bourlands that Brody had died. I have come to know Bret and Jennifer Bourland as two amazing people of faith -- but even that doesn't prepare you for such a loss. Well, the story goes on, and I've written about it more than enough in the past. But I'll never forget that before I took off for Ft. Worth by car (since only one parent was allowed on the plane), I posted a note on this blog. January 16. And within hours, we had heard from people all over the world -- people praying for all those who'd been injured and for the Bourlands. I have no words to describe what that means. Watch for an article in the Abilene Reporter-News (www.reporternews.com) with an update on Highland and these families six months after the wreck. I think it will be in tomorrow.