The world you have entered is in chaos, baby boy, but you are safe with bumper pads encircling your crib and the arms of your parents cradling you with love.

Your tiny world is lit with sunshine by day and a blue light in the shape of a star for nighttime. All is well with your world, and for that I give thanks.

You are secure at your mother’s breast, unaware that the world outside is spinning with horrific developments by the hour – explosions, fires, panic, death, destruction, fear, violence.

The devastation will not reach you, and you will only learn of its horrors when you are old enough to bear that weight. You will be protected from the awful knowledge that on the fourth day of your sweet life, the lives of those around you have forever been changed.

Today your country came under attack. Something so atrocious and unthinkable has occurred. Everyone is stunned, and the only brightness I can think of is you, beloved grandson, so I’m writing, which is all I know to do.

Your grandparents did not experience the agony of the attack on Pearl Harbor nor the scenes too horrendous to comprehend. What we learned of that war we read or heard from your great-grandparents as they told of the prayers they uttered for lives lost, and of their hope, their struggle, for peace.

Your grandfather, however, still tries to block out of his mind memories of the Tet offensive, of mortar shells exploding in the night skies over Da Nang, of minefields blowing up jeeps … and friends.

All those thoughts and more bombard us today as we tremble with emotion, wishing we could close our eyes and ears. We are fearful. We are mournful. And, as others before us have been, we are brought to our knees in prayer.

But you, still, quiet infant, know nothing of war, of carnage, of terrorism. You sleep soundly, bundled snugly in cotton blankets, a colorful mobile bouncing above your head when caught by a puff of air from the window.

There is no ugly image in your mind, and you awake to the wonders around you – the soft voices, the sweet caresses. Your shelter is from the storm outside, and I wish that it would ever be so.

You are a blessed newborn. You know no hatred, and only peace prevails in your small, innocent world. I wish that it would ever be so.