I love being a parent. Having children is something I have wanted since I
  was a child. My mother tells me that when I was as young as five, I
  talked about "my babies", their names, features, etc. These three
  daughters of mine are by far the best thing I have ever done and raising
  them to be decent, compassionate, loving, caring, socially conscious human
  beings is by far the greatest task and accomplishment I will ever achieve.
  I am doing a good job. I know this because I am once again being faced
  with the part of parenting that I hate, that of not having adequate
  answers.

  When Turkey was rocked by the devastating earthquake last week, I watched
  the news with my oldest daughter, explaining in child-ese what the
  reporters were relating from the scene. Having survived a hurricane as a
  baby, she is always fascinated by natural disasters and at 7 has a deep
  respect for Mother Nature. She asked if the buildings looked the same
  after the hurricane as they did on CNN in Turkey. I told her that they
  did. She wondered out loud if the Red Cross was going to help them the
  way they had arrived to help us. I assured her they were on their way.
  She then turned her huge blue eyes to me and asked how God could let so
  many people be hurt and killed. My silence frightened us both and she then
  asked if there really is a God.

  There is no manual, textbook or class to prepare you for the questions
  that the open, innocent, answer needing child can ask. Especially when
  you find yourself pondering some of the same philosophy and theology. I
  was gifted with a strong foundation and belief system as a child. But I
  also grew up thinking about Him mainly on Sunday mornings when my parents
  would drag my siblings and I to Mass. Like many, I have also been guilty
  of turning to God in times of need and strife, starting too many prayers
  with, "Please God...". With my children, I have attempted to correct
  this. To the extent they can understand, we talk about Him, they thank
  Him for beautiful sunsets and wonder out loud how He makes such amazing
  colors. He is not someone who is just there when you are down, He is the
  first one there when you are up. The girls recognize Him as a
  constant presence, not just the prelude to the Sunday trip to Dunkin
  Donuts.

  So how to answer her question? Last week I did my best to explain that
  God is indeed there. That it is not a matter of Him allowing something
  terrible to happen. Yes, babies and children and mommies and daddies, etc
  died, but He was there to guide them to Heaven. He was there with the
  warmest safest hug a person will ever receive. He is still there watching
  over the survivors. Just as He was watching over her after her hurricane.
  I could tell by her expression and silence that she just was not sure and
  like all of us from time to time, she was needing something more tangible.
  Something she could see. I found myself starting yet another prayer with
  , "Please God...", however this one was not for a good test score or
  healthy baby, this was for help in reassuring my daughter.

  My prayer was answered today. As we watched a CNN update, my eyes filled
  with tears as they showed a 4 year old boy being pulled from the
  devastation. Emaciated, yes. Dehydrated, yes. But six days after this
  tragedy, alive. As a parent, my tears were for this poor child, his
  suffering and his loss. However, my tears were also because it was far
  too easy to see my own young children in his
  frightened, innocent eyes, even half way around the world. The reporter
  then used the word miracle. My daughter looked at me and asked, "Only God
  can do a miracle, right?" I nodded. She smiled
  and hugged me and as my tears fell into her hair, she whispered, "See
  Mommy? There really is a God." I love being a parent.