Amy Welborn was talking to her son on his way to work at VA Tech.

....He spoke of one of his co-worker's relations, a police officer early on the scene, who was still not sleeping because of what he saw. And he told me this:

As the securing and examination of the crime scenes began in the afternoon and went on late into the night, one sound resounded through the heavy sad silence of the classrooms.

Cell phones.

Cell phones ringing, sounding, echoing against the walls. But cell phones that could not be answered because it was still a crime scene and nothing could be moved quite yet, nothing could be touched. And on the other end of those rings, parents and friends, dialing again and again, fearful, hearts slowly breaking, dialing one more time. Into silence.
....snip...
You know, when I was younger - actually not much younger - the life of a contemplative was unimaginable to me. How, I wondered, could anyone pray all day? What could keep you down on your knees so much? How could you think of enough to pray for?

Slowly, I'm beginning to figure it out. And now I think there are not enough hours in the day or night. Not nearly enough. Trusting that the prayers rise out of the grief, making their way, not into the air where they cannot be answered, but into the waiting embrace of Life and Love Eternal.