It has been one of those days, one of those days when I wish I could wrap my arms around the world, give it a hug, and then reach into my toolbox and pull out just the right thing to fix all of the heartbreak.

I wish I had a tool that could give two kids back their father, their father who was murdered senselessly while protecting all of us.

I wish I had something . . . anything . . . that could fix the pain for a mother who buried her child today.

I wish there was a way to undo all of the damage and destruction that has been done in Haiti, a way to make it all OK.

I wish I had a plane in my toolbox so I could fly to Haiti and help these Pittsburghers make sure that the families who are waiting to adopt these beautiful babies will get to do so.

I wish I could fix it all.

Instead, I'm left to fix the problems that overwhelm a 3 (almost 4)-year old. I reach into that toolbox and find the right thing to make it OK that there are no Chad Danforth fruit snacks in the High School Musical fruit snack box. I use my arms to comfort her when she gets frustrated trying to write the word, "Dad." I cover her with another blanket when she cries that she is cold.

I'm grateful for the tools that I do have, the tools that allow me to remember that after a long, chatter-filled bedtime delay, that 3-year old turned to me and said one last thing before falling asleep:

"Momma, I have one more thing to say. I love you."