It's been a kind of difficult day. The Fort Hood shooting is a real blow to me and a lot of folks in the unit. I'm very familiar with Fort Hood. A lot of folks in my unit are.

I really don't want to sound cold or inhuman, but over here, we're at war. You steel yourself up for monstrous things to happen. You have plans; you try to accept the possibility without letting the worry about it get the best of you.

I was up almost all last night watching the news, watching them present that five or six scraps of information while showing loops of footage. Folks from my unit were gathered around the television. Some just cursed, some had theories, and some tried the same dark jokes kept in reserve for similar situations. Everybody was angry. The thing is, when something like that happens back in America, back in a place you kind of build up in your mind as being relatively safe, well, it feels like the rug is pulled out from under you. And that's pretty hard.

But I tell you what: Do you know why I'm sitting up in my office at 2:30 in the morning looking at a largely unfinished weekly update? [Editor's note: Taylor sends regular messages home from Iraq] Because I was going to try to avoid my normal policy of telling cheerful and humorous bits about the week, and take the time to focus on the - I don't know, the constant threat and unknowable nature of the future?

But let's face it, I don't really have anything to say about that. Life can be hard. Terrible things can happen. But there is more to life than that. In these few years the Lord gives us on the Earth, each of us is capable of living into an infinite number of amazing, glorious possibilities.

Let's mourn the victims, pray for their families, find out why this terrible thing happened and do everything in our power to make sure it never happens again. But let's also remember what makes life worth living.

So, toward that end, here are three good things that happened this week:

1. National Novel Writing Month kicked off Sunday. There are six people hammering away on their books, doing everything in their power to grind out a narrative of at least 50,000 words. One fellow, a 20-year-old specialist from outside Durham, has never written anything this long before, and he's on his sixth or seventh chapter. He's writing a story for his little boy, starring his son as he goes on wild adventures.

2. I went electric this week. (Luckily, nobody yelled "Judas" at me.) The chapel's Fender guitar finally came in. (It was ordered at the end of August). It is unbelievably cool to have an electric guitar to play whenever I have a free moment. There are few luxuries so great.

Also, there's a 19-year-old private first class who's written a pretty awesome song. He was in the office today playing it on the guitar. I can't tell you its name because, well, security reasons. But it refers to an unpleasant semi-regular event we have around here and discusses it in a delightfully cheerful and ironic way.

I need a good microphone and am going to figure out how to get one over here, but with all the talented musical people here (we've got rock stars, harmonicaists, singers, rappers and bag pipers) we're going to put together an album. I might not know how to do it right now, but I'm sure someone here can figure it out. It's going to be awesome.

3. One of the tomato plants is still alive. Of the seven we originally planted, six could not stand the Iraqi weather, but that one fighter is keeping it going. Sure, the little guy has been growing for 2 1/2 months and is still less than an inch tall, but he hasn't given up, and we sure as hell aren't going to either.

So, that's what's going on this week. Before I let y'all go, I want to share a prayer, one that is very important to me personally, for the folks affected by yesterday's events. It's from the Compline service we have here each Thursday night:

Keep watch, Dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for Your love's sake. Amen.

I hope y'all are keeping well. I miss y'all badly.