Karen’s dad was watching the segment and pressed the record button on the TIVO. When the women were done in the kitchen he played if for them. He hugged Karen and took her hook in his hand, something nearly everyone who knew her would do in at some point. He looked at it carefully. “I wish this was me, not you.”

“Dad. I love you because you have been there for me. Your coming here now was important to me. Don’t feel like you failed. This happened because of evil and hateful men. Somehow good is going to come out of this.”

“Right now I don’t see how.”

“Neither do I. But I have to have faith. The scripture says that I cannot be forsaken. I have not been. In fact, my life is better now than before the attack. A couple Advil clear any pain I have. I’m weaning off the prednisone. Both are good. Want to watch, I need to do my therapy. Just don’t laugh.”

“Sure.”

She went into the dining room, got out her box of toys and started stacking Legos. She couldn’t shuffle cards but she could deal them. She held the deck in her left hand, pushed the top card off about a quarter of an inch, grabbed it with her hook, swung it toward the person and released the card. She even threaded a needle and made a couple of stitches with her hook. After about an hour of this, picking up small items and sorting them, then dumping them out she put the box away. “Enough for today.”

“I can’t believe you sewing with that.”

I think I want to see if I can figure out how to knit.”

Her mom laughed. “You couldn’t get that together with two hands. How can you do it with one?”

“Mom, I have two hands. The one is just a replacement. You know that the after market items are generally better.” She laughed. “Isn’t that what you always said about car radios, dad?”

“But. You know what I meant.” Her dad spluttered.

“There are some things that are going to be very difficult. I understand that. But I need to pick up the pieces that are called my life and put them back together. When I pick up the things and sort them to practice I think of it as picking up pieces of my life. I am like someone dropped in a remote place by parachute. I have to start where I am. And although I don’t have a map, I have some people who will help me if I ask. I have looked at the good side. Like Lou said, “That press couldn’t do that to me again.’ This world can’t do this to me again. I survived this. I am a survivor.”