In response to this:
(A comment left this morning at 2:44 am:)
"Sara and/or fellow commentator's...
"I am sure you are swamped and don't ever have any time to read or respond to these blog comments,
but I notice as I have read other people's comments, I noticed a few said, "erased by author".
Are there requirements for these kinds of things?
If there are I would love to know,
so that I don't make a mistake and/ or offend anyone."
and another similar inquiry...
.
.
Please know that I do, NOW,
read every blog comment, e-mail and facebook message that comes my way.
In the hospital, that was difficult because of the sheer quantity of comments.
I scanned them and did read most,
gathered their intent and was buoyed up by their sentiment.
So please accept my sincere and heartfelt gratitude.
But my emotional state,
my anxiety about staying by Bronson's side and not leaving,
and my obsessive need to document every detail of the daily occurrences
not to mention my utter lack of sleep
made it difficult to actually read them all or comment in reply.
Even once we were home, I needed a few days to just... BE.
But now that I am trying to function like a real person again, I do make the effort.
Just so you know.
I do hear you.
And thank you... Thank you all for reaching out.
We have felt so loved and supported.
So please don't think that I don't take the time to read
what you take the time to write
and to send.
Because I do.
.
But as for the "erased by author" question, I can not say why.
Many of them have time stamps that are identical or similar to the post above or below.
Perhaps they were duplicates or contained errors that the author wanted to correct?
And to clarify, "erased by author" means they were erased by the author of the comment,
not by me, the author of the post.
I have done no moderation or editing of comments at all.
None.
Not even once.
.
I was told of only one unkind comment that came in to our blog
during the time we were at the hospital.
It was lengthy and pointed, I am told.
A dear friend was alarmed and concerned about me seeing it, fragile as she felt I was.
She petitioned another dear friend, of the tech-geek variety ;),
and together they guessed at my password, until they hacked in to my blogger account
and removed the unkind post before I could see it.
Thanks to them.
Very thoughtful.
I am guessing it included many of the same points
I was reamed for on the KSL comment boards,
after Bronson's story aired on the news.
Regrettably, those I did read.
Until Matt made me stop.
And I'll be honest,
they hurt my feelings.
A lot.
For about two days.
And then I realized that there are many people who do not know me.
Do not understand me.
Do not care to understand me.
Many people who are unhappy.
And who choose to be critical of others.
I believe this is done in an effort to feel better about themselves.
To extract some of their own pain and fling it out onto someone else.
Someone they judge.
Someone they feel that they are better than.
And I was just the one they threw their stones at that day.
These brothers and sisters in spirit who have forgotten me.
But surely they've moved on to someone else by now.Sad. So sad.
Oh, how I wish they could see themselves the way their Father in Heaven does.
I wish they could see how much they have to share
if only they'd let themselves be opened, and then filled.
Filled with something better and sweeter than the anger, bitterness
and judgement that consumes them.
Oh, friends...
Let us learn not to judge.
But instead allow ourselves to love, unreservedly.
And to forgive, unconditionally.
Let us encircle one another in arms of safety.
With open hearts, willing to see and understand another's anguish.
Let us give freely,
benefit, that casts out doubt.
Let us leave the judging for The Judge.
And let us be masters of mercy.
And benevolence.
And so, my dear anonymous friend,
thank you for your question.
Thank you for the sweet comment that followed.
And thank you for giving me the opportunity to address this issue,
I'm sure you were not the only one wondering.
And please let yourself rest at ease...
I try never to be offended.
If you haven't guessed by now, I am an open book.
For better or for worse, I am outed.
But feelings, I think, are much better out than in.
And besides, offense has to be taken.
Picked up and owned.
And I choose to leave it lying.
Alone, by the side of my path.
To read more or view the post, click here: 
