12:50 p.m.

That's the time we were at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum a week ago today. We had 12:45 tickets and decided to go to the museum cafe beforehand for lunch. It was a good lunch. We were all surprised because most museum cafes frankly aren't known for their tasty cuisine. They offered the usual fare as well as knishes which Emma thought was a funny word.

It was also the first time in my life I had to go through security to eat. In all of the places that we visited in DC in the previous four days - with all of the high security everywhere - not once did we have to go through security to get to the food. We thought it odd but when you're in that kind of situation (extreme hunger!) you go with the flow.

After lunch, it was about 12:50 and we entered the museum. And, of course, there was more security. We knew the routine by then and proceeded to put our purses and wallets in the plastic bins and on the conveyor belt to be scanned and then waited to walk through the upright metal detector. While we were waiting, a very nice security officer said to my me and my brother, "Please open your water bottles and take a few sips for me." We looked at each other with puzzled looks on our faces because that was a first. At every security checkpoint we'd encountered in the previous days, not one security guard had made that request. They either didn't care if we had water or told us we had to throw it out. We started laughing and the guard went on to explain that he just needs to make sure it's not an explosive liquid. I looked at him with a glint in my eye and said, "Well, this is vodka. Does that count?" He thought that was pretty funny. Laughed out loud and waved us through. Later that evening, my family and I talked about how much sense his request made. So much smarter than making everyone throw their water out!

Today, exactly one week later at 12:50 p.m., a security guard at that very museum lost his life to a racist gunman. Although he wasn't the one that asked us to take sips of our water, I wondered if he was one of the ones that I had encountered that day. The one I had asked where the gift shop was? The one that I smiled at and he smiled at me as I passed by him? It made me sad to think about. And grateful. Grateful for all of the security we had to go through that week as we toured throughout the city. We thought it was such a pain at the time, but now I see how important it is and how brave all of those security men and women are even though their day-to-day activities may seem rather rote and mundane to us.

My prayers are for the family of that security guard tonight. Thank you for all you did to serve and protect my family a week ago. And all that you did to protect other museum guests today.