Tag Archives: grief

What I wish I could say . . .

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Drawing Copyrighted property of Reed's Run

Drawing Copyrighted property of Reed’s Run

Last night, I received a text message from my cousin relaying news about another horrific school bus crash. The site of yesterday’s crash – a little over an hour away from where we laid our own sweet boy to rest in North Dakota. Her words sent me to my knees and to the deep recesses of my memories, a place I don’t like to visit. Sadly, I have earned an advanced degree in what lies ahead for BOTH the families of the grieving AND for the families of the injured. Unlike my cousin, I do not know any of them personally. If I did, these are the words I would want to say.

Right now, you feel as if the whole world stopped spinning. There are those who will say, “I know how you feel.” Don’t listen to them. Every person’s story is their own and no one, including me, can ever know exactly how you feel. Your world did stop and as much as I would like to tell you otherwise, it will never be the same.

Breathe. One breath at a time. For a while, maybe even a long while, that will be all your fragile and shocked system will be able to do. There are decisions that will need to be made. Why is it at our lowest moments there are boatloads of decisions that MUST be made. Simply trust that your faith, family, and friends will help guide you. Just breathe. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you will get through this.

In the coming days and weeks, you will discover that you are stronger than you ever knew possible and more loved than you can ever imagine. People – those you know well and those you have never met before – will rally around you. They will dig out crockpots and cake pans, watch your pets, call friends and family, blow snow and pick up mail, hug their kids while they cry for yours, but mostly, they will pray because they don’t know what to do to help you.

Believe me, they will want to help, but all won’t know how to do this gracefully. There are many reasons for this. The biggest of all is what just happened to your family (as what happened to mine) is their worst nightmare. You will be a living reminder that bad things do happen to good people. “Life is absolutely precious and can be gone in an instant” and “I don’t know what I would do if this happened to us” will be at the forefront of their thoughts.

This is where it gets tough because like I said nothing will ever be the same. Some of your friends will not be able to handle their own grief while trying to help you with yours. Remember they love you and your family too. Some will never get over the fact that something bad could happen to their own children. It is too hard of a truth to bear. Others will believe you are enjoying the “fame” that this event will have in your story, as if this is ever how you envisioned the life of your loved ones. Know that you did nothing wrong. Know they didn’t either. Their fears do not negate your grief or your hardship at any point. You will probably develop a thicker skin, but underneath that outer covering will be a broken and shattered – yet humble – heart that will recognize pain in others. Use that light to guide you someday.

Keep breathing and learn to be gentle and kind to yourself. Your body just experienced a trauma even if you were not sitting on that school bus. Every cell in your body experienced the most toxic of shocks. Bodies are resilient, but toxicity takes a toll. You will struggle with the simplest of tasks. You will be forgetful – because that is the amazing thing about these beautiful creations we are. God equipped them with ways of insulating pain – even it lasts for a moment and is fleeting. Right now, you are still focused on one breathe at a time. Someday – oh someday – you will be able to do more than that.

I don’t know all the details of what happened yesterday, nor do I need to know them. I simply know you are hurting. However, you are going to learn all throughout today and the coming days and weeks, how insatiable the appetites are of curious minds. News reports and conversations can and will get the details wrong. As much as that will hurt and you may want to right every wrong, it will not change your hurting, your grief or your loss. This is your story. You are the author of the previous chapters and of the precious ones coming up. You can choose how much or how little you wish for the world to read.

Just keep breathing because every tiny inhalation and exhalation means you are surviving.

Soon you are probably going to just wish you could erase this day and get back to living. This one day will leave an indelible scar, but I know you are stronger than all of this. I promise that you absolutely will LIVE again. It will never be the way you want it to be, but the day will come when you wake up and this isn’t the very first thing on your mind. The road to that day may be short for some, and painfully and agonizingly long for others. That day did come for me, but the journey that began almost seven years ago after our darkest day still has lingering and lasting effects for our family.

Healing is a word that will get tossed around a lot in coming days. Healing can be a lifelong journey. You may have considered yourself a sprinter in life before this moment, but now, you will be changing your pace to endure becoming a marathon runner. There will be surgeries, hours of therapies, medications, appointments, loss of work and income, arguments with insurance, services, memorials, remembrances, and grief, insanely profound grief filled with what-ifs and whys. On those last two, they are jerks and trust me, they will never bring you comfort. You will learn to become your child’s advocate as you didn’t realize that not only are you training for the toughest race of your life but somehow you were promoted to coach of the team as well. Breathe. You are made of the right stuff to lead your family to the finish line – however long and far away that might be.

Things will never be the same. Your lives are changed forever. You won’t want to hear this right now, but you will see better days. The earth opened up and swallowed you into the darkest pit you could ever imagine. But listen in those quiet still moments – even those filled with doubt and fear and trepidation. Really listen. You will hear the voices of those that love you cheering as loudly with their heart songs as possible. Their melodies are there. Old and new friends, you have yet to meet, are cheering the loudest, because they too have found themselves in the pit. They KNOW what you will need to just get up out of bed in the morning.

They always say light shines the brightest in the dark, like those horrible creatures in the deep, deep ocean. Even when grief and pain rear their ugly heads, keep your eyes open. There will be tiny light reminders of love and encouragement, including some heavenly sent, all along the way. Keep your eyes open and breathe. Cling to that shining love because those moments will help you take baby steps to what will ultimately help you move beyond just breathing.

Four little letters that string together to provide the mightiest of foundations. H-O-P-E. Hope it is such a tiny little word, but it changes everything. Outside of breathing, there is nothing greater than I can say to you than cling to hope in whatever way, tiny or grand, God provides it for you. Breathe and hope.

This quilt from Mama is over 65 years old.

Outside of my words, I wish that I could bring my favorite quilt and rocking chair to your halted world today. We could curl up together while my tears mixed in with yours. We would rock and pray, cry and rock, but mostly, I would just hold your hand and remind you to breathe.

As much as I wish that my experience and pain could lessen yours, I know it won’t. There were others than came to comfort us with the comfort they had been given. Their words did not fall on deaf ears, but my heart was not ready to believe the unbelievable. I didn’t think we would make it. The one truth that finally spoke to my heart were two words, the shortest verse in God’s word. Jesus wept. In the aftermath of losing one child and caring for two severely injured others, it was the first thing that made any sense. Jesus wept, and so too am I and many, many more for you and your families. You will make it through this, not because of these words or anything I or anyone else can or will do, but because I know that with Jesus’ dad, all things are possible – including living through and beyond your darkest day. With legions of others, I will be praying for you to be comforted with one beautiful breath after another.

1 day: the Christmas card dilemma

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We have very simple Team Stevens Christmas traditions. Tonight, my kiddos will open new pajamas, and receive another bird ornament to add to their collection. Every year, our children get bird ornaments of their favorite birds. Someday when they have homes of their own, they will have a tree decorated beautifully with their bird ornaments from us and the Hallmark ornaments lovingly mailed each year from their grandparents.

The bird tradition started quite by accident when the boys were very tiny, and it actually started because of one of Sawyer’s godmothers gave him the most beautiful cardinal ornament that year for Christmas. Reed was so enamored with it we decided to try to find an ornament for him as well, but of his favorite bird, the blue jay. Every year since then, each child receives their chosen bird as an ornament.

My last elf workshop project this Christmas was to make their ornaments. Some years are store bought, but earlier this summer I found these adorable patterns and knew these were exactly the perfect gift.

 bird ornaments

Notice I still make or buy Reed an ornament each year. I just cannot bring myself to not do it. My heart would ache too much. I face the same dilemma when making Christmas cards. How do we take a picture knowing that he cannot be there? Some of our friends who have lost children simply choose not to send cards because they cannot bear to not put their child’s name on the letter or card. If I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times: the saddest day will be the day when no one says Reed’s name again.

We have the best friends in the whole world, and while that fear has a small flame flickering, my heart knows that all of the people in our lives would extinguish that fire with showers of love. And if we really keep our eyes open, the veil between heaven and earth is lifted just for a moment, and we have a God whisper right in our mist.

We wanted to do something kind to give back for all the kindnesses given to us in 2008. So we had these cards made to tell of just one of the encounters our family has had when heaven didn’t feel so far away.

The cardinal is a beautiful bird with a gorgeous red plumage and an equally inviting song. There is an old legend that says that the cardinal was once a white bird, in fact as white as snow. The cardinal came to the cross on Calvary’s hill and sang to Jesus at the base of his cross. The cardinal sang with all its might to his Maker and Master. During his song, Jesus’ blood dripped onto his feathers, and henceforth the male cardinal has been his brilliant red color.

As many of you know, our children have received every year a bird Christmas ornament. Each of the children receives a different bird that has some significance to their lives. Reed received the blue jay because he loved to watch the blue jays eat sunflowers outside his bedroom window. Sawyer has the cardinal because he received a gift from his godparents that had a cardinal on it, and he loved it. Erin has the chickadee, because Kandy was so excited to have a little “chick” in the house. Cloie gets the American goldfinch because while pregnant with her a goldfinch came to the family’s feeders for the first time. Each of the children’s birds had visited our feeders except for the cardinal. No matter how many different ways we tried, we just couldn’t get a cardinal to our backyard.

So then the most unspeakable horror happened to our family. We were deep in the midst of our grief when the most improbable and impossible thing occurs. On exactly one month following Reed’s death, a male cardinal landed in our backyard tree (with no feeders filled) and he started singing the most beautiful song our ears could hear. But it took the faith of a young man to realize what miracle has happened. Sawyer realized that it is a message from Reed to tell us that he is doing just fine in Jesus’ arms. See Reed knew exactly which bird to have Jesus send to get our attention. He also knew how deeply hurt Sawyer was at that point in our journey and he knew which bird would be the one, that above all other birds, Sawyer needed to see. (It probably didn’t hurt that he sent a bird that was his favorite color.) Well, some may call it coincidence, but we choose to

Believe in Miracles!

Thank you for being a special part of our family this year!

Ever since that first appearance, the cardinal has become our family’s connection to heaven. He also seems to appear when our friends and family need him as well. We have countless stories, some we have told and others we have not, where the cardinal has visited us when we needed it the most. Each one buoying our spirits and regenerating our hope in God eternal!

It took us a while to decide what we wanted to do for the picture this year for our family Christmas card. Faith – Family – Football is more than a motto. Truly the way we live our lives; so in honor of Sawyer’s last year of competitive football as a player, we chose his current and former #74 jerseys.

The best laid plans are often waylaid by weather on the prairie. Once we made up our minds, we had to wait for a semi-decent day to take the picture. We waited and waited . . . for what seemed like weeks. When the moment arose, we had to sneak away from unexpected company to snap a few shots before the last of the remaining sunlight faded away.

laker fans

Then it happened . . . heaven’s veil was lifted yet again.

Stepping out into Reed’s garden, we decided that was the best we could do to include him. We would take the picture on hallowed ground where Reed once had grand adventures with his siblings. When we set up to snap some fun pics of our favorite player and his fans, the plumage of red feathers came zipping by. Their faces were priceless! Mom, did you just see that? The tears streaming down my face was all the answer they needed. I continued to shoot their pictures while the cardinal zipped in and out of where they were standing.  Just like that, we were bathed in the wonder and amazement of God’s creation and love.

We needn’t have worried at all! He is always here, mostly in our hearts and memories and on a few very beautiful, God-breathed moments in our midst.

flying cardinal

A friend sent me this picture. I wish I could find the original source to credit the photographer.

Even all these years later, we are still choosing to believe in miracles!

May the Miracle of Christmas capture your heart now and forever!

With love from all of Team Stevens

3 days: A Christmas bloom where you are planted

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As I sit typing this blog, it is a very, gray and dreary day on the prairie. Hovering right above freezing, early fog and light rain have been the highlight for today’s weather. I don’t even know if rain is the right word. Spitting is what my Papa would have called it. My childhood home lies closer to Mexico while I currently live closer to Canada. On days like today, I hoping for sunshine and not at all, dreaming of a White Christmas, especially when the lawn has big muddy patches from our ninety-something pound dog.

We spent the weekend, cleaning house and working at the Elf Workshop. Having a daughter who plays high school basketball limits how far we can travel during the season. So it will be just us home for Christmas. We are planning a low key day, and we even gave our kids the freedom to choose what they would like for Christmas Eve and Day meals. Chicken Enchiladas and Poor Man’s Lobster were rather interesting choices, but nonetheless, we will be together celebrating the anniversary of Jesus’ birth. Next to him, my children and a love of learning and imagination are the best gifts I have ever received.

Dreary days like today drain me, but I am pulling myself together because it is baking night. No one in this house has any Belgian DNA in their cells, but we live among Belgians and have adopted their customs. Among the delicacies on the bakers’ agendas for this evening are these delightfully, crisp little waffle-like cookies known as Belgian cookies. We will be using a specially designed waffle iron (though I personally prefer the native name of lukkenyzer), which was fashioned, patented, and manufactured down the road in Ghent . . . Minnesota by “The Belgian” (who lived in the house that one of my best friend’s dad grew up in). I have very special memories of learning how to make these cookies from another bus family, whom Reed adored. So in a small way, he’ll be here with us.

Cactus

In addition to looking forward to tonight’s family baking extravaganza, I found a little bright spot earlier when I looked up from my dining room table to discover the Christmas cactus, given to me for directing the children’s pageant, was starting to bloom. It reminded me of another dreary time this summer when I found a blossom in the most unusual of places. The sweet friend who sent the pictures of my kiddos making the fairy gardens a few days ago was the same friend who owned an amazing herb farm down the road. Reed loved her lemon balm, and one year chose that plant as his special addition to his garden space. I think it must be propagated on the wings of angels, because it has sprung up in the most unlikely of places all over our yard.

I was having a really bad day following the Girl Awesome’s sports injury this spring. Some people had said some really awful things to her. My heart broke for her, which brought up all the hard things our family has been through in the almost seven years since our worst day. I spent most of that day in bed crying and talking to God. Eventually I needed to get back to living. After dishes, the most pressing thing on my agenda was taking out the trash. (I know –  I live the glamorous life.) A little glimpse of green caught my eye on the way to garbage can. Embedded in the rocks (where no plants have been in over ten years) was the tiniest lemon balm plant poking through the rock bed.

A different kind of tears filled my eyes as a chuckle so tender and quiet alit from my heart. I knew exactly what God (with maybe a little help from a redheaded boy) was trying to tell me. If I can make a plant grow in the most inhospitable of environments, I can take care of your troubles too.

There is always hope. Revolutionary, day-changing, love-filled hope!

Tonight we will bake and forget our dreary day! We will laugh and sneak batter and eat way too many cookies and dance like crazy people (a baking necessity), but most of all we will bloom where we are planted.

lukkenyzer

If you are in the neighborhood, stop in. There is always room at the table.

baking day

6 days: that Christmas letter

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Not every family sends Christmas cards, and I get it on many different levels. I even have some friends that attempt New Year’s cards which eventually arrive in the mailbox around Valentine’s Day. It counts in my book because the year is still relatively new.  Trust me, no judgment here as we sometimes have Blizzards from Dairy Queen for supper. NO. JUDGEMENT.

Having had pen pals as a teenager, I am still a big fan of real postal service mail, especially Christmas cards and newsletters. I enjoy reading each and every one. My aunt who passed away a few years back would tell me how much she loved receiving my card. Much before I knew I had a writer’s voice, she knew. In her gentle way, she would tell me to keep writing because my newsletter was her favorite each year. She loved watching my children grow in all the pictures, much the same as I do annually with the cards arriving in my mailbox.

Of course, every family has that friend or relative who shares a little too much. My sweetie and I would savor those letters. Waiting until the kiddos were snuggled in bed, we would giggle and snort through the retelling of a bad case of gout or my personal favorite: toe fungus. When I referred to the difficult blog I had recently read regarding Christmas cards and not sending them to grieving people, I originally thought the title was admonishing card senders for fabricating Norman Rockwell like families. Intrigued by the article, I read it in its entirety even though I could not identify with everything that author said.

I originally thought the article would be about not trying to portray your family as perfect, and instead I accidentally stumbled into an article about helping (or from the author’s viewpoint, hurting) families grieving the loss of a child. The concept of being real (okay, maybe not sharing about toe fungus) is refreshingly honest to me. Personally, I think that is the part of all of my talks, speeches, and blogs that resonates with people. I struggle, but more importantly, I share my struggles. If that is not your style, again: no judgment here.

I am far from perfect (and so too are all the people that share a home with me). We all have our moments, yet somehow we scrape our broken pieces back together and keep going. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? A perfect baby came so we didn’t have to even try to be perfect. He came to give us the hope that would become the glue, putting all the brokenness we experience in perspective. For that, I am truly thankful because I know we don’t have to be (or even pretend to be) perfect for God’s love to reach us.

So in the spirit of being real, I am sharing my sister-in-law’s absolute favorite Christmas picture of my kids, which was taken quite a few years ago.  By a few year’s I mean longer than Sally Gal has been alive.  So enjoy . . . my perfectly imperfect family!

The real Team Stevens

The real Team Stevens

7 days: and just like that

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Yesterday’s post wasn’t meant to be marching orders, but somehow God knew I was going to have a rough night. During the day when my emotions get the best of me, I lay down for a nap to ease my racing thoughts. Generally, naps are a miracle tonic for me providing refreshment, rejuvenation, and a calmer spirit. When people quip about how much I do in a day exhausts them, I always say the secret to my success is taking naps.

Last night had a combination of things go wrong, but the fact that I drank a Coke at eight o’clock probably did not help anything. For me, nighttime is the enemy’s playground. All my worst fears play out as nightmares and my old (looking for joy has really helped curbed this) habit of worrying until I made myself physically sick generally happen under the cloak of darkness. Sadness, fear, worry, doubt, guilt, and second guessing all sneak out from the under the bed or hide behind the closet doors, waiting to pounce once the sun goes down.

In the days following the crash, nightmares would have seemed like child’s play compared to the almost hallucinogenic night terrors we endured every night. I don’t believe in self-medicating, but if there had been some type of coma inducing sleep medicine we could have taken as a family, I would have signed on the dotted line. Personally, I clung to the shortest Bible verse in existence. Jesus wept. John 11:35 (NIV) There were only two things that made sense – we are strong and we will get through this.

Time and time again, friends, family, and sometimes strangers beat the drum to help us rally through tough moments. After turning out the lights last night, the familiar rhythmic beat of love started pounding. Lying in bed, the familiar ding and flashing blue light told me a text message had come in. For more than an hour, I poured my heart out to a friend who knew I needed someone to listen. Her gentle message was one of hope and encouragement not only for me, but also for one of my peeps.

The remainder of the night was spent in fits and spurts of sleep alternated with dichotomous thoughts of staying in bed or just getting up and doing something. It wasn’t sadness and despair, but simply a lot of ruminating thoughts I needed to accomplish. While too much caffeine was also a contributor, I think I just needed time to reflect and talk to God.

After my morning routine, I decided to check my emails, and just like that, God once again nudged someone to reach out and touch my heart. A dear friend who moved to half way around the world wanted me to know that Reed’s light mattered. She had recently reminded me of this in an another message, but this morning I woke up to three pictures she had stumbled across of a magical day that we had spent at her place. In the blink of an eye, I was transported back to the day of gentle blowing breezes, the river light-heartedly lapping at its banks, sunlight dappling through spring green leaves, and air punctuated by a million questions from my children.

Bliss! Pure bliss was the gift she gave me today. Her three snapshots were my modern day gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Reed’s light is shining through her heart too! What a wonderful reminder that God’s word is emphatically true. . .

Weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning. Psalm 30:5

The day we made fairy gardens was one of the most magical days!

The day we made fairy gardens was one of the most magical days!

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

On this last photo, I can almost hear my Granddaddy whisper from heaven, "Sister, get her hair out of her eyes."

On this last photo, I can almost hear my Granddaddy whisper from heaven, “Sister, get her hair out of her eyes.”

8 days: the shepherds were told to go

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It’s a really great “job” I have, sitting on a philanthropic and community-minded board. Three times today, I had the opportunity to go spend give back funds for others in our community. It is such a wonderful feeling to give, and I love being a part of this organization. Joy, utter joy, is the best way to describe what it is like to give expecting nothing in return.

In the midst of all this elation filled giving, I received a text message from my sister. Her inquiry was as honest and heartfelt as I had fielded in a while. Recently a dear friend of hers lost her husband in a very tragic way. My heart still hurts for them. My baby sister wanted to know if it was okay to send a Christmas card. Ironically, I had read a blog yesterday about that very topic. My personal experience was so much different than the author’s I struggled just to get through it. Many of the cards and well wishes we received that first Christmas did exactly what the author requested; they acknowledged the hurt we were pushing through.

My first suggestion was to definitely send a card, but to make sure to send a note expressing that you are thinking of her and that you understand how difficult this first Christmas is going to be. All the firsts will be. But to be honest, I found the second year much more challenging than the first. The reality of the empty (chair, stocking, Easter basket, or backpack) of the second year was, for me, much more despair-inducing because the hole was always going to be there. Reed wasn’t coming back, and as a doer, I needed to do something to fill that hole.

The morning after the crash with one son gone and one son fighting for his life in intensive care, my best friend asked me one question. Do I need to go get you some yarn and knitting needles? Like I said, I am a doer. It takes a very special friend to recognize your need “to do something” to help you heal, which ties in to the second suggestion I made to my sister today.

Through my flying fingers, I suggested acknowledge the hurt, but more importantly, DO SOMETHING in her honor of her friend who had passed. An act of kindness or a gift in memory reminds the world the person we loved was here. They mattered. They made a difference. Their light shone brightly while they were here. We had a few of those kinds of cards too. These cards, like soothing balm, told us they were praying for us, they gave to a child in need, they were lighting a candle in our son’s memory or my personal favorite they shared a Reed story.

The healing began through those acts of kindness, no matter how big or small. For a doer like me, the leap to paying it forward wasn’t a hard one to make. Sitting on a board that has a mission of pouring back into its community wasn’t a stretch either. My son loved to give to others, and every time we do, in his name or in private, his light continues to shine . . . like a beacon peeking out from the holes in our hearts.

Cheetahs - Reed's favorite animal. Given as part of the Reed Stevens Memorial Legacy Program at Avera McKennon hospital to any surviving sibling of a child who passes away at the same hospital Reed did.

Cheetahs – Reed’s favorite animal. Given as part of the Reed Stevens Memorial Legacy Program at Avera McKennon hospital to any surviving sibling of a child who passes away at the same hospital Reed did.

12 days: It’s a Wonderful Life

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One of the classes I taught on my recent blog hiatus was Anthropology. Since I am a chemistry and mathematics teacher, social studies was a stretch because outside of required courses for liberal arts I had not really studied these areas in detail for quite a while. I am well read and a lover of history which helped, but I still spent hours in the evening reading all sorts of material that I thought would benefit the students in my classroom. The final unit for the Anthropology class was a cultural anthropology project where the scholars would study their own families and traditions. As I was outlining the expectations for the unit, the students asked for examples for each one.

When we got to favorite family memory, I honestly choked up a little bit. I explained that I had many as a child, but my most favorite memory as an adult occurred on the day my youngest child was born. I told them about the magical moment our family shared that first night together, but my storytelling didn’t include the background of why it is my most precious memory.

Our family lost two babies between our two daughters, and one of those babies is the twin to the little girl celebrating her tenth birthday. Our daughter Erin’s birth was so traumatic that we weren’t sure if we wanted to have more children, but God certainly had other plans. Yet losing two babies within 6 months of each other was more than all of our hearts could take. Following the second loss, I became very ill at school and passed out. When I was at the doctor, they asked if I could be pregnant. Reminding them that 6 weeks previous we had a miscarriage, there was no way I could be pregnant. Imagine my shock when I learned that indeed I was still pregnant with a second baby.

We waited to tell our children because of their brave, but tender hearts. When we finally did, they were excited, but after we put everyone to bed that night, Reed came with tears in his eyes asking us the question heaviest on his heart. “Mom and Dad, are we going to lose this baby too? Because if we do, I just don’t think my heart can handle it.” There was nothing we could do beside hug our redheaded boy and cry and pray with him.

Five people held their breath until that beautiful December day when on her own terms she came into the world. But if there is one thing true about the members of Team Stevens, we live life. We celebrate the big things, but we specialize in the little stuff. Because the big kids were in school at the moment their baby arrived, we decided to get some sleep ourselves (having been up through the night) and our meet-n-greet would occur as soon as school was out.

The moment was joyous. We all breathed a collective gasp of relief, as we prepared to be a family of six here on earth. My sweetie and I had a plan long in the works for how we wanted to spend the evening. The big kids were ecstatic when they learned the details. In addition to the hospital bag with necessities for momma and baby, we sneakily had a bag packed with favorite Christmas movies.

Although it took some coordination with hospital staff, we requested no visitors so we could simply bask in the glow of happiness and joy at receiving one of God’s most beautiful blessings. We had food brought in; shut the door, and all four kids snuggled into the hospital bed with me, daddy tucked in the rocking chair bedside. Our first team huddle was under blankets while watching Christmas favorites on the OB floor; all six of us snuggled so close because we didn’t want to forget one moment.

When I was little, I only wished for two things when I grew up – to be a momma and a teacher. I never imagined the journey either of those dreams would take me. Nestled under cotton blankets, I breathed in every moment of the way God made that happen (once again) at our baby’s very first movie night.

My biggest accomplishment!

My biggest accomplishment!

Day 21: That one Christmas

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Yesterday I had the very wonderful opportunity of attending my annual birthday “party” given to me by my children’s adopted grandmother. It is always such a blessing of a time! She is an amazing cook, but an even more wonderful hostess. Our tradition of making kringla and enjoying lunch with birthday cake is a refreshing blessing to me.

This year’s celebration was simply a little more special as we remembered a precious Christmas. Grandma and Grandpa only shared one advent season with Reed before he passed away. Their “adoption” into our family occurred in the spring. But we celebrated one annual Christmas sleepover together with all of us.

Best carrot cake ever!

Best carrot cake ever!

While enjoying bites of the most divine carrot cake ever made, our conversation settled upon quilts, like the ones I am making for gifts. Grandma asked if I had ever seen the beautiful quilt made for them by the local church. I had indeed. Then we both remembered my sweetie and I have used it at our family Christmas gathering. As my mind raced through the thoughts of that first Noel shared together, I remembered how under that quilt we were supposed to have a soft and cuddly fleece blanket. Grandma raced around the house looking for it to no avail. Eventually, we discovered a young redhead had snuck off to bed and was wrapped snuggly inside it. We survived, but were a little jealous of Reed’s snuggly blanket.

As we were cleaning up the table, I lovingly touched the cake stand. At my first birthday party Grandma did not own one, but wished she did. Her smile told the whole story when she unwrapped one that first Christmas. We all still laugh (and sometimes say in unison) Reed’s clarification of the significance of this gift. Upon opening, he blurted out, “That’s not just any cake stand! It’s a Martha Stewart!” For our little family, that little line is recited as precious way to breathe Reed’s memory into our presence.

Yet, the most special memory to me was the one Grandma had forgotten. One the drive home after our first year, Reed quietly said, “You know guys, I think Grandpa P is the real Santa Claus.”   After a little bit of questioning about this observation, he explained, “Didn’t you see how his eyes twinkle?”

That’s my boy! Keeping the magic of Christmas alive for us all – especially his younger siblings – while always loving Jesus more than most knew possible for twelve years old.

A scene from Grandparent's day - notice Grandpa with the twinkling eyes! Magic or mischief . . . we'll never tell. photo courtesy of Karen Berg

A scene from Grandparent’s day – notice Grandpa with the twinkling eyes! Magic or mischief . . . we’ll never tell. photo courtesy of Karen Berg

May you all have a moment as wonderful and special this Christmas!

The amazing ride

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Dear readers – I am so sorry my posts are infrequent these days. Our family is in the process of remodeling our upstairs. Serving as contractors and work crew between school, church, and work, our progress resembles the tortoise racing the hare – slow and steady. As usual, I have a few blogs that I have been pondering and feel I am ready to tell their stories. Just know that I miss sharing my world with you all. Kandy

Nostalgia, like a comfortable pair of old shoes, is both a gift and a burden I seem to be wearing often these days. Perhaps this sentiment stems from all the transition my family is experiencing: back-to-school, home remodel, and preparation for our son’s senior year of high school. I am fighting back tears as I type those last words. Oh my goodness, my once chubby-cheeked, curly-haired boy is ready to launch. My launch pad locked in old memories isn’t quite ready for the countdown from mission control. Memories, sweet memories, are present at every turn.

Add to all of this, Boy Wonder and I visited with my high school best friend on a recent trip to my childhood hometown. While we were downing chili slaw dogs at The Varsity in Atlanta, we laughed and giggled about our adventures while growing up in Pensacola. I believe Sawyer was amazed to hear I never picked a prom dress without M being present.   He was best friend, my best confidante, and a gentleman of great taste. I am so glad that God has allowed us to reconnect all these years later.

As I grow older (and thus so do my children), stark differences between our childhoods really stand out. This became more obvious as M and I swapped tales over the table. One of those dichotomous details was the prom experience. Back in the day, our prom was typically held at some posh location (country club or beach front hotel), and other than a few chaperones, our parents were nowhere to be found. Not so, for my son. The tradition at our children’s school is to bring bleachers around to the front door of the high school; so that every parent, grandparent, neighbor, friend, family, and school mate can gather around the red carpet (yes there really is one) to watch the young couples arrive for the prom. Remember these young people are the greatest product we produce, out here. Later everyone relocates to the bedecked and resplendent gymnasium to watch the couples promenade for the onlookers. The drive-up portion was utterly and completely foreign to me.

Talk about grand entrance! The pressure to be larger-than-life is palpable. There are classic cars, muscle cars, tractors (c’mon y’all it is rural Minnesota), and jacked up pick-up trucks. The first prom was an easier entrance because there are very few vehicles that Sawyer and Rachel’s special guest, Brayden, could utilize for “stylin’ wheels”. Trust me, full size RV made a statement, but their love for one of Reed’s friends was an even bigger statement.

For last spring’s gala, we were really perplexed as to how to make an entrance. (Listen: I am fully aware of this being a first world problem. So is my son. His solution was to wash and wax his dad’s pick-up and be fine with that.) That was the plan until an e-mail  changed the night.

A friend of ours pointed out a super cool car that was for sale on a local garage sale site. While I would have loved to have been able to purchase said car, it just wasn’t in the cards with the years we have saved to complete this remodel. Dream kitchen versus one night’s ride! Clearly, the kitchen won out. But I have learned that if there is something you desire, you simply garner the courage to ask. The worst that can happen is for you to be told no.

“Be brave! Be bold!” became my motto as I sent a message to the owner of the car (oh which happens to be a classic Corvette). Then I waited. And waited. And waited. Then one day, as I was walking into a spring AAU basketball tournament, I got the call I hoped for, but had no guarantees I would receive. Let me tell you what transpired next left me astounded!

My wait was due to the fact that the gentle spirit and owner of the car, J, had a hard time getting a hold of me. In my original message, I explained who our family is and about how we knew mutual friends. I explained Sawyer’s story, and I also stressed how safe a driver he is because of all he has gone through. My concerns were halted when J said, “You are never going to believe this”. His “unbelievable” story was his rig (as a semi driver) was one of the first to come across the crash that changed our lives forever. He had always wanted to do something for our family, and imagine his shock when he received my request, crazy as it was!

Yes, friends, it takes a special kind of crazy bold, to send a message to a stranger asking, “Hey! Could my 17-year-old son borrow your classic ‘Vette to go the prom?” Proudly, I am that kind of eccentric.

Almost without taking a breath, but yet taking a break from being choked up, J explained that not only would the Boy Wonder be able to drive his car to the prom,  but also he could drive it for the week to get the feel for driving it. J was going to add him to his personal insurance if needed and have it taken in to get a tune up. His only request in return was for my boy to have a good time and send him a few pics.

His words were met with stunned silence as the tears ran down my face and the lump formed in my throat. I am not too proud to tell you I bawled outside that gymnasium, to which I tell you there were more than a few barbed looks tossed my way along the lines of “Lady, it is just a basketball game.”   Normally barbs of such insensitivity would sting. Not today, my friends. Not today! My heart soared because Sawyer is tough to surprise, but more so, the kindness of strangers is awe-inspiring.

Our clandestine rendezvous to procure the dreamy wheels went without a hitch as did the lesson on how to remove and store the T-tops. The twenty mile drive back to our house gave me a chance to live out a high school fantasy as I drove through the countryside, turning heads. This ride was a far cry from the Dodge Omni I drove my junior year. His face was absolutely priceless when his sisters (who were in on the secret) brought him outside. He couldn’t believe someone would do something this kind for him. My boy, almost a man, was genuinely humbled. He couldn’t believe it!

I have been asked many times if I railed at God during our darkest hour. I am no saint, definitely far from perfect, but I can honestly answer that I never did. Questioning how long this pain would endure happened, but anger never came. From dear friends who were with us moments after to new friends (angels on earth) who make the junior prom a night to remember, there have been constant reminders of God’s love every step of the way. So maybe some of that nostalgia I’ve been feeling is a gentle reminder that God has been present in every leg of my life’s journey, including the steps that led me to one sweet ride.

Photo by LSM photography.

Photo by LSM photography.

I had to throw in a couple more photos just to highlight the fact that the Boy Wonder doesn’t always squint in pictures.  The sun was really shining that beautiful sunny day. LSM_4025   LSM_4031

Birthday letter

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Dear Reed –

I am sure that Pastor didn’t know how his words last Sunday would impact me. I had heard the quote before, but for some reason, this time the sentiment washed over my soul as if God himself had given me the explanation.

“If there were no love, there would be no grief.” ~Zig Ziglar

reedhuck

Truer words were never spoken because I love you without end. From the moment we learned we were pregnant to the day we said good-bye here on earth and every single day in between, I have been your mom. I always will be. Even though our moments are memories now, you simply cannot tell the heart to stop loving. It is a heart well that will never go dry. Grief would be nothing if a heart didn’t love so deeply. Although, it hurts not having you here, I could never stop being your momma, even if I wanted to.

Sometimes, I think there are people who wish that we didn’t share our journey. This will come as no surprise to you. I really don’t care what they think. They didn’t get the chance to love you the way we did, with a love that defies the boundaries of heaven and earth.

Though our eyes may sometimes be clouded by grief, our hearts are always reminded that as much as we love you God loves you and us more! His beloved Son erased those boundaries so someday we will see you again. Definitely a love without end!

Today has been a delicate tightrope balance, because your birthday falls on Father’s Day. This has only happened twice since you passed away, but it is really a hard day for Dad. I was always jealous of how he had you to hold on his first Father’s Day, just a few days after you were born. Today, I just hurt for him. I think he often wonders what you would be like now, especially after seeing your friends return home from their first year of college.

Both of us are trying to prepare our hearts for Sawyer leaving home next year. Maybe it is because we didn’t get to share all those moments with you; both of us are savoring every moment. We want to hold on with a grip that would keep him young, yet we watch him navigate in a world as amazing person, knowing he is going to do great things. He follows in your footsteps, yet leaving a mark distinctly his own. If you were here, I know you would agree “The FORCE is strong with him.”

Sister is doing well, especially after hearing the news that she would play again after her injury. Just like that time you carried her after her bike crash, I know you would have gently carried her again telling her she was tough. You were there cheering her on. One of the most tender sibling moments ever is one she carries with her as she loves on all the little children that she babysits.

Huck, your four-legged best friend, is doing better than he has for a long while. He moves a little slower, but on a recent trip to “visit” you he moved without haste to lay next to his boy. Cloie is doing her best to help keep him young.

cloie & huck

Speaking of our little Sally Gal, she is perhaps your greatest legacy. So much of her identity is you. Everyone calls her my mini-me, but her personality is a mini-Reed. Just yesterday, we finished reading one of your favorite summertime books, “Love, Ruby Lavender”.   She laughed at exactly the same spots. In her giggle, I heard your laughter. In her repeating the good parts, I heard your voice. I loved it all. Though there were struggles to get her here, I am so glad that God gave us her, but more so, that she came packaged with your heart. It does mine good in so many ways.

Just like you always wanted to do, we once again celebrated your birthday with blizzards for supper tonight. So much better than “Happy Birthday”, the cardinal serenading us as we drove into the driveway was one of those amazing small glimpses of heaven.

The invisible boundary between heaven and earth doesn’t prevent grief, but neither does it stop love.

By God’s design, a momma’s love is a force much stronger than that.

Loving you always

Momma