I remember you like yesterdays...

"Yesterdays"
by Switchfoot

Flowers cut and brought inside
Black cars in a single line
Your family in suits and ties
And you're free

The ache I feel inside
Is where the life has left your eyes
I'm alone for our last goodbye
But you're free

I remember you like yesterday, yesterday
I still can't believe you're gone, oh...
I remember you like yesterday, yesterday
And until I'm with you, I'll carry on

Adrift on your ocean floor
I feel weightless, numb, and sore
A part of you in me is torn
And you're free

I woke from a dream last night
I dreamt that you were by my side
Reminding me I still had life
In me

I'll carry on

Every lament is a love song
Yesterday, yesterday
I still can't believe you're gone
So long my friend, so long

It's been five years since we said an unwilling goodbye to our ten-year-old, Caleb. Of course, we set this day aside to reflect, more than we do in just our daily routine because, honestly, there's still not one single day that goes by that I don't think about him.

After five years, the grieving process gets a little different. I guess the grieving and remembering are more concentrated on days like today, his birthday and Mother's/Father's Day. There are still those random things, though that creep up and kind of nab you when you're not expecting it. Sometimes having to "go there" trashes the rest of my day and sometimes I stumble a bit, get my footing and go on. I suppose it will always be like that.

I don't want it to seem like it's a big inconvenience that I have this in my life, messing up otherwise ideal or perfect days. On the other hand, though, I don't like it. I'll never like the fact that I set the table for five instead of six. I'll never get used to the fact that I should have two boys in high school now instead of one. I hate that my nine-year-old has very fuzzy memories of the brother he lost when he was only four. There's nothing about losing my son that is fair or that I like.

But when I stop and breathe in and stop banging my fists, there is this standstill peace that God is still in control. I have no choice but to trust Him until we're done here on this side of eternity and I can see my son again and thank my God for not giving me more than I could handle without His strength (though it didn't always feel like it) and I suppose maybe I'll know why. But I might not.

So today, I blog as a huge part of my process, and we Stevens will cling as we remember and continue to process our loss and heaven's gain.

Do me a favor though? Just love on those kids of yours. Not out of fear of what you could lose. but just because God put them there.

Tragedy

My heart is so heavy for the family of Steven Curtis Chapman this morning as I heard the news of the accidental death of their five-year-old daughter.

I want badly to reach out to them somehow, but I don't know how. It's one of those situations where I can truly understand how they feel today. I'm familiar with the pain that lingers through the next days, weeks and years. How you wake up and the pain is still there. How you still run across pieces of laundry months later or other simple household papers that send you into tears. I want to tell and show then that they'll still be walking and breathing two and a half years from now. There will still be that hole, but God will help make it hurt a little less. Or a little more sometimes. Or a little different...

I've been praying particularly hard for their teenage son who was driving the car. They have layers of healing ahead, but I know God is able to be there every step of the way. I am praying for His supernatural presence and hand in their lives today.

I'm praying for a way to contact them somehow. I don't know if they need to hear from a perfect stranger right now, but... I don't know. I just want to make contact somehow.

Once again, friends, hold life carefully. It is precious and merely a grain of sand.

My love/hate relationship with Mother's Day

So yesterday was Mother's Day.

First off, I love my mom. She's really quite cool. And besides just our genetic connection, we share a lot of common interests; music, crochet, shopping, eBay, Arbonne, DDR, chick flicks, reading (we like a lot of the same authors), etc. Plus, I have a great deal of admiration for her in the resilience department. She was a single mom for a short period of time with two baby girls, just over a year apart. As is the natural progression, I appreciate her more in my own motherhood as time progresses. So my mom is pretty superior and the right mom for me.

I was also inundated with homemade cards, flowers and other Mother's Day paraphernalia yesterday. We had to drop Matt off early at church because he had to play on the worship team so the boys were to "take me" out to breakfast (with me driving, of course). We tried Cracker Barrell first, but, as you might imagine, the line was down the sidewalk. Then Waffle House, but that looked equally crowded. So we ended up at Dunkin Donuts, which was quite fine with me, actually. As we went through the drive-through, Josh pulled out a handful of cash. My response was, "Oh, look at how cute you are with your little money!" LOL.

Overall, the boys and Matt were wonderful with the day, offering to do things and asking what else I wanted. I so appreciate them and feel very blessed.

But then there's...

The first year after Caleb died, we made it through the big firsts - Thanksgiving and Christmas, his birthday - and in my mind, I was home free. Well, Mother's Day snuck up and "sucker punched" me. It hit me so very hard. So I guess I've been on the defense a bit since then.

Why does it have to be that my least favorite question now is, "How many children do you have?" I never minded it before. I would proudly brag about my four boys and tell about how crazy and loud it was, all with a smile on my face. Now I have to decide, do I tell them? Do I share about Cub and totally put a damper on this conversation? Or do I just offer "three" and try to move on to something else?

It's been almost three years. I still feel the void. I'll always feel the void. My friend, Bethany, just said to me the other day that when she sees our family, she still notices that someone is missing.

It's almost harder now that life has gone on so much longer without him. We've fallen into such a new normal that it's hard to remember the old one. My heart is filled with gratitude for what we have and what God has done, but there will always be that missing piece.

When I was a kid, I couldn't understand why some people didn't enjoy holidays -- why holidays made them sad. I think we all understand that more as we get older. And I always WANT to find the positive and the reasons to rejoice, but it also heps me to be able and "allowed" to work further into this grieving process.

As a family, we move on to focus on Jacob, our baby, turning seven this week. Seven! There's miniature golf in our near future by his choice and we're looking forward to celebrating a fresh year of growth for him.

As always, I wish God's greatest blessings for you! :-)

Loss - part 2

There is something about devastating loss that makes my stomach hurt.

Today, my mind is on an 8-year-old boy who is returning to school after losing his mother, three sisters and step-sister in a horrible car accident. This little boy goes to the same elementary school as my two youngest kids; he's actually a friend of my 8-year-old.

What's been haunting me even more is the image described to me by my youngest son yesterday. He told me that kids have been writing sad notes and pictures and putting them on the locker of this boy's younger sister (a second-grader) who was one of the victims of the accident. I've seen her picture and can't seem to get her adorable little, braided-hair smiling face out of my mind.

Both of my son's had substitutes yesterday because their teachers were attending the funeral. Teacher's shouldn't have to attend funerals! They should only be visited by students who have gone on the middle school and want to stop in to say hello.

Despite God's sovereignty and goodness of nature, nothing seems fair about a child dying. Nothing. Trust me -- I've explored probably every aspect of it over and over again. Everything about childhood is filled with innocence and goodness. When they're just "gone", it perverts the very nature of the whole thing.

Obviously, incidents like this bring me back very close to our own loss. I can't help it. And I don't know if that will ever change. There are times that fear wants to overtake me and I feel like life is an egg that I'm carrying around, hoping it won't roll off of my hand and break. Sometimes I'm fine. Honestly, I'm fine more often than I'm not, but when it hits hard, it hurts.

Jut please do me a favor and pray for this little boy. He has a long road ahead of him.

It's going to be worth it...

Happy New Year! I hope your celebration was a good one. We had a party, about which I will blog later...

I was doing my devotions this morning (and especially enjoying a quiet house in almost two weeks!). I started by praying and thinking through the whole new year thing. I find myself asking God how things like this are observed in heaven. My thoughts have been more heaven-focused in the last two and a half years because of Caleb being there. I wondered if they watch all of the fireworks from Sidney to Los Angeles, though I'm sure they don't compare with anything in heaven itself. In any event, it still helps me to imagine celebrations and birthday parties for Jesus and the like. And there's Caleb with a grand spot at the banquet table right between Grandma Dot and George Washington!

Anyway, I prayed about some more things going on in our life, especially filled with gratitude for some recent open doors. I decided to do a devotional out of the Women of Faith Bible that my mom got me for Christmas (I've enjoyed their ministry, especially after attending a conference in Columbus last April and meeting cool people like Michelle ;-). The devotional I read today was by Patsy Clairmont and was titled Freedom from Perfectionism -- right up my alley. But the devotional held something for me that I wasn't expecting. The following is a passage from said devotional:

There's something about loss that has the potential to take us by the hand and help us find a way to survive outside the context of our pain.

I have found that my mistakes often lead to a clearer resolve, my losses often bulldoze a path to untapped courage, and my limitations can teach internal liberty by God's grace.

Not only do I want to make the mistakes in my life to mess with my perfectionism so that God can show Himself in my imperfection, but I am hoping that I may also learn -- no, embrace -- this year that, through my family's loss, God can give us strength that we never knew we had. Would I give up what we've gone through to not have that strength? You'd better believe it. But that was not God's plan. His plan is to use our painful loss to glorify Himself and manifest the strength in us that we didn't even know we could possess. At first, I would say to God, "I think you've got the wrong person. I don't think I can make it through this." But God knew from the beginning what he was doing. I still wouldn't chose this for myself, but for some reason God did.

I realized a while back that everyone has their "one big thing" with which they're struggling. It may not be the loss of a child like mine is, but it's just as big to you as that is to me. It may be a disappointment, divorce, job loss, broken relationship -- in any event, there's loss. Maybe God wants to use that loss to give you strength you didn't know you could have, too.

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Worth It All - Rita Springer

I don't understand Your ways
Oh but I will give You my song
Give You all of my praise
You hold on to all my pain
With it You are pulling me closer
And pulling me into Your ways

Now around every corner
And up every mountain
I'm not looking for crowns
Or the water from fountains
I'm desperate in seeking, frantic believing
That the sight of Your face
Is all that I need
I will say to You

It's gonna be worth it
It's gonna be worth it
It's gonna be worth it all
I believe this
It's gonna be worth it
It's gonna be worth it
It's gonna be worth it all
I believe this

You're gonna be worth it
You're gonna be worth it
You're gonna be worth it all
I believe this
You're gonna be worth it
You're gonna be worth it
You're gonna be worth it all
I believe this

God does understand...

Wow. I will adopt this as my thought of the day. View with a tissue... this is touching ;-)

Two years...

“You can shed tears because he is gone,

or you can smile because he has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that he'll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all he's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see him,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember him only that he is gone,
or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what he'd want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”

My sweet, little friend, Emily Kopp, had that on her myspace with Cub's picture. I'm not sure where it came from; if it's a lyric to a song or a poem. I just know I liked it.

Yes, today marks two years since the car accident that ended our son, Caleb's, life at the age of ten. It's still a painful fuzz even after so much time and so many events. I have a lot on my heart today so, if you wish to ride along today, hang on.



Is Caleb still ten years old in heaven or has he celebrated the last two birthdays and turned twelve? Does he still like to skateboard, play soccer and draw pictures like he did here? Does he get to hang out with all of our relatives that have already passed on? Did God tell him how many freckles he has on his face? I tried to count them once. Did his teeth ever come in? Were they as crooked as they looked like they were going to be? I know. His earthly body is still here (we were explaining that again today to Jacob at the cemetery). It's just helps to speculate, I suppose.

To those of you that remembered that today was what it is, thank you. It blesses me so much when people remember. It keeps him "alive" in a weird sort of way? Sometimes, I worry that other people forget he was here altogether (though I know they don't) and when other people mention him, it makes me happy that he's still in their mind and heart.

Last night, I sat and listened to a song that I normally avoid. As I did, I pictured him in each stage of his life. It's SO hard to remember sometimes (with any of my children, really). My favorite part, which is the hardest to hear, is the end. I love the way it's worded.

"Weak and wounded sinner,
Lost and left to die,
O, raise your head for Love is passing by

Come to Jesus,
Come to Jesus,
Come to Jesus and live

Now your burden's lifted,
And carried far away,
And precious blood has washed away the stain... so

Sing to Jesus ,
Sing to Jesus ,
Sing to Jesus and live

And like a newborn baby,
Don't be afraid to crawl,
And remember when you walk sometimes we fall... so

Fall on Jesus,
Fall on Jesus,
Fall on Jesus and live

Sometimes the way is lonely,
And steep and filled with pain,
So if your sky is dark and pours the rain... then

Cry to Jesus,
Cry to Jesus,
Cry to Jesus and live

O, and when the love splills over,
And music fills the night,
And when you can't contain you joy inside... then

Dance for Jesus,
Dance for Jesus,
Dance for Jesus and live

And with your final heartbeat,
Kiss the world goodbye,
Then go in peace, and laugh on Glory's side... and

Fly to Jesus,
Fly to Jesus,
Fly to Jesus and live"

When Caleb passed away, someone gave us a copy of L.B. Cowman's daily devotional, "Streams in the Desert". Matt and I have read it together on several occasions. It's almost scary how this book coincides with our lives. Date for date, the words are always timely.

We keep it in the car which might seem strange, but for us it works. The boys and I were waiting in the car to leave for church this morning and I happened to pick it up, realizing that I had never looked at the August 5th reading. I turned to the page. The following is what I found there:

God was "pleased" (I Cor. 1:21) to take my youngest child from this world, under circumstances that caused me severe trials and pain (note - I don't remember reading before that she had lost a child). And as I returned home from the church cemetery, having just laid my little one's body in the grave, I felt a compulsion to preach to my people on the meaning of trials.

I found that the verse "My grace is sufficient for you" was the text of next week's Sunday School lesson, so I chose it as my Master's message to the congregation, as well as His message to me. Yet while trying to write the sermon, I found that in all honesty, I could not say that the words were true in my life. Therefore, I knelt down and asked the Lord to make His grace sufficient for me. While I was pleading in this way, I opened my eyes and saw this exact verse framed and hanging on the wall. My mother had given it to me a few days before, when I was still at the vacation resort where our little child had been taken from us. I had asked someone to hang it on the wall at home during my absence but had not yet noticed its words. Now as I looked up and wiped my eyes, the words met my gaze: "My grace is sufficient for you."

The word is was highlighted in bright green, while the words my and you were painted yet another color. In a moment, a message flashed straight to my soul, coming as a rebuke for having prayed such a prayer as, "Lord, make Your grace sufficient for me." His answer was almost an audible voice that said, "How dare you ask for something that is? I can not make my grace any more sufficient than I have already made it. Get up and believe it, and you will find it to be true in your life."

Life is hard. The bible says it will be. But we serve a God who has sufficient grace. Do I always feel so much at peace with this fact? No. I still have nights that I scream out in my head to God about my loss. Whether I chose to live in His grace or not, it's still there be offered.

I love and miss my son and can't wait until I get to hold him again. Until then, I want to seek God out for my purpose on this grain of sand and will really try to live in that state of offered grace.

Blessings and love.

A favor...

Hey friends.

Just a quick favor.

I was wondering if you happen to read this before Sunday morning, if you could pray for me. I've been asked to sing and share at our friends Pastor Tom and Rosalind Swind's church tomorrow morning. I don't mind the singing part, but speaking always makes me nervous -- plus Mother's Day can be a bit of a difficult holiday for me. I am actually going to share about Caleb tomorrow and tell my story of God's goodness and faithfulness in the midst of sorrow. Please pray that God speaks to the hearts of the people beyond my words.

Thanks... and a very beautiful Mother's Day to my mother (of course;-) and all my mommy friends out there!

February 21, 1995

Twelve years ago today, after four very easy hours of labor, our son, Caleb, came into this world. He was such a good baby – very sweet, slept a lot, really not any trouble at all. That’s pretty much the way the rest of his ten years went.

You know, life is really strange sometimes. When your child is born, you just naturally assume that you’ll never have to experience life without them. Little did we know, as we stroked his little head, that ten years was all we were going to have with him. I’m strangely comforted, though, in the fact that God knew. He had a mission for Caleb from the very start and knew that his journey would be shorter than most.



It’s natural for me to want to speculate about Caleb on his birthday or any random day, really. I want to wonder how tall he would have been now, how he would have liked middle school, if he would have had a girlfriend. But I’ve realized that there is no use in speculating. Caleb was never meant to turn twelve today. As hard as that is to swallow, God had a ten-year mission for him on this side of eternity. That’s all. We can “what if” and “how come” until we’re blue in the face, but the fact is that God has all of our days written out and that His plan supercedes all.

Our son’s life has and will continue to touch others. Whether it’s someone hearing of his faith or how God has sustained us through these events, God WILL be glorified in this situation.

Please don’t get me wrong, friends. My heart is breaking on this milestone day. I can’t put into words how much I miss my son. It’s just that eternity seems so close sometimes. My husband was with our son as he slipped from one side of time to the other and it doesn’t seem that far away (and at other times seems like an eternity in itself!).

(Joshua - 16 months, Caleb - a few weeks old; March 1995)

I will say it again and again. Each and every day is a gift from God. He promised us that it would be hard, but with His strength to get through it. I see His love and compassion through so many thinking of us today – friends who have, in the midst of their own busy lives and schedules, taken the time to remember that today is a notable on for our family. For that, I am so blessed and thankful.

God is good, my friends. Please rest in that today.

Sunday

NOTE: I tried to post this yesterday (Monday) but blogspot was being quite stubborn. So jump in your time machine... and read it yesterday.

So I guess I’m a big liar.

I really should have learned in my 34 years of life to never use the words, “I promise.” Sets you up for no good often enough.

Yeah, so I didn’t blog. I am encouraged, however, that there have been some peeps checking up on me, so if you’re still tuning in despite my absence… thanks ☺ It really does mean a lot.

When I was a kid, I tried on many occasions to keep a diary. I would do well for while and then fall behind. I would then make a list of the things I wanted to record – dates and events – so I could do everything in order to make it look like I didn’t let huge amounts of time lapse. In retrospect, that was a little silly. I’ve decided not to do that here. As tempted as I am to “back-blog” about lots of cool stuff, I will not. I will blog today about what’s on my mind and as past stuff comes to it, I’ll include it. So there. If that means New Year’s party pictures in March, so be it.

Please keep reading, dear reader. I’ve got some interesting stuff on the noggin to share.

Yesterday was Sunday. Matt and I have a good friend named Rachel whom we’ve known for about seven years -- ever since we’ve been in Baltimore actually. She and her good-looking crew of boys joined us at church yesterday which was really cool. We’ve been hoping she could visit for a long time. We loaded up all the kiddos after the service with plans to drive across the street to the mall for lunch. We pulled up in front to see if Rach had gotten the message of where to meet us when her oldest son, Gavin, said, “Miss Katy, my mom said she has someone inside that she wants you to meet.” So I hustled inside.

There are times in your life where God just sets you up in a very cool way. Allow me to rewind for a moment. Over a year ago, I had heard of a family who’s daughter (five years old at the time) was diagnosed with a face tumor. We prayed for Christina at our women’s Bible study (ironically held at Rachel’s apartment) and at school last year with my 6th graders. Rachel actually got a chance to meet and spend time with her and her family while volunteering at Johns Hopkins last fall. This past spring we heard of Christina’s passing after a long struggle and it was devastating to me. It really did hit me hard. I did hear though, in the midst of all the sorrow, that her family had an incredible testimony of faith, particularly her mother.

Well, yesterday after church, I found myself in the embrace of this mother, Trae Bennington. I had heard so much about her, I almost felt as if I were meeting a celebrity. Trae has heard part of our story and I was so thankful for the instant bond we felt. When you lose a child, there is nothing like looking in the eyes of someone who has felt the same pain. We have plans to meet for lunch soon and connect some more.

February is a hard month. Today marks 18 months since Caleb died. The 21st of this month would have been his 12th birthday. It’s still hard. Very hard some days.

There is just something very raw and refreshing about being face to face with someone who has experienced pain like you have. Our circumstances were different in that theirs was a longer process and ours was very sudden – I haven’t decided if one is “easier” than the other. I look forward to a new connection which, I feel, was set-up by God.

More to come later. Lighter stuff, like pictures of my new mailbox!


PS - If you want to click on Christina's link, the user name is christina, password is jesussaves

Loss

I went to the cemetery today. I don't go very often. It's too hard sometimes.

I talk to Caleb at the cemetery. I know he's not there and he can't here me, but I talk to him anyway. I think I do it more for me than for him. Actually, I know I do.

What prompted me to go is his little brother. Our youngest, Jacob, has been talking about Caleb more than ever lately. We were pulling into the Walmart parking lot yesterday and heard Jacob crying in the backseat. I asked him what was wrong and he just said, "Caleb" and burst into tears. He acted similarly the rest of the day and even a little today (I'm kind of concerned about school for him tomorrow. They've been off the last two days). Jacob was only four when his brother died. Though it's been just over a year and he's only five now, I still wonder if the reality of what has happened is starting to sink in. I just tell him that he can think about and cry about Caleb as much as he wants. And if he wants to think about him and not cry, that's OK, too.

Loss is such a weird process. Abnormal or unexpected loss more so. I mean, we all have loss. Everyone can relate to losing a grandparent and, sadly and eventually, a parent. My heart breaks for those who lose a spouse. This loss of a child is so...

There are no words. Or manuals. Just layers. And when you think you have worked through your layers, more peel back and are somehow deeper. I told my friend, Sue, that after a year, the highs get a little higher so it seems that when you do fall, you fall further.

So I stand in a cemetery and think about and talk to and miss my ten-year-old. I cry. I push back how much I miss him and think about all that he is experiencing with his Father. That helps. I kiss his grave marker before I leave every time.

And then I go home to three beautiful boys and an incredible husband. I thank God for every day we have and everything with which we have been blessed.

And continue this journey...

Monday thoughts...

I noticed something this morning. I had just put the boys on the bus and was letting Tucker out in the back yard (did I mention I LOVE my backyard?) and I noticed the trees.

The leaves on the trees in the backyard are starting to change color.

You're probably thinking, "Katy, you do know the leaves change color every year, don't you?"

Yes. I know that.

Last year, though, I missed a lot of things. Last September in my mind was a fuzz of greiving, and when I wasn't doing that, teaching school. I completely missed fall last year. I didn't notice it until they had already fallen off the trees.

I also realized I was home alone (Matt is in Denver doing a CR weekend) and was OK with that. See, I'm not the kind of person that does as well alone as I do with others and, after Caleb died, I had really issues with being home alone.

I'm just very aware today of God's healing. We have been through a season of intense mourning. Not that we don't still miss him. He's talked about every day in our home. It seems now that we are in a season of enjoying and appreciating God's grace, blessings and goodness.

I like it.

My final thought for the day. A bathroom shared by two little boys, five and seven, can get really disgusting. I cleaned it today. They're like little heathens. YUCK!

Have a good week :-D

Friday, August 5, 2005

I wrote the following in my journal this morning:

A year ago today, my world came undone.

After a year, it still doesn't seem real.

I miss that beautiful, caring child more than I could ever put into words.

I've come to some conclusions, though, over the course of this past year. God owes us nothing. Every single day is a gift. If it's a good day, then it is a bonus. Even the ten years we had with Caleb - it was a gift. We didn't have to have any years at all, but we were graciously given ten -- a decade. And what a wonderful decade it was. To have a young man who has left behind such a legacy -- you can't make that happen. Only God can.

I won't be unrealisitc about this. My heart hurts like I never thought it could. Sometimes, in my head, I scream my questions at God. I see what my husband and son have had to experience and truly wonder why. I see my son without his partner and best friend re-learning how to live. I see two little boys whose memories of their big brother may someday be only something faint.

I know it's not fair but neither is God. He is just, though.

I got this as part of an email from my friend, Iris, yesterday:

"i was thinking about caleb today.

i was thinking about the fact that he was about my daughter's age when i met him.

even at that young age his loving qualities were very evident.

i remember how he was so giving and thoughtful even at that age...

when other children were still learning the concept of sharing... he just knew.

his sensitivity grew with every person he met.

in caleb's world, everyone's feelings mattered.

i love caleb.

and i just wanted to let you know that i was thinking about him.

he's just beautiful... and when someone's beautiful... their image is burned into your memory... it's locked away somewhere deep within the pocket in your heart."

Fortunately, today is a beautiful day. It feels like a day to be happy, so I will as much as possible. To those who have called, texted and emailed; if I don't get back to you, thank you. Thank you for remembering, praying for us, being in our life.


On another note, we have been very blessed with having folks in our home lately -- the biggest reason I wanted a bigger house with more rooms. I love having people over!! Matt's ministry partner, Jeremy, is here for a few days and we've enjoyed his company. My friend from way back, Debbie, is flying in on Monday. She and I share a lot of common interests; crocheting, sign language. She actually has experienced the loss of a child, too. Another thing, sadly, that binds us together. My parents and sister were here last weekend. They all helped out tremendously and we had a little fun in the midst of it, too.

I'm blessed to hear that there are people out there reading my blog. Please comment. It's not hard. You do have to sign up with blogger, but you don't necessarily have to blog.

My heart is really quite full of love for those dear friends and family out there. More happy blogging coming soon. I'm behind on some other thoughts I'd like to share, but... another day...

Sad

I have honestly tried to make all of my blogs fairly happy and positive, but I now need to pull on the therapuetic advantages of a blog. I'm really down tonight. I didn't think Mother's Day coming would be that hard. I just planned to ignore it like I have with all of the other holidays since Caleb died. but this one is hitting me harder than I thought it would. There's no way when we celebrated last year that I had any idea I wouldn't have one of my sweet boys with me a year later.

I really do trust God that his way is best. I can't say that I agree or would chose to have things go the way they have, but I choose to trust his infinite wisdom.

I just miss him so darn much. I told Matt the other night that it's getting harder to remember specifics about him. There are things I will always have ingrained in my mind, but the day to day mannerisms and stuff like that are getting a little harder. Makes me wish I had just follwed him around with a video camera for a couple of days -- just reguar ordinary days. And it's hard to find the balance between thinking about things a lot to remember but not too much so that you can't function.

If you read this, thank you for caring and keeping up with my journey. My family and I could still use your prayers. Please also pray for my friend, Barb, and her daughter, Kate, who lost their mom/grandma today.

-sigh-

I sincerely hope you enjoy time with your mom/kids this Mother's Day. God is so good to give us each other...