Monthly Archives: February 2013

An amazing “AHA” moment

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bulb can be found at www.nostalgicbulbs.com

bulb can be found at www.nostalgicbulbs.com

I had one of those “Aha” moments yesterday.  It was truly a game changer for me.  As a scientist, I’ve always loved the story of Archimedes jumping out of the bathwater when he discovered the method to prove that the king’s crown was truly gold.  Although it is rumored he yelled, “Eureka”, that is my favorite historical “Aha” moment.  As a teacher, I have always enjoyed the times when I saw the light bulb turn on for a student.  It’s that moment when you get a glimpse into a student taking knowledge and making it their own.  Bringing big smiles to me, those moments are priceless.

My epiphany yesterday came about in an unexpected way.  I needed to travel for a business meeting, and my ministry partner who was to travel with me was needed to care for her mom.  Utilizing the best network of friends I have, I posted on Facebook asking if anyone was free for a quick trip to Sioux Falls.  Luckily for me, a friend and her little boy (whom I lovingly call Turnip) were free and up for a road trip.

I have known this friend for more than a year, but we’ve never had this kind of just the two of us time together before.  I was looking forward to it, and I was so thankful for the company.  Turnip isn’t a bad companion either.  He rode along as a little trooper in his car seat.  I will never turn down an opportunity to snuggle with him – ever!

As the day progressed, we spent our travel time just swapping stories and getting to know each other better.  Turns out, we have a lot in common.  She probably discovered what most of my friends do – I have a story about everything!  At some point, we were sharing some pretty amazing stories of how God has handled things in our life.  I don’t really know how it happened, but she was telling of an amazing opportunity of when God had put her in a place to truly bless some strangers.

As she was telling her story, it was almost as if God dropped some knowledge on that mini-van that went straight to my heart.  Sometimes, I just need to get out of my own way.  That seems theoretically impossible, but what I mean is that sometimes, I let MY plans, MY worries, MY fears, and MY failures, get in the way of God’s.  I really get bent out of shape if MY plans go awry.

Listening to her story, I realized that every single time that MY plans didn’t, well, go as planned. God had either set me up to be blessed more or placed me to bless someone else.  That knowledge was a humbling game changer.  I thought about how God had lovingly given me a new set of skills for the next plan that falls apart.  I need to adjust my horizon by praying, “Okay God! I don’t know what’s coming but I’m ready to be blessed or to bless someone.  And I’m listening.”

When that light bulb went on in my head, I am fairly certain that the Ultimate Teacher smiled. 

The grand finale . . . the last Reed’s Run

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Drawing Copyrighted property of Reed's Run

Drawing Copyrighted property of Reed’s Run

Well this is it.  I feel like I am sending my baby off to kindergarten.  I have loved, nurtured, worried, fretted, and spent many hours praying for Reed’s Run, and now, it’s time to send it off.  I carry in my heart precious memories of a job well done, funds raised, and hope given.  To say farewell, I am just going to give a list (not all-inclusive) of some of those favorite memories.

  • Friends and family working together to remember and honor
  • Honoring veterans each and every year (including remembering Jason Timmerman)
  • The friends from the Patriot Guard coming (even if unofficial)
  • Being able to publicly thank all of the first responders.
  • That flag over the start/finish line – took my breath away!
  • Friends arriving that were a surprise to me
  • Family flying/driving in from all over the country
  • Hosting a Grampa’s Amp concert
  • Students taking a stand (I will never forget what they did.)
  • All the hugs!
  • The Reed stories that came out.
  • Remembering all the children gone much too soon. The luminaries were always my favorite, especially during the movies.
  • Remembering three adult friends who offered healing to us and now are gone before we ready.
  • Honoring those who have inspired us.
  • The Star Wars theme song!
  • Seeing the t-shirts everywhere!
  • The generosity of our neighbors!
  • The joy of the runners, walkers, and kid runners!
  • Cheetahs and all the love!
  • Popcorn stands, Boy Scouts & Girl Scouts!

Finally, the most important memory is the message that we worked so hard to send.  Healing comes from a firm foundation rooted in the love and sacrifice of Jesus Christ and from the all the many hands & feet (and HEARTS) of a loving community reaching out in love.

To rise from tragedy . . . cling to HOPE!

Thank you for being the hearts that offered hope and healing!

 

The most amazing gift . . . the last Reed’s Run

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reed's eagleAs the CEM (Chief Executive Momma) of this family, it is very difficult to surprise me.  Oh, I love surprises. When there are always little ears and eyes, a lot of “oopsies” moments happen.  The other reason for the lack of surprises in my life is the fact that I am a planner.  When looking at details from carpools to holidays and from appointments to events, I am usually the keeper of all that goes on around here.

The ten months of planning that it took to pull off Reed’s Run each year were fraught with lots and lots of lists.  Auction lists, t-shirts, website updates, marketing, parade promotions, registration forms, medals, volunteers . . . the list went on and on.  Exhausting, but in the end so worth it.

On the actual day, I flit about often being pulled in many different directions.  I rarely eat, and I hug lots of people.  I share a few tears, but none have compared to this year’s finale.

Everything was running smoothly (albeit not without a few bumps in the road).  So to those that shielded me, THANK YOU and those that offered grace, THANK YOU even more!  We finally got down to the last parts of the evening, the awards ceremony, the Jesus Painter performance, and the movie.  I was up on the stage announcing the winners of the various medals and was to introduce Mike Lewis for the worship time.

As I concluded the awards, all of a sudden I see Matthew (my high school best friend) coming toward the stage.  I really wish this were videotaped, because I can only imagine what my face actually looked like.  My mind was thinking, “This is weird.  I haven’t seen you in twenty-three years, but I wasn’t expecting a deviation from my plan.”  As he came on stage and took the microphone from me, I am certain I was questioning his judgment and mine.

What happened next, I never saw coming.  But as I saw one of Reed’s former Scout masters in uniform also coming forward, my knees grew weak and the flood gate of tears opened up.  Matt explained how he was so excited to be here and about our friendship.  He then told the tale of how he had made arrangements with Reed’s former troop for this special occasion.  He shared about his summer long ago at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico, and how I was his pen pal while he was gone.  They were special memories.

Because of some kind of rule on timelines in the BSA, Reed couldn’t be awarded his own Eagle Scout.   Sobbing in front of everyone, I heard one of the sweetest tales ever told.  My dear friend decided Reed would indeed be earning his Eagle Scout, just not in the normal way. The gift he gave in honor our sweet redheaded boy is truly the embodiment of scouting.

We were handed Reed’s Eagle Scout award, his Eagle neckerchief, and a Philmont Scout Ranch patch.  The Boy Scout Law states all the qualities that define scouts.  A Scout is: Trustworthy, Loyal, Helpful, Friendly, Courteous, Kind, Obedient, Cheerful, Thrifty, Brave, Clean, and Reverent.  What it doesn’t say is that a Scout gives sacrificially, because in this magical moment, that’s exactly what happened.

The award placed in my trembling hands was Matthew’s own Eagle Scout award, “re-awarded” to Reed.  Engraved on the award is the motto, Be Prepared.  There was no way my heart was prepared for this surprise as it was truly an amazing gift.

A joyful noise . . . the last Reed’s Run

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I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me. Psalm 13:6 (NIV)

About this time last year, the first graders at Lakeview were learning to sing the National Anthem.  I don’t recall, but it might have had to do with curriculum on President’s Day.  One day, Clo came home and told us she could sing it.  All of us big people were more than skeptical.  Yet we entertained the possibility and listened.  She could do it.  Some of the words were wrong, but the tune was spot on.

As the months and weeks moved along in the countdown to the final run, we started to check off the preparations completed.  One box left open was the singing of the National Anthem for the opening ceremonies.  As we were preparing for the first team meeting, that conversation came up.  In the past, we have had friends including one of Reed’s best friends sing our country’s song.  We were considering asking a former classmate who has stayed in contact with our family.  When somewhat like the mouse that roared, our little Clo chimed in.  “I thought I was going to sing the National Anthem!”

You could have heard a pin drop.  Our thoughts: there would likely be a large crowd. Would nerves get the best of her? That is a hard song to sing.  Would she be able to do it well?  What about her hearing impairment?  What if she isn’t hearing well again in September? But quickly, we all realized that the hang-ups were ours, not hers, and since the run is about her big brother, it would probably be a forgiving audience.

cloie (3)For those that don’t know the background story, our littlest girl was born deaf.  She went an entire year of life before she heard a sound.  Thankfully, she has mechanical deafness caused by Eustachian tube defect.  She started having surgeries at the age of one to restore/correct her hearing loss.  To be able to sing is one thing.  To have excellent pitch is entirely another.

To ensure success, we enlisted the help of our neighbor (who Clo adores AND who happens to be a vocal music teacher).  From there, we just let her sing and sing and sing.  My ears will never get tired of it, because I remember the days of walking into her room in the morning.  She sat in her crib and didn’t have any idea I was there.  I remember the days of holding her and having her little hand on my throat because she somehow realized that there was a connection to my mouth moving and the vibrations she felt. I remember her not making sounds; so if she wanted to sing, we were going to let her.

She practiced.  She sang, and she sang some more.  Finally, came the big day! If she was nervous, she never let it show.  With a microphone held steady by me, she belted out the National Anthem as if her voice was strengthened by choirs of angels.  She nailed it.  It was so moving that many had tears in their eyes as a little 7-year-old girl sang to honor her country at an event to remember her biggest brother.

When she sang, it was more than a joyful noise . . . it was a healing balm to my soul.

Note: Unfortunately, her performance was not recorded in its entirety at Reed’s Run.  We do have her performance from Our Journey of Hope night (the annual remembrance of the anniversary) at our school.

A score minus four years ago today

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Always loved those cheeks!

Always loved those cheeks!

Sawyer:

Sixteen years ago, I woke up that morning after a fitful night of sleep to put on my warmest clothes, grab a suitcase, and head out into one of the coldest days I had ever experienced.  We arrived at the hospital a little before 7 AM, and we were getting ready for a potentially long day or days.  Back then the maternity floor only had one birthing suite, and we were there getting settled.   When all of a sudden in came a former doctor who staked his claim, and we were booted to the less fancy room down the hall. The morning nurse apologized over and over . (All I kept thinking was “Of all the nerve!” If it wasn’t such a big day, I probably would have told him off. As far as this Mama Bear goes, it shows his lack of class.)

I was there for a scheduled inducement as I was a full 10 days past my due date.  They hooked me up to all sorts of things, and then we waited. Of course, Reed (also induced) took a long time to arrive; so I planned on making this a couple day thing. One of the things I remember clearly was how incredibly hungry I was, but ice chips and popsicles were all they offered.  (I do remember more than once trying to convince your dad to sneak out and get me some little chocolate donuts. He didn’t, and I asked him whose team he was on anyways.)

Boredom eventually overtook us, and I asked if we could at least walk around that floor of the hospital.  With pull cart in tow, Dad & I made enough laps around the hospital that I earned the amounts needed for the health and fitness challenge at work.  I even tried to convince them later that giving birth should count as work-out points. (I must have been convincing because I won the most creative work-out that year.)

Eventually I started to feel some pain, and man, you would have thought a visiting army was coming into town.  I scoffed.  “We aren’t having a baby yet.  It’s only four in the afternoon.”  A classmate’s mom, who was our nurse that day just smiled and said, “Well, it’s better to be prepared.”

Within in an hour, Dr. O was there and between pushes, he and Dad were watching television.  Strangely, I can remember that first, the weather man brought a cup of water outside and threw it into the air.  It was ice before it hit the ground.  There was also a terrible violent gang act on the news, and all of us had a conversation about how we were so glad we didn’t live there.  The news was finally over, and the guys switched the channel to golf.  I was too busy with other things – like pushing – to protest out loud, but in my mind, I was thinking of all the things to watch – GOLF!

Sometime in there, a call was made to one of your sets of godparents who brought Reed and Grandma Sheran to the hospital for the big arrival.  They were right outside the door the moment you arrived.  6:18 pm – Nannie loved that number because those numbers were the same as her birthday.  And there you were!  It was love at first sight.  Well, at least for most of us, Reed who never liked to be dirty, proclaimed, “Eww (with wrinkled up nose), is this my new baby brother? He needs a bath.”

Eventually, I walked to the regular room which earned me quite a reputation for being one tough momma.  The truth is that had more to do with you.  You were just plain amazing.  Easy delivery . . . easy to raise, and for that we are blessed.

It’s like the card we gave you this morning says, “Every hold my breath moment has been worth it.  You have grown into an AMAZING young man.”  We are so blessed and honored that God chose to give you to us!

By the way, I did get my little chocolate donuts that night, and every time, I have one I think about one of the most wonderful days in my whole entire life.

Happy Sweet 16th, Sawyer!  Even though, I didn’t know what lie ahead for us all those years ago, I do know one thing for sure.  God has mighty and amazing plans for your life!

I love you!

A cross-country love . . . the last Reed’s Run

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amy1I will be the first to admit that social networking has its pitfalls.  I will stipulate that Facebook, Pinterest, and Twitter can be huge time drainers.  However, with eyes open wide to the pitfalls (of which I am prone) I also believe that my life has been enriched by the somewhat instantaneous connections with friends and family flung far and wide.  I love relationships and that feeling of connection.  I know it isn’t face to face conversation, and I agree cyber hugs pale in comparison to real embraces.  Yet, I love that in the past few years I have reconnected with family and friends that I haven’t seen in person in many, many years.

Several of those relationships have evolved over the years to being some of my sweetest friendships.  One of those sweet blessings is the deep friendship and adoration with our cousins in Washington.  Long distance, we cheer each other on through all of life’s ups and downs. Our relationship has gotten so close that we have even started our own language, recently coining the term “Pray-paring” in relation to how we should get ready for anything life.

When we first announced registration for Reed’s Run 2012, these same cousins became the first to register, albeit with a twist.  They were going to run the race remotely.  We were open to the idea, and we happily mailed them their t-shirts.  One of our cousins was so proud of her t-shirt; she immediately wore it to school the next day. (Again thankful for Facebook because that is where I saw the evidence.) They inspired a few more cousins and friends to do the same.  Their willingness to participate (in whatever fashion) made our hearts soar.

The night of the run, my sweet Amy, penned us the following letter to tell of how they had spent the day and how the remote run went.  She included all the pictures here.

Kandy

                It is with joy that I write to you to share about our Reed’s Run here in Washington.

                It was like waiting for Christmas morning.  The countdown began & quickly, day by day, it got closer.  The questions began. “Where should we run?” “When should we leave?” “What do we wear?”  Then the preparation began.  We got our light sabers first.  (We had to have them to bring the boy in Reed, the playfulness into our home.)  We got Gatorade ~ like it would somehow fuel our feet.  I think it was then that I realized I had “pray-pared” a lot more than I had prepared.  My heart was ready – the love overflowing – the joy and excitement contagious, but preparing physically – not so much.  Kayla hurt a tendon earlier in the week at drill practice & Sam came down with strep.  We wanted to do it as a group so we walked most of it & I was glad we did.

                I woke up Saturday morning to a grey sky & wet pavement.  Evidence of rain.  We have not had rain in about 2 months which, in Washington, is unheard of.  That is when I knew it was going to be a great day.  Courtney (Sam’s girlfriend) came early with donuts.  You need carbs to run you know. J I asked the children to help me with our “numbers”.  Because we weren’t in Minnesota, we decided to use the names of Reed, Emilee, Hunter, Jesse, and our flag as our race numbers.

                We drove to Ruston Way. A beautiful and most important flat road next to Puget Sound. J It was 67 F and sunny.  We prayed by Kelly’s truck as a group and started on our way.  I was surprised by the number of people who stopped & asked us what we were walking for.  (So I thank you with all my heart for the shirts).  It was an honor to share about Reed’s Run with them & everyone was touched by Reed’s life & his story.  We finished with tired feet but joy filled hearts.  What a gift it is do something nice for someone else.

Kelly & I took a few pictures & are sending them to you and your family.  We want you to have an idea where we were.  We wanted to bring a part of us to you. 

                I know that this is the last Reed’s Run, but I hope that you realize because you allowed us to be a part of this – we are forever changed.  We will now look for simple ways to bring God into others’ lives by showing others His love.  And every time we pick up our light sabers we will remember Reed. 

                Memories are beautiful part of God’s love & we have a beautiful memory of our special Reed’s Run day.

Love,

Kelly, Amy, Sam, Courtney & Kayla

amy2

Those that know me know I was a puddle of tears after reading this letter.  I still choke up reading it.  Of the multitude of reasons is the fact that our cousins love us and Reed enough to want to be a part (even their own special way) of our day.  But more so, they were an embodiment that Reed’s story (which is ultimately God’s story) has a far and reaching effect.  From what seems so senseless this side of heaven, God is using in ways that we can only imagine.

This time He used our cousins to help us see His bigger picture.

 

Note – the emphasized words in Amy’s letter are mine.  However, I truly believe that is the heart of healing.  Realizing that God has a purpose for us and often that purpose is to serve others may just be the secret to healing broken hearts.

 

sawyer's flagWhen we first envisioned doing something to fund the Reed Stevens Memorial Scholarship, we never saw an event as big as what Reed’s Run became.  The four runs produced many different results: some expected and others pleasant surprises.  The obvious by-products were a successful fundraising venture and a community event enjoyed by many. Among the unexpected were the blossoming of friendships and the renewal of friendships from long ago.

One of those friendships was rekindled in those early days in the hospital when Sawyer was still in the Intensive Care.  It was something akin to the proverbial blessings that those who have walked through tragedy really have eyes and hearts open enough to see.  The connection was with one of Sawyer’s godmothers.

As the days drew closer to the final run, we realized that we were going to have a house filled with loved ones as well as a few hotel rooms with other loved ones.  For those travelling from far away, we decided to send out an agenda of what we would be offering in the way of entertainment.  After working set-up all day Friday, a break would take place to cheer on Sawyer and the Lakers with a September/October birthday party at the fire pit in Reed’s garden afterwards.

To be honest, we didn’t think many would take us up on the offer for the football game.  To our surprise, there were 15 people that comprised the cheering section for number 74.  One among our group was Sawyer’s little god-brother, S, proudly clad in Laker blue and waving homemade flags emblazoned with Sawyer’s name and school “mascot”. S cheered on the team, and more than once he wondered aloud why the team or coaches weren’t listening to his flag as the score did not reflect his impassioned cheering. Sadly, Sawyer didn’t play for three fourths of the game, and for a while I felt like we had asked these loved ones from Georgia, California, western North Dakota, and Florida to come for nothing.  Then in the final few minutes, Sawyer and the other Junior Varsity guys went in.

All of a sudden an amazing tackle happens, and over the loudspeaker we hear, “Tackle made by Sawyer Stevens.” (This, of course, reads better if you do the loudspeaker echoing voice out loud.)  The Sawyer Stevens entourage cheered exuberantly, but none compared to little S.  He jumped up and down, declaring for all who would listen, “Sawyer listened to my flag. I knew it would work!”  I don’t really care what others would call the play of that game.  For one sophomore player, that was definitely it.

For the trip to the birthday bash, Sawyer rode with his god-family the 30 miles back to Marshall.  Even though I wasn’t there, the story told by his godmother about the trip home was priceless.  Huddled together in the back of the car with their heads touching were two brothers (one in high school and one in elementary) deep in conversation and game playing.

For the one who misses his big brother every day, it was a model example of brotherly love and what used to be.  For the rest of us, it was a reminder that even though the circumstances aren’t what we had planned, God’s vision of family is BIGGER than we could ever imagine.

Just the other night at the hometown football game . . . the last Reed’s Run

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lakeview football

The Garth Brooks song, “Unanswered Prayers” has always been a perennial favorite of mine.  It didn’t hit me until the night before the last Reed’s Run that I was living out a line of the song at a Lakeview football game.  Different from the lyrics, it wasn’t a long-lost love with whom I reconnected that evening.  I am sure if anyone paid attention to what happened on the sidelines, there would have been rumors flying in the small towns that night.

It really all unfolded much earlier.  About two years ago, I found my high school best friend on the internet.  We connected very briefly through an email and later on Facebook.  Then one day, I started noticing all the posts of remembrance.  I knew my friend Matt had only one son (and several stepchildren).  I literally shook as my hands did a quick Google search.  When my husband found me crumpled on the floor sobbing a little while later, he knew something was terribly wrong.  My worst fears regarding those messages were confirmed when I found the obituary of one sweet, Big A.

I cried.  I felt crushed in spirit.  “Oh, dear Lord, NO!” I cried out over and over. How could this be?  Why was this cup not passed from not only my son, but my friend’s son as well?  I just didn’t understand.

I wanted our bond to be shared memories of the past – the glory years so to say – but not THIS!  Not a shared bond of grief and loss and of despair and heartbreak.

I did the only thing I could. I reached out electronically and shared about Reed.  In the end, I told of Reed’s Run and asked if we could remember Alex at our final run.  I was expecting an affirmative response because I know that lingering fear (of no one remembering their child) all grieving parents share.  What I didn’t expect was the news that my high school best buddy and his wife were going to come and run the last run.

Back to that football game. When I received the text message that they had arrived, I bolted out of my seat to greet them.  I ran and literally jumped into Matthew’s arms. What I haven’t shared previously is we hadn’t seen each other in twenty-three years.  It was a wonderful (and long over-due) embrace.

My heart leapt with joy at finally being in arms reach of him, and my heart soared to finally meet his beautiful bride.  We watched the game and cheered on one number 74.  Since 74’s fan section was huge, we had three cars in convoy on the way home.  I rode with Matt & Kimberly, and we shared the stories of our boys.

Sadly, neither of us ever had the opportunity to meet the other’s child.  Back at home, we sat in the rental car, talked and cried, and cried and talked.  With each story they told of one amazing young man, I began to feel like I was being handed the equivalent of a newborn baby swaddled in love and care of sweet memories.

In high school our heartstrings were tied as two kids who loved to laugh and who loved a good adventure, especially in historic Pensacola.  But now on a crisp Minnesota fall night, we were inexplicably bound by the loss that no parents should ever have to feel.

However it wasn’t unanswered prayers like that old song, it was the unshakeable faith of two dear friends that our children’s deaths were not in vain.  It was the prayers that we prayed during their lives that sustained us in their deaths.  It was the same faith that compels both families to give back in the way that would be most honoring to each boy.

But the biggest bond each family shared was the sustaining power of prayer, amazing love, and extravagant grace that over the years and across the miles both of us were held right in the palm of God’s hand.  It is the confidence of knowing that neither family said good-bye, because someday I am going to get to meet that sweet boy and Matthew’s going to meet mine.

Sliding into home . . . the last Reed’s Run

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For those that personally know me, I hate good-byes. Given the story of my life, that isn’t all that surprising.  Reed’s Run has come to an end.  It was a wonderful four years, and the success of those four runs continues to inspire myself (and hopefully others).  There is much more to the story than the countdown blogs that occurred before the run, and I feel now is the appropriate time to share them.  But somehow, I just can’t just the word good-bye when describing a labor of love for the last five years.

It all started two days before the actual run.  My parents, sister, brother-in-law, and nephew had arrived, and we were all in final countdown mode.  I received a somewhat intriguing call from one of my “besties”.  Her call was that she was leaving work now, and she needed me to meet her at the street because she had something really important for me.  I knew that she was struggling with some health issues; so, I was nonplussed at the request for the espionage style hand-off.  In my mind, I thought she had a donation from her employer whom we had asked for a sponsorship for the run.

When we met for the transfer next to the mailbox, I knew immediately it wasn’t a donation.  She doesn’t have much of a poker face.  Her grin from ear to ear said it was something much more significant.  She told me that she had a story to tell before she gave me the surprise.

It started with a reminder that a gal with whom she works was having a garage sale today.  Okay, no big deal.  Then it transpired into details that another gal (also in on the sale) brought a big tub of toys for the sale.  Earlier they decided that the best approach for all those toys would be to dump them en masse on a big table and to offer a certain price for each item.  As the garage sale gals were sorting and arranging, one item jumped out at them.  The co-worker stood speechless.  She proceeded to grab the item, jump in her car, and head to work.

She pulled aside my bestie and asked, “Could it really be?”  To which my friend said, “It has to be because no one else in this town has this name and after all, that’s Kandy’s handwriting.”  Standing barefoot in the driveway, my hands received a gift straight from heaven.   With tears streaming down my face, I lovingly held Reed’s t-ball mitt, emblazoned with “R. Stevens” in my penmanship on the side.

At that point I knew that Reed’s Run was going to be a huge success because we were given a love token straight from Reed that day.  It was the boost we needed to finish out all of those last minute details.

It wasn’t Reed, but it was a piece of his story.  The memories we had with that glove, which was faithfully used for a few years until he outgrew it, came flooding back .  Eventually, we gave it to friends who must have given it to someone else until it landed in that garage sale.

The mitt’s history didn’t matter at that moment because the best part of the story was on a sunny September day, it slid right on home.

Reed's t-ball glove on his bed.

Reed’s t-ball glove on his bed.

How can it be five years? A letter to Reed

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Reed70To my sweet boy –

Reed, I woke up yesterday strangled by my emotions. Before I even lifted my head, I could feel that old familiar ache.  My heart literally hurt.  I longed to just hear your voice, to experience your laughter, to see the world through your beautiful blue eyes.  All the things I get to do with Sawyer, Erin, and Clo and I love each shared memory. Yet, I feel like the whole world can see the hole in my heart whenever I wish I had those moments with you.

Then come other times, when I really am truly happy. I almost surprise myself, because it’s at those times I feel guilty because I wonder if I am ever supposed to be happy again.  Conflicting emotions that don’t mix with what I know to be true.  You would never want us to be forever sad this side of heaven, but more importantly neither would God. Simply, He would want to remind us that this is not our forever home.  It is a lesson that we couldn’t forget if we wanted to, simply because even though we can’t deliver mail there we know your permanent address.

Five years ago, I never thought I would be sitting where I am now.  I want to be getting ready for your second prom, planning your graduation party and trip, and buying all the great things that you would need for college.  It just wasn’t meant to be a part of your story.

Just as grief is now a part of mine.  Heart crushing, sneak up on you when you least expect it, grief.  A pain so deep you never knew your heart had so many crevices and could hurt so badly.

But when things get so painful, I remember a sweet, red-headed boy whose whole life was defined by hope.  Not just a temporary hope. Oh no! A hope rooted in a love greater than any love that I have ever given. Inspirational was a boy who believed that love was greater than hate.  A boy who believed that turning the other cheek wasn’t just a saying. A boy who believed that those who hurt others were hurting themselves taught me a lot in just twelve short years. A deep faith, overflowing with love defined your life.

Sometimes, I think that you knew you were only going to be here for a brief stay.  You did nothing half-way.  You didn’t just read books, you devoured them.  You didn’t just learn something, you consumed it. And, you didn’t just love, you loved with abandon.

It is that hope, love, and faith that has helped us to remember, to cope (and sometimes heal), and to keep alive your legacy.  So that someday, we will all get to meet the ones whose lives your brief life touched.  Standing in the glorious, shining light of heaven, I can only imagine then that it will all make sense.

Waiting to hug you and hold you again, but always carrying you in my heart – Momma