Tag Archives: heaven

Roses from Heaven

In the days while we were waiting for the phone call that could change EVERYTHING for our family – again, I was preparing for an amazing speaking opportunity. My local newspaper hosts an annual event, Exceptional Women of Southwest Minnesota, and I was asked to be the speaker for the evening. After working with the organizers, I chose taking care of you as the theme of my address. I shared I was downright giddy at being asked because I was very familiar with last year’s speaker. I follow her work, and it felt like big shoes to follow. To say the least, it was a huge honor for me. I will confess I wasn’t quite ready for the marketing campaign for the event as every other day the paper had my picture and just about every business I went into had a poster with me staring back at myself.

Some days I just felt unworthy of all that attention because the beautiful polished photograph of me looked back at the no make-up, hair pulled into a ponytail, clad in workout clothes version of me. Many friends and neighbors gave me such positive encouragement, even despite my efforts to deflect all the attention. I was consistently asked one question before, during, and after the event, “Do you get nervous when speaking?”.

The honest and simple answer is I don’t, but for this event, I poured my heart into my thoughts and preparations because of the significance of the evening. Our small town paper, the Marshall Independent, not only hosts this event, but they also share with their subscribers and readers excerpts of the nomination letters as well as thoughts from the nominees themselves. I was truly humbled to read what these amazing, incredible, and well . . . EXCEPTIONAL women were doing in our community. Their stories made me smile, brought me to tears, and generally inspired me to learn of all the ways they were giving back. Every nominee’s story touched my heart profoundly. For these women, I prayed in the days leading up to the event. I prayed God would give me the right blend of wisdom and stories to encourage them to invest in themselves because without them there would be huge holes left in our communities.

As usual with every time I go off (or stay home) and speak, following the event there was a big line of those who want to hug me. I savor every word of their story, relish in every smidgeon of encouragement, and covet every prayer. Telling our family’s story in an honest, raw, and, at times, humorous way, is draining, but if sharing helps one person do anything better, I will do it every chance I get.

After all the hugging and story swapping, I went home to take a day or two to reflect on all that goodness and let’s be honest, worry that the phone call I was waiting on might not be the one I wanted to hear. When the call finally came in, I hit my knees in praise and adoration, before I cried for all those who wouldn’t receive good news. Then I got up to tackle some cleaning in preparation for our upcoming graduation party. Only the girls and I were home when the doorbell rang.

As soon as I opened the door, I had a huge smile on my face (which for the record was not made-up and my hair in a messy bun). On the front step was one of the nominees, holding a vase with some roses. I quickly invited her in and was completely blown away with the message she came to share.

This sweet new friend is a business owner and when she woke up to start her day at her family owned operation, she noticed something amiss in the parking lot. She rises really early to make sure that all her customers’ needs are met. When she ducked out in the darkness to check on the odd sight, he husband accompanied her for safety. They discovered a broken vase of roses that had been left on the pavement. Quickly cleaning up the glass and retrieving the roses, they returned to the busyness of their morning routine. Finding a replacement vase, she placed the flowers by her kitchen sink and got busy doing the dishes. As she finished that chore and went on to tackle others, her eyes kept being drawn to various words of inspiration. Two in particular kept drawing her in. Those words were “peace” and “family”. Eventually, she felt that God was bringing her close to those words. After a few hours of this repeated drawing near, she knew that God’s message was persistent. She announced to her husband, “those flowers aren’t for me, but I know who they are for”.

I can only imagine his perplexed look as she shared that she thought they were from a red-headed boy. Now here she stood on my doorstep, long-distance roses in hand. Tears quickly pooled in my eyes as she lovingly showed me how the one rose had to have fallen from quite a height in order to have the small indentation that it had on its side.

She couldn’t stay long, but her thoughtfulness and caring lingered for days. I did need that message more than she could have ever known. The sweet messenger was simply God’s instrument of love that day, and for that I love her. I don’t really know how the flowers ended up in the parking lot, but for me they will always be the roses from heaven.

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.

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.

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.

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

14 day: Angels among us

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One of the things I miss most about Reed is the adventure known as going to zoos or aquariums. A favorite picture of him was snapped after the touch tank experience with stingrays. Sawyer and Erin participated in the touch tank, but not Reed. For him, it was a full on immersion experience. In the picture, the younger two barely have a wet spot on their clothes. Reed’s shirt looks as if he bodysurfed with stingrays rather than used the tips of his fingers to touch their skin. Most moms would have been upset because we didn’t have a change of clothes. Not this mom! I loved his sense of learning and interacting!

Zoos were always another experience altogether. If there were small animals, he would lay on his belly to get eye-to-eye with them and to “speak” their language. His methodologies always got more than one eyebrow raise, but when you are raising a pint-sized Dr. Doolittle, you learn to ignore the naysayers.

In all of Reed’s years, only one other time did I witness one of his siblings react to animals the same way. On a girls’ trip to Chicago, I took Erin (age four at the time) to the Shedd Aquarium. When we got to the area with the stingray floor – literally a glass floor with stingrays below – I turned around, scanned the area, and discovered Erin was not standing next to me. A quick pan of the room revealed her sprawled out with her tiny face mushed up to the glass, telling me the stingray was the most beautiful of all the sea creatures. Again, more raised eyebrows! I did the only thing a mom of future scientists can do, I acted as a bodyguard making sure no one interrupted her exploration or stomped on her.

Even though we dressed our boys for years to look like Chris and Martin Kratt, my other kids never really showed any evidence of sharing the animal fanatic gene. Oh, we have had various pets, and by various I mean crickets, ladybugs, butterflies, moths, frogs, toads, newts, rabbits, pigeons, fish, cats, and dogs. Even with that eclectic menagerie, no one else has ever run out with sandwiches in their hands on the North Shore to lure in the shorebirds. This adventure was highly successful if you really, REALLY like shorebirds dive bombing you at six years old.

I had pretty well resigned myself to the fact that I would never get to witness the joy of animal interaction (Reed-style) until I get to heaven. Like I said, just one of the many things I miss. But sometimes, I believe the veil is lifted, and a little bit of heaven touches the earth.

While cooking supper a few nights ago, I heard my sweetie summon me to come quickly. I had a few pots on the fire (literally); so, it took me a bit to find where he was located. Outside the closed bathroom door, I inquired, “Are you in there?” wondering what in the mayonnaise was I getting myself into. An urgent “yes” and “you’ve got to see this” had me even more baffled.

My eyes filled with tears when I walked onto the marble floor. There on the floor sat Sally Gal with the most relaxed hamster I had ever seen. The best way to describe the scene is he was splayed out on his belly, looking like a tiny “bearskin” rug. My husband then urged our littlest one to show me what happens if she put him down. She complied by moving Lord Business (our tiny furry friend’s name) to the floor. He swiftly and promptly scurried up her seated leg and went onto her outstretched hand where he repeated his relaxed stance.

There we were, all three (well four if you count the hamster) cooped up in that bathroom. I know Reed’s spirit was there. His animal whisperer tendencies breathe through every song she sings to her little buddy. His gentle and humble spirit was there when in their first few days of knowing each other she showed her new pet that despite their size difference, she would never harm him. I could almost picture Reed, glasses askew, red hair a mess with his nose right down to her palm to get the best view in the room.

It is in these moments that I vividly remember this is exactly why God sent his son. Those sacred places where we get a glimpse of our loved ones through a whispered memory. Because of God’s son, one day I will see my son again. When I look at it that way, heaven doesn’t seem so far away.

And every day Reed feels closer when I look in the eyes of one special little girl.

Really being camera shy!

23 days: Let heaven and earth rejoice

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I apologize that you will get two countdown blogs today. My travels took me away from home and brought me back safe and secure, although tired and exhausted. Yesterday, I had the opportunity to travel with a dear friend to hear her daughter’s collegiate Christmas concert. My sneaky friend billed it as girlfriend’s day with shopping, music, and fun. What she failed to mention was she would be belatedly treating me for my birthday.

We had a delightful time, but it was the concert itself that stirred my heart. The sweet college freshman happens to be the most current recipient of the Reed Stevens Memorial Scholarship; so, of course, I had a vested interest in more than one way to be present. While I thought that I was going to admiringly listen, for a second time I was completely surprised. This was not simply a concert. Truly, it was an experience!

A conversation with another friend reminded me this week so few people actually understand the crescendo of anticipation the season of advent has for believers. The event we had the blessing to attend yesterday would epitomize that effect. My soul was stirred with joyful hope with every note. There were instrumental arrangements, small choirs, large concert choirs, stringed instrument bands, piping organ accompaniment, and hand bells. We, the audience, were asked to sing in worship at many varied points throughout the worship service. Yes! Worship, not a concert at all! We worshipped as we actively participated, both singing and listening, reciting and praying together, a communion of souls in peaceful harmony while remembering our Savior’s arrival.

Even my friend was taken aback. We were of one accord, envisioning the same thing. Well, this was the big leagues, and we were blown away by the talent and the professional production our senses delighted in. After the opening of various concert band pieces, the whole choir walked in and surrounded the chapel. They sang a few liturgical lines in Latin, and then the whole congregation was asked to join in another song.

My friend whispered in my ear, “I had no idea! No idea this was going to be this amazing!” With tears in my eyes, I replied, “I know. I keep closing my eyes and thinking this is what it will sound like in heaven!” So while we rejoiced with other earthly souls, my thoughts were on the choirs that my sweet children hear every day in heaven.

This advent, remember to rejoice in the little ways . . . because they truly matter!

Note: I wanted to see if there were any video clips that I could link to this blog. What I found instead was information regarding livestreaming of the concert. The final performance will be this upcoming Sunday, December 7. If you follow the link provided below, you find the information needed to watch from the comfort of your home. You will be blessed if you do choose to participate online and you will get to see “our” Rachel and other talented students from “out here”. The concert begins at 4 pm CST each day, but the instrumental preludes started about 45 minutes earlier. Be blessed and rejoice! https://blc.tixato.com/buy/christmas-at-bethany

A letter to heaven

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Dear Reed –

Today is the day I dread all year long. It seems as if the whole month of February is always a blur as I insulate myself from the pain of this day. But I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t tell you that some things are a little different this year.

Sometimes, I daydream that you aren’t really in heaven, but gone away to college instead. That is a problem though when you are as vivid a daydreamer as I am, because more than once I went to call you on the phone to ask how classes are going. There are few things in life that I will never regret passing on to you kids and a healthy imagination is one of them.

Remember the days of getting pixie-led in the forest and just how far those little buggers got us off the path. Can you still hear their siren-like call in heaven too? How about all the dragons that you kept away from our house with your countless battles? Is there a place for them there too? Do you and Nanny still have the dinosaur that lived at our house but only came after he decided that it was too hot in Pensacola? We don’t hear much out of him anymore; so, he must live with you. It was a good thing because I wasn’t sure “roof cave-in by dinosaur” was covered by our homeowners insurance.

All those boyhood things sandwiched into a life much too short.

When you left us, you were so much older in spirit if not in chronological years. And I think that is one of the things I miss the most, all the grown up experiences we didn’t and don’t get to share together.

I cannot believe that you went home to Jesus six years ago today. In some moments it seems like the blink of an eye, and then at other times as we deal with Sawyer’s and Erin’s injuries, it feels like an eternity ago.

Daddy is doing better – only not today. Today, he trudged along at work in a place where if people remember the day not many verbalized it. How sad and awful that has to be when I am sure he feels as if his heart is on display for all to see. Somehow people need to know that it is okay to talk about you (and J, H, and E) even if it makes us cry, it tells us they remember.

The Boy Wonder – you would be so proud of him! He is really an incredible young man. Last night as we were saying our goodnights, I broke down and cried. I asked him to name the number one thing he missed about you. His heartfelt reply was that he couldn’t answer that because he missed everything about you. The late night conversations, the giggles from the basement, the wrestling hijinks, and saving the day are hard to do when one of the dynamic duo is missing. He shares your love of the underdog, and you would have loved to see him coach his Special Olympics players to gold medals. Somehow it would be easy to picture the two of you coaching that team together. Just know that even though you were very different boys, you are carried everywhere in his heart.

And Sister! She isn’t quite as tall as Sawyer yet, but she definitely towers over me. You would be so proud of her. She carries your tenacity to get a job done. She set a goal to improve her basketball skills, and she spent most of her summer to make 20,000 made shots. She’s come a long way from the “Laura, Mary, Carrie” wind-up days of when you boys first taught her how to shoot baskets in the front yard before kindergarten. With your love of sports, I can only imagine you would be cheering the loudest in the stands when she makes an amazing rebound or banks an unimaginable three-pointer. Her face of pure joy rivals the time that you forced and recovered the fumble in Ivanhoe. She has your smile, and every time we see it in a game, I think of you!

Sally is the one missing you the most these days. She has had some really rough days. I wish that we could grant her desire to visit you all in heaven just one time. She says that if she could do so; she would be able to live the rest of her days contented. If David is a man after God’s own heart, she is a girl after yours. Every fiber of her being is just like you, even the words she uses. Looking in her hazel eyes is like a mirror to times long ago. She is another nine year old bundle of energy, who has a large vocabulary and who can’t learn about the world fast enough. Since it is a miracle we even have her, I think God made her as close to you as possible to bring us comfort. And she does. Now if only we could keep her little forever.

Your boy, Huck, is really starting to slow down. His beautiful red coat is starting to show more and more gray. I’m always sad that I don’t have any redheads in the house anymore, and then sweet Huck comes loping into my room. I have the redheaded boy’s red-haired dog still, and that does count for something. He still has some mischief in that big ol’ body because he can still sneak a sandwich or stick of butter off the counter. Just as you loved him every day of your life together, I am carrying love’s torch for our boy even if the hourglass is working against me. I am going to hold on to him as long as I possibly can before he comes to be with you again.

A few more loved ones have come to join you in the last year. Hug them all for me! Maybe one of those sneaky around the back hugs would be the perfect gift. Just know that I love you more than you can possibly imagine, and I know that you don’t want us to be sad forever. Some days, I wish my heart understood what my brain knows.

In the meantime, I want you to know that our friends have wrapped their arms of love around us in both BIG and small ways. They always have, but for some reason I see it more this year. I thank God that he whispered into their hearts that we needed them, even if they didn’t know how much. Just sharing the moments of this journey has been an immeasurable treasure.

Even through my tears, there is one more thing that I will never regret. Teaching all of you about Jesus! It is because of his love that my love for you has meaning. It is because of his sacrifice that I KNOW – not I hope or I wish – but I KNOW that I will see you again.

Just like I believe God whispered to my friends, today I felt a strong reminder to remember that even though the hole in my heart feels like that fateful Friday, Sunday’s coming. With a message that powerful, I can only believe that God blew it straight into my heart.

You will always be my sunshine!

Loving you every single day forever . . . until Sunday comes!

Momma

Adding purple to my color wheel

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Yesterday I alluded to a time where I had a really bad start to a project. One summer while travelling back to my childhood home, I asked one of my two grandmothers to teach me to crochet. I had just started knitting, and everyone remarked that crocheting was so much easier, implying that I should have started there. Both of my grandmothers are talented when it comes to cooking, sewing, crocheting, and quilting. Nanny dabbled in just about every craft imaginable and was an amazing florist, and Mama was a professional seamstress who now crochets to keep her hands busy. The amazing thing is that both share the same birthday (albeit 5 years apart) – today.

One is celebrating her first birthday surrounded by loved ones in heaven, and the other celebrates 89 young years. This baby afghan started six years ago almost never came to fruition. Following the passing of Nanny in December, I just couldn’t let it lie unfinished.

When I started the project, I was visiting at Mama’s house, and asked her to teach me to crochet. A quick trip to the Mecca of the South provided tutor and pupil with the needed supplies. I don’t know what in the world possessed me to buy purple yarn – because it was and still is my least favorite color. (Sorry to my Minnesota neighbors, Vikings colors and all.)

While my grandmothers are equally special in my heart, they couldn’t be any more different. One is just a plain old purple girl, and the other is definitely a mauve maven. As different as they are, they share a love of the color purple. Maybe their shared love is what guided that yarn purchase, but other than to make a Vikings scarf, I have never had much interest in purple yarn since.

When we sat down to start our lesson, I tried as hard as I could but didn’t find it easy or enjoyable. This isn’t a condemnation of the teacher, because she was as patient as Job. No matter what I did, my motor muscle memory was still in training for two needles – not one hook. I completed maybe 2 or 3 inches of the afghan before it was time to load up the minivan with suitcases, coolers, and oh yes, kiddos to head on down to Florida.

At Nanny’s house, she critiqued the work and gushed about the color. She wanted to see how many stitches Mama suggested to create the ripple pattern. She, too, offered encouragement, but even her tutelage really wasn’t getting me anywhere. At this point, five inches total were done.

One not to give in too quickly, I took the whole works on a 4-H trip, working while we traversed by Amtrak from Minnesota to New York. After that trip, the whole kit and caboodle (all seven inches) went in the recesses of the craft buckets, not to be seen again until this last December.

Like a beacon from a lighthouse providing hope and guidance to wayward sailors, the afghan became a vestige of hope for a brokenhearted granddaughter, one who would never this side of heaven be able to work collectively with both of them again. After tackling the Granny squares mentioned yesterday, I was equipped with more confidence and ready to complete the long forgotten baby blanket.

The resurgence of new found interest was not without problems. Thankfully, I could phone a friend (Mama) and get a few more tidbits of instruction. Also, when you start a project six years earlier, most likely dye lots have changed on the yarn. So rather than one seamless project it became a tribute to all things purple in memory of Nanny and in honor of Mama.

One evening as I was close to finishing the afghan, my sweet little Clo climbed up in my lap and asked the most beautiful question.

“Momma, who is going to get this blanket?”

My response was one of uncertainty. Her cherubic face and inquiry brought me to tears.

“Since I love purple, I have been thinking. Someday, I am going to have a little girl of my own. Could we save this afghan for her?”

The snuggled up view.

With tears streaming down my face, I agreed to that request, knowing in my heart when I meet this future granddaughter I am going to tell her all about her great-great- grandmothers and how amazingly colorful they both were, in the life of girl who needed just a little more purple.

Happy 84^th Birthday in Heaven, Nanny! Happy 89^th Birthday in Alabama, Mama!

17 Days to Go: The Reason Why

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Dear Reed:

It just occurred to me that you would be 17 years old this year, and today is the 17day countdown to the final big day of your run. Isn’t it funny how God works on his timing of ideas? You gave us a lifetime of memories, and we have chosen several small memories to remember each year at the run.

Our whole focus has been to remember you and what a shining light you were in this world. As time has gone on, our hearts don’t hurt as bad, but that doesn’t mean we miss you less. I think the reason why is that with each passing day our heart focus for Reed’s Run has been more and more about the God you loved. And as much as we love you, we realize that this is small beans in comparison to how much God LOVED you and all of us. That LOVE has helped our hearts to begin to heal.

I think we’ve been asked about a hundred times, why this is the last Reed’s Run. The reasons are twofold, but we wanted you to know that by not doing the run doesn’t mean we love you or think about you any less. You would be very proud of the people your friends have grown up to be. They have blossomed and continued to be people that you would still call friends. But as graduation approaches, Dad and I wanted them to go out and impact this world (carrying a little piece of you) with each of them. I know that many of them (as they are half of our committee) would come back if we continued on, but that is not what I want them to do. So even though we said it in a quiet voice, we meant it when we said, “The run will only last four years. The four years Reed would have been in high school.”

The second and main reason is one that I know you will understand. I know because you were always a team player and an incredible big brother. Next year, both Sawyer and Erin will be in high school, and if their busyness now is any indication, we are going to be lucky to see them. I don’t want to miss one minute of what they are doing because I am tied to Reed’s Run work. I know that you would be right there cheering them on if you could be; so, I will cheer loud enough for the both of us.

I have never lied to you, even in some of life’s big questions like why did you have to have keratoconus. I just told you that we had to believe that God has a plan. Even though, I am fully confident that we are doing the right thing with letting the season of Reed’s Run come to an end, I am going to miss many things about the day. I am probably not going to miss 18 hour days to accomplish all the little details, but I am going to miss the gathering of friends and family. The hugs, the remembrance, and the honoring of those we admire are big parts of the day for me.

We will still be doing small things here and there to raise dollars for your fund, yet we aren’t sure what that is going to look like. But whatever we decide to do, it will always involve something that you loved. So while I am preparing to say good-bye to your run, I am looking forward to more time with the rest of Team Stevens. And always, ALWAYS, I am looking forward to the day that I get to see you, our babies (my own little welcoming committee) and Jesus. Where all of y’all can fill me in on what ripples in God’s pond your story had on the lives of others. Then, I will I have all eternity to listen.

I love you always, Reed!

Mom

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Tag Archives: heaven

Roses from Heaven

1 day: the Christmas card dilemma

14 day: Angels among us

23 days: Let heaven and earth rejoice

A letter to heaven

Adding purple to my color wheel

17 Days to Go: The Reason Why