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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

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