I recently reconnected with some friends I see intermittently; those with whom months can go by between visits but it’s always a joy to catch up when the opportunity arises.  Interestingly, I had one of them ask, “Did you stop coloring your hair?”  I chuckled.  I chuckled because I’ve learned this is code for, Has

We had the privilege of spending last week in upstate New York at the Krabbe Family Symposium sponsored by the Hunter’s Hope Foundation.  It is quite a blessing to be able to share life for several days with people who have walked a similar journey, people who know the searing pain of watching their son

Before leaving our former home, I was sitting at our kitchen table and happened to look out at Judson’s tree in the adjacent park and noticed someone standing nearby it, leash in hand, with a cute little dog beside him.  The park was otherwise vacant.  I would often see people near Jud’s sapling, but this

I’m in a hospital waiting room. Waiting. I’m waiting for the arrival of a baby.  Waiting for new life to enter this world.  Waiting for a miracle. I marvel at the fact that in just hours a new little person—a person with her own unmatched personality, her own distinct characteristics, her own precious features—will enter

I was sitting in a local coffee shop doing some work while two ladies in the adjacent table were carrying on a conversation about a mutual friend.  I couldn’t help but overhear their dialogue when one woman harshly stated, “She’s an only child so clearly she’s been spoiled.” Her words hung in my head, fully

June 24, 2011 Dear Judson, It’s your half-birthday.  It’s hard to believe you’ve been a part of our lives for six and a half years now and yet most of that time we’ve been worlds apart.  I often feel like I don’t even know you anymore, and the thought tears me up inside.  Yet, despite

One Solitary Tear (Written for my friend) As you lay on your back Expressing your depths, Releasing your pains, I watch as one tear, one solitary tear, hangs in the outside corner of your eye. You blink And it begins to fall. It falls slowly. Making the lonely journey over your cheekbone, Moving toward the

Photo courtesy of Jenny McMasters Photography This is just a hard time of year.  No matter how you slice it, I feel the aches and pains that began four years ago when we realized Judson was slipping through our fingers.  Each year I wonder whether the pain will dissipate, whether I will again feel the