Author: Judson's Legacy

This song, “Hard to Get,” by Rich Mullins, is one I had heard many times before Jud got ill and died, but since Sarah recently reminded me of it, I have listened with new ears…ears that relate to the lyrics with a deep, gut-wrenching solidarity.

This is a gritty song of raw, vulnerable, genuine, honest, heartfelt reflection.  It expresses the hurt and challenge of life, along with the hope and surrender.

I find it ironic this song was written and sung by a man who is now with Jesus; I imagine, for Rich, that the One who lives in eternity is no longer “hard to get.”

Yet, for me, who still lives in time, I find He is still very much hard to get!

Jesus, I know You bore my sorrows, I know you feel my pain, and I know it would not hurt any less even if it could be explained.  But I can’t see what’s ahead and I’m broken by what’s behind…I trust You’ve led me here, and I know You’ve been with me all along, but Your ways are just plain hard to get!

Last night, Drake and I attended our first wedding since Jud died.

For the most part, I was able to focus on the newly married couple and rejoice in all the rejoicing.

What I did not anticipate was the monsoon of grief that overtook my body as the groom’s mom stepped onto the hardwood floor to enjoy a solo dance with her son.  It was as though I was transported into a galaxy of intense pain while the numerous people around me were smiling, laughing, clapping, and delighting in the festivities.  My face contorted in an effort to hold back my sobs, but tears gushed out of my eyes as I tried to hide my sorrowful countenance behind Drake’s shoulder.

The world around me began to flow in slow motion while my mind conjured up pictures of Judson in young adulthood, flinging me across the dance floor on his wedding day…but I could not see his face.  I saw a tall, lanky body topped with soft blonde hair, but I could not see Jud’s face.  Oh, how I wanted to see his face, his smile, his eyes.

I will never know what Judson might have looked like in adulthood.  I will not have the privilege of watching him fall in love and get married.  I will never have a mother/son dance with my boy.

But, I will cherish every memory I do have!

Dear family and friends,

Today not only marks 7 months since Judson was set free from his suffering and ran into the arms of his loving Savior, but it also marks exactly one year since Judson’s first visit to the doctor. My concerns had begun to heighten after observing his increased stumbling and wobbly balance.

Dr. K, whom I still love and think is fabulous, assured me that it was probably just a virus that had affected Jud’s balance and things could be expected to clear up in a couple days. If not, I was directed to bring Jud in again. Dr. K also indicated that there are more serious things that can cause such symptoms, but since they are unlikely scenarios, he wanted to keep me from worrying about them at that juncture.

I was surprised that a virus could cause these types of symptoms, but I left his office with some relief. Unfortunately, but rightfully so, I quickly became concerned again as I saw things worsen over the weekend. The following Wednesday, June 13th, is when our lives began to be ripped apart.

It was exactly 5 months from the first doctor appointment to the day of Judson’s death. Looking back, it is hard to believe that his body deteriorated so rapidly, and yet those five months were the longest months of our lives. Judson suffered so severely-we are thankful that he is now whole!

However, we remain in deep pain, sorrow, and sadness.

We continue to profoundly grieve the loss of our Jud Bud. It remains a constant in our minds and hearts, affecting everything we do, say, and experience. We imagine that somewhere down the line we will grow in our ability to live with our loss, but for now and quite some time to come, I expect it will remain thick and heavy.

In our mourning, it has been important for us to find ways to honor Judson and find healing in our grief.

The City of Costa Mesa planted Jud’s sycamore tree and installed his bench at “Judson’s Park” this week. We are planning to have a small dedication ceremony for family and close friends that will include a ½ birthday memoriam-Jud would have been 3 ½ on the 24th of this month.

We are also thrilled to be just weeks away from launching Judson’s website. We will certainly keep everyone posted when this occurs!

Another recent transpiring includes plans to attend the Hunter’s Hope Symposium in July. It is a conference designed for the small community of families who have been affected by Krabbe disease. Jessie and I will be attending (unfortunately, Drake cannot go), along with Sarah and my parents. We look forward to connecting with other families who have walked a similar path.

Speaking of my parents, we are fortunate to have them staying on Balboa Island again for the month of June. It is a treat to have them close!

Lastly, we are ending the month of June with a trip to Standing Stone Ranch. Some friends of ours have a ministry to Christian leaders at their ranch in Colorado; they invited us to join them for a week. We are looking forward to this time of respite. Furthermore, on our drive through Arizona, we will have the opportunity to visit some of our new friends who have been significantly supporting us on this journey.

As we enter the anniversaries of our most difficult memories, we are grateful to all who have unceasingly walked this road with us. Your prayers on behalf of our family, especially now, are coveted more than you can imagine!!!

We want to run with endurance the path that is set before us. (Hebrews 12:1-2)

Much love and gratitude,
Christina (on behalf of Drake too)

I posted a blog about “Car Crying” exactly one year ago.

It seems fitting, seeing as most of my car rides alone have been filled with tears since then.

I sure cried my share in the car today!

Today marks exactly one year since my concerns for Judson began.

For about two weeks, I had noticed Jud was seemingly off balance and stumbling a little bit, but I hadn’t thought much of it to that point; I am not a highly anxious mom and I simply chalked his clumsiness up to a growth spurt.

However, a year ago today, on Wednesday, June 6^th, I remember sitting at the park with a new friend (who had actually lost her son John in October of 2005), and we were discussing one of her daughters who had broken her collar bone a couple weeks prior.  My friend mentioned that she thought her daughter seemed to be accident prone.

I started to tell her how Jud might have the same propensity toward clumsiness because he had recently been falling quite a bit.  As I was sharing these thoughts, Jud was racing over to me from the slide on the playground and suddenly fell down.  There didn’t appear to be any obstacles to trip him up or any other explanation for his fall.

It was as though a flashing red light went off in my head and I began to wonder whether this behavior was normal for a child his age.  Those concerns kept rolling around in my mind throughout the afternoon until I finally decided, out of precaution, to simply run things by his pediatrician; I called and made an appointment for Jud to visit the doctor the next day.

I may have suddenly become concerned, but I was still oblivious to the severity that was upon us-the nightmare that was just around the corner…

I wish I could go back and savor more deeply the season of life preceding the suffering, affliction, and death that would change me forever.  It was as though my world was about to be ripped apart, but I didn’t know to relish what I had before it disappeared.

Tomorrow has no guarantees.

Even in my pain, I want to be grateful for the joys I have been given and drink deeply the sweet moments of life.

I was surprised to look out my window this afternoon and discover that some Costa Mesa Public Service employees were at our park planting Judson’s tree (the memorial plaque is expected to be installed later this week).

I raced outside to observe the process and discovered a beautiful, but spindly little Sycamore tree; it could not even bear its own weight.  So I watched as the crew pounded tall, sturdy stakes into the nearby ground to stabilize and support the tree.

 

After the workers left, I laid by the tree, staring in wonder and amazement at this sapling of life that would now be growing in honor of Jud.  But as I marveled, I also recognized how vulnerable, weak, and fragile this little sycamore is.  Were it not for the hardy posts, it would surely die.

I sat up at the epiphany that Drake and I are that tree-we have been and are so vulnerable, weak, and fragile, that surely we would not be surviving without the support of the many people who have and continue to uphold us.  Numerous, solid, weight-bearing stakes have wrapped their arms around us to help us live.  We thank God for these “stabilizers”!!!

 

Judson’s memorial bench was “unveiled” this morning, and though there was still work to be done, Jessie and I had the pleasure of being the first to sit on it.

While Jessie then proceeded to play on the adjacent playground equipment, I laid on the bench, staring up at the bright blue sky… 

“How did I get here?” I asked myself.  “How did I end up on a bench in memory of my boy?”

As we enter this season of the onset of Judson’s Krabbe symptoms, as difficult as it will be, I intend to go back and read my journals, letters, and blogs from the corresponding day last year.  I have become aware that healing from this type of tragic loss necessitates moving into the pain, not away from it.  Thus, for the next 5 months I will be delving into my most heinous and heart-wrenching experiences.  But, I will also be keeping my eyes open to see the grace and character of my Father.

To determine when my journals actually began to reflect my concerns about Jud, I went back this evening and read some entries from the months leading up to June.  I found this entry, from March 29, 2007, to be particularly poignant.

Dear Lord,

I am desperately afraid of pain.  I want to avoid it at all costs and circumvent it when it comes.  You have not guaranteed a life free from pain for Your children.  In fact, quite the opposite-a life spent honoring You may even elicit more pain.

Life hurts a lot…and I haven’t even experienced significant loss or evil in my life.  I fear I might break wide open under such circumstances-that I wouldn’t be able to ride such a wave of heartache.

Life is hard.

Father, please be gracious with me and not give me more than I can bear.

I love you Lord!

I felt as though my heart fractured into a million pieces as I read these words today.  I am still trying to sort out all my feelings, but something immediately stood out to me as I considered this and other journal entries from the beginning of last year…

As strange as it sounds, I think I knew something was coming: something big, something painful, and something that had the potential to shake every foundation in my life.

God was preparing me for the journey that was about to unfold.  Could that be one of the ways He honored my cries for Him to be gracious with me??!!?