Judson’s occupational and physical therapists gave us a windchime when Jud died.  They shared how they wanted the ringing of the chime to remind of us of our boy and how much he loves us. Ironically, the wind never seemed to blow enough to cause it to chime.  Since placing it outside our window on

On Judson’s birthday, we woke to find signs outside our window, next to our front door, and on our garage, expressing love for Judson and our family.  I burst into tears at the sight, overwhelmed by such thoughtfulness. I think our friends who did this were also being very purposeful in expressing our loss to

Some friends gave us a nicely wrapped Christmas gift last week.  When we returned home that evening, I was about to open the gift when it dawned on me that because Drake and I decided not to exchange gifts this year, we weren’t going to have anything to open on Christmas morning.  So, in light

One of our pastors asked Drake and me to write first-person accounts of Mary and Joseph, Jesus’ parents, for the Christmas Eve service at our church.  Since my Spiritual Director, just a week before, had encouraged me to ponder my current loss in light of Mary’s experience, I knew this was an important “assignment” for

In celebration of Judson’s birthday, our family, including extended family and “Auntie Sarah,” gathered in the morning at his grave site.   We all brought decorations to commemorate the 3rd year since his birth.  Gathered around a small plot of land, we sang children’s songs, read kid’s stories, and shared treasured memories about our beloved

In one of my frankest moments, I said to Drake, “Don’t you think it’s a little cruel that Judson was born on Christmas Eve, since God knew He was going to die at such a young age?” “The word ‘cruel’ seems to imply intention,” Drake responded. “I’m not just implying intent, it actually seems purposeful. 

I spent my afternoon purchasing gifts for Judson, gifts to decorate his grave site for his birthday. As I drove from Michaels Arts & Crafts, to Target, then to Party City, I shed tears between each destination.  I am buying gifts for my deceased child, and yet I am so concerned about them being special-something

I regularly ask Jessie throughout the day, “Can I have a kiss?” to which she often responds by shaking her head, indicating no.  Periodically, my request yields a precious smack of her lips, though she makes no effort to actually deposit her kiss on me. However, the other morning, while we were playing together in