Aim for your Best

Soggy Saturday, here.

Thankfully hubby and I made our weekly grocery jaunt in time before the latest downpour hit.  Now, he's napping and I'm snug in my chair with a new show in the Netflix queue and blogging to you, sweet friends.

Highlights of this morning - saving 57% at Kroger and having breakfast out with my man.  Our brunch spread was a not-yet-used Christmas gift from Grandma.  And the savings were a stock-up of my favorite low carb frozen pizza made with a chicken crust.  ...It's the little things.

Last night was the final archery meet for our senior.  He had his best shooting set ever -aside from an unfortunate snafu.  Right before the last round, there was a medical emergency, causing chaos on the floor.  (Prayers that the girl is recovered)  Of course, he wasn't focused on his score and a lane judge pulled his arrows before recording them.  We'd videoed the round and know it was maybe one of the sharpest aims he'd had at a tournament.  Our best guess from the distance is 47 or 48 out of 50.

Sadly, they won't count a phone recording for state qualifier so he had to re-shoot all alone with a packed gym watching.  Between the stress of a classmate unwell and the pressure of hundreds of eyes gazing, he did not duplicate the same score.  In fact, it cost him at least 10 points.  But, he did have a memorable senior shoot.

We are going to miss rooting for our guy.  From the time he was able to run, we've been cheering from the sidelines for some sport. Soccer in preschool, basketball all the way to middle, mixed in with softball and a brief trial of football, finally settling with archery. He began in the 7th grade, walking over to the high school for practices because there was no team for his class.  We've watched him grow in ability and stature over the years. 

I'll admit this momma got teary in the stands thinking about the end of the season.

Though I was frustrated for him and the unfair hand he'd been dealt, his character shined through.  He was calm and professional with the judge, focused on the final five arrows of his high school career, and never complained.   I'm continually proud of the young man he has become.

And my final joy, this week...
It's no secret I love to write, always have.  Since the days of "dear diary," to moody teenage poems turned songs, to soaking up every creative writing class as a student, my passion to share in written form has been with me since I could structure a sentence.  And it is still my dream to publish a book -someday.

In the meantime, I'm honored to have opportunities like the most recent, writing for a local online magazine, OC Monitor.  As a community contributor, I'll be able to share snippets of life in a small town.  If you'd like to read my first post, click here.

But don't fret, I'll continue sharing on this happy little blog.  It's my outlet for a rainy day or one full of sunshine, wherever joy is to be found...

Little Lies…Big Trouble

Many years ago I took a few classes on writing for children.  It has always been a dream of mine to write a book and this was a way to practice the art.  Going through old files I found a few of the short stories and thought I'd share one with my readers.  If you have kiddos, maybe it'll give you a new story to read to them.  Stories like these remind me of the Highlight magazine I used to read as a kid.

Little Lies…Big Trouble

“But I don’t want to live in this dumpy old trailer!” 

The walls were so thin, I could almost hear the tin rattle with my scream. 

“Jeremiah, I know this place isn’t great to look at but I’ll fix it up.  I can’t pass up the chance to live somewhere free, work is hard to find,” Dad said, exhausted from the arguments we’d been having about our new move.

“What do I tell kids at school?”

I didn’t hang around for an answer but huffed down the tiny hallway, my elbows banging against the dingy walls, to grab my backpack.  It was my first day at a new school, which is never easy, but when you move around as much as me you get better at it.  Dad lost his job again and he’s decided that moving in next door to an old lady, Betty, is the answer. 

We live in ugly, rundown trailer for free and he gets paid to work at her house and farm.  I guess the good thing is that the trailer sets far enough off the road that nobody can see it from the bus stop; besides, the walk lets me think up my new identity.

The roar of the bus alerts me, as it comes down the gravel road, and slows in front of Miss Betty’s house. I notice it’s already full.  So much for finding a seat early and trying to blend in! It’ll be obvious I’m the new kid now.  I scan the rows for an empty seat up front, but no luck.  The only empty seat is at the back, and of course, it is surrounded by boys my age, at least they look about 11. 

I can hear the whispers and feel their stares on the back of my neck.  I wait.

“Hey kid, are you new?”
            “Where’d you move here from?”
“Did you all buy Miss Betty’s house?”

Looking down at my ratty sneakers and last year’s jeans, I know the story of buying that house would never fly.  I had to come up with something – and fast.

“Uh, no.  I’m just staying with Betty for awhile.  I ran away from home and she found me in her barn.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Said I had to go to school or she’d call the cops.  Name’s Jeremiah.”

All their mouths dropped and the boys huddled in, ready for more.  They hit me with a dozen questions like why and how and when.  I didn’t want to give away too much at one time.  After all, a run-away needed to have his secrets, be mysterious.

“Listen, my dad is an undercover cop.  I didn’t really run away. I just had to get away from the trouble.  Dad will come get me soon as things cool down.  Can I trust you all with this?” 

I locked eyes with each of them, hoping they’d buy it.  I explained that we were running from a bad gang my dad was trying to bust.  If they wanted to help in this secret operation, they needed to keep it quiet.

“Well, who do we say you are?” one of the boys asked.

“Just say I’m Jeremiah and that Betty is my grandma,” I explained as we pulled into my new school.

I hopped off the bus. I could feel a line following me.  The good news was they believed my tall tale; the bad news was it was a bigger lie than I had planned.  I made my way into the office to find out what class I needed to be in, hoping my new fans would disappear.

As I exited into the main hall, most of the boys from the bus were gathered, waiting.  Maybe I’d get lucky and I wouldn’t have class with any of them so the questions wouldn’t continue.

“Who has Mrs. Tichenor for a teacher?” I asked, hoping.

Only one kid raised his hand and the great thing was he was kind of shy.  Maybe I could escape this lie; or better yet, they’d all forget about it by the end of the day. 

It was so busy that I actually didn’t have a chance to talk much to other kids, this was good because I felt like my little lies were growing bigger on their own.  I worried about the bus ride home and the questions I knew I’d get.  I tried to make it to the bus early so I could pick my own seat, but I was one of the last on and again had to make my way to the back.  The boys didn’t waste any time.

“So what kind of bad guys was your dad chasing?”
      “Was there a gun fight?”
“Did you go on the bust with your dad?”

I tried not to go into too much detail, using the excuse that it was all top secret police stuff and telling them would put them in danger.  As we neared my stop, one of the boys, I think his name was Gavin, bounced next to me in the seat.

“Hey, I live pretty close to you.  Maybe I could get off the bus with you and we could play ball or something?” he asked.

I gulped. “Uh, no.  I don’t think Miss Betty would like it if I just brought company home without asking.”  I slid out from around him and headed for the door, eager to get home and over this crazy day. 

“Hey kid, how was your day?” Dad asked soon as I walked through the door. 

I shrugged it off, “Ok. I’m pretty tired and I have lots of homework.”

That would keep him out of my way for the day.  Maybe I could figure a way out of this lie before it hurt my Dad.  I wish I had told the truth.  Now I was in too deep.

During the next several weeks I avoided questions about my hero-cop dad.  I used to love making up stories because they were more fun than real life. But this lie was too big – too heavy to carry. 

When I had a day off from school, I looked forward to exploring more of Miss Betty’s house.  As shabby as our trailer was, Betty was a great lady who made terrific cookies and let me look through her old things.  As I stepped onto her porch, she met me at the door.

“Jeremiah, one of your friends called for you this morning.  Good thing I wake up with the rooster’s crow or I’d not been too happy answering” She held her arm out from the screen door so I could duck under and go inside.  “Don’t really remember who it was, but he said he’d come by sometime today.”

I froze in my tracks.  I’d tried to avoid having kids come home with me, using every excuse my mind could invent.  If they showed up, they’d want to see my room, which was not in Betty’s house. Worse yet, they might run into my dad and start asking questions.

“Uh, thanks Miss Betty.  Sorry about that.  Listen, I forgot something back at the house so I gotta go,” I yelled on my way out the door.  As I made a turn for the dirt path that led to my trailer, I heard voices at the side of the house.  It was my worst fear.

“Hey, are you Jeremiah’s dad?” Gavin said to Dad, trying to keep up with my dad as he worked on the yard.  “Jeremiah didn’t say you came back home.  You sure don’t look like a cop. Are you still undercover?  It’s ok, you’re secret is safe with…”

By this time Dad’s eyes locked with mine, and I could see the pain that my lies had caused.  He didn’t say anything to Gavin, just made an excuse to go to the shed.  I didn’t even care about being in the trouble I knew was coming.  It was punishment enough to see how much I’d disappointed him.

Dreams and Nightmares

For as long as I can remember, I've had a dream of being a writer.

Words have always spoken volumes to me.
And without much effort, they flow out of me.

When I was a little girl, I'm guessing around the age of six, I "made" my first book.  Cutting out cardboard pages and gluing them together, I bound the book that I would later fill with my own words.  I don't remember the story but I vividly recall the process.

And perhaps it was from that moment my passion for writing bloomed.

That dream has always included being published.  The online world made that a reality soon after I began blogging.  But I still desired to see my name in tangible print.  To have words come from my mind and end up in physical form.

It seems surreal that I will see not one but two published books this month.

Both are compilations, I'm honored to be a part of.  Both tell Austin's story.

When I gave birth to him nearly 20 years ago, I knew instantly he'd changed me forever.  My dreams became his.  My goal was his future.  Suddenly this tiny human was the center of my life...

Never would I have imagined he would help to ensure a dream of mine with the nightmare of his passing.

Bittersweet doesn't even begin to describe it.

While the little girl in me surely dreamed of a different topic for her first book, I am thankful for the opportunity to share Austin with the world.

Today is the second anniversary of Still Standing Magazine.  A website that gave me tremendous support when I found them at their launch.  A sisterhood that opened their broken hearts to help mine heal.  And a group I would later have the privilege of guest posting for, then most recently becoming a monthly contributor of.

This second edition book, Still Standing...Because They Lived, includes stories from many of the grieving writers who share their loss but also their hope.  Because they lived, we are still standing.  The link above will allow you to pre-order this beautiful collection today.

Some of you may recognize my own feet...and Austin's memorial tattoo, on the front cover.

Faithful Friday: Thanksgiving Begins

Happy Thanksgiving!

No, not the turkey-laden national holiday...but true thanksgiving.
Being thankful for one's blessings.  For me, it is more than a day, as I choose to reflect on thanksgiving the entire month of November.  In all truth, I try to live every single day like this.

Webster defines thanks·giv·ing  [ thàngks gívving ]  as this:

• : a prayer that expresses thanks to God

I knew I liked that Webster guy...

So on this November 1st, I start my thankful journey and random acts of kindness done in memory of Austin.  If you're new to this blog, you can catch up here as to the "why" behind this project.

Want to JOYn in? 

You can start small.  Simply dedicate your social media to thanksgiving.  Each day post something you are thankful for.  30 days of thanks.

Stumped on what to choose?  Ann Voskamp does a beautiful job here.  She even takes it a step further and chooses three things a day.

Even more?  Add random acts of kindness.  Search my blog for ideas of things we've done in the past, or Pinterest.  Good stuff there.  You can do it in memory of our sweet boy, or someone you love, or just because.  Send us some extra hugs on November 29 by messaging me some of your acts.  It's how we choose to remember Austin and what helps us get through the anniversary of losing him.

For today, I'm thankful for...being thankful.  For being in a place where I can see the good within the bad.  For the healing time - and God - brings.  For the month of November, though laced with painful memories, and the opportunity it gives to pause in thanksgiving and to share the love of God with others.

What are you thankful for today?

Faithful Friday: The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

My one word for 2013 was Submission.
I thought I chose it.  Looking back from a mere six months later, I know it chose me. 

Never would I have imagined God would hand me lesson after lesson to submit. 
And there's still another half of the year to go.  Mercy...

Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope. -Romans 5:3-4

This week has pretty much been a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad week, part from one bit of very good news. Of course the good news far outweighs the bad, yet I find myself shaking my head at life’s turn of events. Timing, as they say, is everything.  And the news fairy decided to pile it all on at once.
In the midst of the good and the bad, there's also been some ugly.

Over the course of the past seven days, I would learn yes or no on the “C-word” and yes or no on my career. Ironic how related they both are.  In addition, and in a freak accident that only I could be part of, I would also suffer from a potentially broken rib.

Yea, I don’t make this stuff up folks.

Much to my dismay, I received some bad news about my job. My position is ending.  It didn't come out of left field, but I must admit it was a bit of shock just the same.  And in respect for an organization I've known and loved for over 15 years -and dedicated most of my adult life to, that's about all I'll say on "The Bad" of my week.  As I've done all my life, I put my career in God's hands and trust that he'll place me exactly where I need to be, in his timing.

The Good.  Well, that was really, really good.  For over a year, I've fought a battle with my thyroid.  Truth be told, it's probably beat up on me for years before we discovered it.  A "nodule" appeared a month or so ago and resulted in a long waiting game of many tests.  Lumps are never fun news.  And with one in my throat, I went in for the results this week.  Praising God for three BIG words, "it's not cancer!"  My thyroid is still an angry little thing that we'll keep fighting, but what I'm facing is much more manageable and for that I'm ever-grateful.

Oh, yes, the Ugly.  I'm sure you're on the edge of your seat. 

In true OCD fashion, I dealt with the bad news as only I know how and went into cleaning mode at the office.  I'm a rip the band-aid off kinda gal and knew it had to be done eventually anyway.  So, in organizing and straightening up, I dropped some papers off my desk.  From my chair I bent over the arm to retrieve it, only to find I couldn't quite reach it.  Go-go gadget arms not responding, I pushed a little more and stretched to grab the paper when - POP - a sound my body has never made shocked me into a standing position.  Pain instantly followed and I stood there gasping, in disbelief of what just happened. 

Did I burst my spleen?  Is that even where a spleen would be?  Seriously, am I such a wimp that I can't even pick up a piece of paper without getting hurt?!  With my pride and my side stinging, I tried to continue through my afternoon.  I discovered that standing made it significantly worse so I huddled down and reverted to laptop work for the remainder of my day. 

By the time I got home that evening, I was in intense pain but still in complete denial.  A google search and webMD had diagnosed me with either a broken rib or a bunch of disorders I can't say or spell.  While at the doctor for the big news test results, I had her check and she promptly sent me for an x-ray.  (Confirmed results are still unknown.) 

In reflecting on the past week, submission kept whispering to me.  It led me to recall my "one word" and to go back and read my entry the beginning of this year.  How positive and upbeat I was, ready to hand it over to God.  How quickly I forgot...and failed.  On all three of these cases, I've had no control of the outcome.  Well, unless you count the lesson learned to not be lazy and stretch your body beyond it's physical limits to retrieve a piece of paper.  At any rate, they were and are reminders of the fact I've far from mastered this one word. 

I stressed.  I worried.  I was unkind to my family.  Much like an ostrich, I retreated and tried to pull the cover over my head.  I did pray but I wasn't very patient and I was certainly not very trusting.  I wanted to fix this and it frustrated me when I couldn't.  So, I'm dusting myself off and trying again.

It's Happy New Year x2.  Like Christmas in July, I'm celebrating an opportunity to start anew this summer and truly and freely Submit.  I may not always understand the answers but I'm trusting Him through it all.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. -Proverbs 3:5

 

 

 

 

Faithful Friday: Send Me God

"Christ has no body on earth but yours, no hands but yours, no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which Christ's compassion for the world is to look out; yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good; and yours are the hands with which He is to bless us now." ~Saint Teresa of Avila

 

 

 

As my husband is in the fire service, we are frequently shown the needs of this community, and of those passing through.  We meet people at some of the most critical moments of their life.  Aside from him doing his obvious job, Tim very often goes above and beyond in helping those in greatest need.  It's just his nature and one of the reasons I love him so.

When I was in fire service alongside him, it was my natural inclination to be drawn to the children involved.  I prayed on the way to a wreck or house fire.  Once on scene, I would gravitate to the little ones.  Whether it be to calm them for medical care, or distract them with a teddy bear, the mother in me would seek them out to help.

Last night, on our way home from a school function, Tim received a call seeking help.  I believe it was no coincidence that God had us directly across the street from where the need was. 

An immigrant family, who spoke little to no English, was stranded.  Having traveled many miles, with many more to go, they'd reached the end of their abiliy to continue further.  We felt blessed to help in the small way we did and to join a team of others who provided care.

Upon meeting the father, and him thanking us repeatedly in broken English, he went to his van and opened the door.  Out jumped two of the most beautiful little boys, bouncing with energy.  Oh, my soul they were heartbreakingly cute.  Though we didn't speak the same language, our smiles spoke to each other.  Loving, sweet, bubbly hugs from both of them filled my joy tank beyond capacity and I've replayed that simple, yet profound scene, over and over since.  I think the stickers found in our truck to share with them filled theirs.  Happy squeals are universal, even if I didn't know what they said to their mom.

On our way home the kids shared what an impact that made on them and how good it felt to help someone in need.  We all went to bed feeling grateful for God to putting us in the right place at the right time.  It's amazing the opportunities that he'll send your way, if you just open yourself up to him and SUBMIT to him to be used!

 

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me.   Matthew 25:30

 

Faithful Friday: Kindness

My heart says it was just yesterday....my head knows it has been 4 years.

The only part of yesterday I looked forward to was knowing the many acts of kindness done in Austin's memory.  I'm grateful to friends and family who won't let Austin be forgotten and choose to remember him in this way. We're blessed from the many prayers said for us yesterday- the many days prior - and those in the future.  Thank you!  For an otherwise terrible date on the calendar, we felt Austin everywhere and the day was filled with kindness.  God was certainly holding our family and His love was spread throughout.

The Lord says: Don’t brag about your wisdom or strength or wealth.

If you feel you must brag, then have enough sense to brag
about worshiping me, the Lord.

What I like best is showing kindness, justice, and mercy to everyone on earth.

Jeremiah 9:23-24

A collection of kindness done this month in Austin's memory and shared with us...

In honor & memory of Austin I called a friend this morn offered to

keep her sick child so she could go to work & not miss a day.

Our school club, friends of Rachel, is planning on helping a family on Christmas.

Our next RAK is collecting mismatched socks and gloves for a shelter.

My goal 300 socks and gloves! I know it will be a success,
you will be watching over us Austin!!

...we've taken meals to sick friends, sent random texts to encourage someone, stopped to help a stranded motorist, delivered thanksgiving meals to those working or without, prayed for the vehicle in front of me while driving, surprised workers with donuts...

Preparing and delivering a meal to a friend,

 whose family is in another state and has no family to spend the holiday with.

Giving toys for the EHBC community Kid's Christmas party.

At work we are going to adopt a family from Christmas Wish instead of doing our usual gift exchange.

Operation Christmas Child Boxes filled and delivered to church.

Helped prepare a meal for a group of hardworking kids.

Helped fill Thanksgiving food boxes for families in our community.

Salvation Army Bell Ringing Days picked.

Thoughts of you were with me all day!!

My random act of kindness is taking a sweet baby boy to see his grandma at work today. The smile on her face when seeing him melted my heart I am so glad that I was able to do that for her today :)

My friend Katie was at the mall and found $10 bill and turned it in instead of pocketing it like most would have done. Then here is the big story, as we were headed to Louisville to go to her house, we passed a car on fire, we automatically turned around and called 911. A man was in a ditch, his car was on fire. We saved this man's life by calling 911, along with another couple we met, who ran down the hill to the man who had somehow managed to get out of his car.

My friend Rachel was at work & she saw a man who had run out of gas, he was outside in the freezing cold so she gave him gas money. She said he thanked her numerous times and it brought tears to her eyes.

Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.
1 John 3:18

The last two days have truly been "all things Austin". The blessing yesterday from a stranger. Today, a phone call asking if I needed "some" food for families. The answer was "YES"!! It was the end of the day and I didn't know how I would get this done. I called my "RAK" partner in kindness and she went picked up "some" food. She brought "some" food back to school. Stuart and I went to help my friend and her daughter fill the boxes only to find "some" food was enough fresh fruit and veggies to feed "17" families. We have 8 of of the boxes delivered and tomorrow I will take the rest. I can't even explain the excitement on the faces of my kiddos. The sweetest moment was when two of my kiddos asked if they could help me take them for their neighbors!! They knew the need. I said, "How do you know where they go". One replied "We know because we know you and it's where you would take it." It was "all things Austin!"   I bought groceries for a friend

Austin, I try to do RAK everyday..not just this month. It doesn't have to be something big..a smile can make a difference to a person! Because of you, I try harder and harder to live my life by the Golden Rule!!

I know this isn't much. But at Hobby Lobby today I paid for the lady's next in line purchases and told her the story of how Austin was so giving and generous and how I was helping her in honor of him. After a few tears and a hug she departed and the clerk checking me out said "God Bless You, I don't know your situation or your friend but I think he would be proud, I know God is." Such a great feeling.
Thank you Austin for your inspiration and warm heart. I miss you!

In all things I have shown you that by working hard in this way we must help the weak and remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he himself said,

‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” Acts 20:35

Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you. 
It truly hugs our hearts to see Austin remembered this way!

We ended last night with our annual tradition of letting the kids do a reverse shopping spree, surprise free drinks, and included free laundry at local laundromats.

    

Austin, you are still missed with every breath, but we feel you so close whenever we're helping others. 

 

Faithful Friday: Love in a Shoebox

How can a shoebox give hope?  When it is packed with goodies, sent with love, and includes the best gift ever - the message of Jesus!

Mark 16:15 “Then he told them: Go and preach the good news to everyone in the world.”

We've decided to donate through Operation Christmas Child in memory of Austin, as one of the many acts of kindness we'll do this month.  It's an added blessing that our church is partcipating so it makes sending the shoeboes even easier.

The kids and I have been packing our shoesboxes over the past couple days.  Well, techinically they aren't shoe boxes, they are plastic containers with lids around the same size.  We thought they might be more useful to the child receving and durable to hold their treasures.

I've been touched by how excited they have been to do it and the serious conversations we've had around the table.  As they put in flashlights, we discussed how many of the children live in a world of darkness - both literally and figuratviely.  And although the gospel is shared with each child who receives a box, the kids wanted to include items within and on their box declaring the love of Jesus.  We've prayed about the kids who, within weeks will open these boxes of hope.

Originally our kids decided to do teenage boxes, figuring most people would probably buy for younger children.  We enjoyed it so much though that I surprised them tonight with an extra bag of goodies to do for the next age down as well. 
I think we've found an annual tradition and one that I hope to grow next year.  We jumped on too late to make a large impact, but every single box makes a difference.

Want to help?  Click below to learn how to make a shoebox.  Or, if you want to donate online, you can even track where your box ends up.  If you're local and you get it together this weekend, I'll even pick it up and take to church with me Sunday morning.  ....Get packing!  :)

How to Pack a Shoebox

Operation Christmas Child seeks to bring hope

and joy into the life of a child through the shoe box gift, but it doesn’t end there. Operation Christmas Child has worked with the local churches in over 150 countries to make sure that children know that long after the candy is gone and the toys have worn out, God loves them, has not forgotten about them and longs for them to be His children. We share with them a very simple, but profound message of hope, a message that you have probably heard before: John 3:16.

Faithful Friday: Transforming Trials

We shared our testimony Wednesday night. Verbally.

For someone who has shared both the trials and joys of her life, pretty much as an open book, you wouldn't think this difficult. The difference this time though is that it was aloud.  And being recorded.

It's so much easier for me to communicate in written form, especially if it's personal. Emotions don't get in the way when you're writing. Tears can fall across my keyboard without interrupting the story.
Now, I can certainly talk about many aspects of our life, and how God has worked through us, with ease. Our story is easy to share...up until 2008.

For the longest time I believed our testimony was the motorcycle wreck Tim and I survived in 2005. It was clear to see how God used that time to show us many things. That virtual stop sign was our wake up call for how short life is, how it changes in an instant. The wreck made us appreciate every moment. It strengthened our marriage and unified our family.

And I was content sharing the gratitude. I was grateful to God for the second chance. I was thankful for every moment - big or small. I treasured my family and every memory made with them. I took nothing for granted.  In fact, the time after the wreck was probably our most blessed years. Some of our favorite and beautiful family memories are from this period.  We watched more sunrises and sunsets in that time than our whole lives before. My prayer life forever changed. No longer did I only pray in need but also in thanksgiving. And I was in constant conversation with God. Life was good.

Looking back now I can see His hand in that wreck in so many more ways than I'd first realized. Though the wreck made me physically weaker it made me stronger on so many other levels. My relationships with God and my family were improved and solidified.

Little did I know this strength would be needed just three years later.

Sharing the story of losing Austin is still so very emotional for me. It's a struggle between wanting so very much to tell the world about how wonderful he was to the painful awareness of saying the nightmare of November 29, 2008, out loud. Speaking it is real. It's raw. And it's impossible to share without crying.

But I know that sharing it can be a help to others.  I just struggled in the days leading up to this with how best to get my words out without crying.  In the end, I just gave it God.  Tears did fall but he put a peace upon me, as he has done so many, many times through this journey, which enabled me to continue. 

I was also hesitant in how I could share the grace and the good that has come since losing Austin.  While I see it, some parts of me still hold on to the concept that we lost him for this to happen.  It's selfish, I know.  And in complete honesty, while I miss him with every fiber of my being, I know he is in the best place he can be.  He's where we all want to be someday.  He didn't stay here as long as this momma would've liked, but I'm grateful for the 14 years we had. 

Yet from the first few days of Austin leaving to now, I can pinpoint "God moments" of positive change.  Lives saved.  I can remember some of his lost friends and family at the funeral home and seeing the impact his death made on their life.  A few of them, while hugging me, shared new relationships with God.  One very dear boy said, "I want to make Austin proud."  And I've since seen the significant change in their lives.  Even in our own family, I see members who have a closeness with God that wasn't there before.  What better legacy could Austin have left behind? 

If this tragedy in some way brings even one person closer to God, what a joyous thing!  As I've shared before, Austin loved nothing more than a party.  Whenever we had friends and family over, he was our door greeter, with that giant smile that warmed you instantly, followed by an enormous "Blair Bear" hug.  I know.....I can imagine it in my heart.....at how my boy is going to be standing at Heaven's gate, so very excited and joy-filled, ready to welcome us in.  And that knowledge is what brings me joy, even through the pain of missing him.

 "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?"  - John 11:25-26

Sugar Cookie Smiles

I've loved writing for as long as I can remember.  Ever since I first wrote the words, "Dear Diary" as a child, I've been compelled to put pen to paper and share.  To anyone who knows me well, it is no secret that one of my lifelong goals and dreams is to write a book.  For awhile, I thought it would be children's book and even took some classes working towards that goal.  Now, I feel God pulling me to a different path.  I can already envision the cover of the book my heart needs to write.  It's not a subject I would've wished for myself, but I feel called to write a book on child loss, more importantly, about finding hope through loss and learning to move forward.

Tonight though I'd like to share a short story that's not so heavy.  It's an assignment from one of the writing classes I took.  Perhaps it is a lazy way out from posting a blog tonight but it is a story near to my heart and falls in line with my thankful moment today - the love for writing and appreciating the gift given to me for words to flow so freely.

SUGAR COOKIE SMILES

The walk between my grandmothers’ homes isn’t far, but I always linger along the way. The path offers silence and privacy, nestled far enough away from the houses at each end. There’s a line of oak trees on one side, a haven to cardinals and blue-jays, who sometimes sing to me on my walk.


The hilly path has history and I often wonder what my mom, and even my grandmother, was like at my age. This path, stomped by the feet of my family through the years, is now dusty and worn. Puffs of dirt settle on my shoes and fill the air if I run. The final hill leading to my great-grandmother’s yard is steep. Hidden among it are small stone steps that help you down.


Grandmother’s house is green, a pale, worn green like a faded picture in a coloring book. Two aged, metal poles pull gently at ropes tied between, holding the day’s wash. The clothes, still damp to the touch, smell of freshly fallen rain.


At first descent upon the backyard, you are instantly filled with sugary scents of cinnamon and vanilla. There are always cookies cooling for the next guest, rimmed in sparkling sugar, and topped with raisins in the shape of a smiley face.


The back porch creaks, announcing my arrival. A metal roof hangs above, weather worn and rusted from the years. When it is raining, you have to rush onto the porch or your head will be soaked from the water that collects there. Today though, the sun smiles down on the house and creates patterns of shade upon the yard.


The window is open and I can see Grandma working in the kitchen. She pretends I’m not there, continuing to pull fresh cookies from the oven. Opening the back screen door, she is forced to look up, as it screeches with every inch I pull it. Her face, full of lines and creases, forms into a happy smile. “Hurry child, before all the flies come in with you,” she says sweetly.


I don’t even have to ask, and she begins to pour a fresh, cool glass of milk, as I sit at the counter. The glass forms little droplets of water and I watch them slowly slide down, as my hand goes around it. I’m ready for a drink but not before biting into one of those cookies.


The warm scent of the cookie wafts up, enveloping me in comfort. The raisin smile reminds me of my grandma’s face, wrinkled and sweet. She watches me, as if it is first time I’ve tasted one. I think she gets more enjoyment from baking them for me than I do eating the cookies! The first bite always leaves a sugary trail behind, landing on my shirt and the countertop below.


I savor a few more before heading back. I skip home down the path, wondering how many smiles have been shared by family, while eating Grandma’s sugar cookies over the years.

Thankful Thursday

November is days away. Because it holds the anniversary of our son's death, it is a difficult month. Each day on the calendar, as well as the holiday, is a constant reminder of our loss. It's a bittersweet time, as we waiver between favorite memories with Austin, and the horror of those last moments. While a month that is full of sadness for us, it is also a time of Thanksgiving.

One of my favorite traditions from my Grandma Coons was to gather as a family on that holiday and share at least one thing for which we were thankful. Last year, focusing on "Thanksgiving" is how I chose to face each day. Knowing the day would be brimmed in tears, I needed to start my mornings reflecting on what I still had to be thankful for. No matter the heartache, there are still so many blessings in our lives.

Each morning, I began with an affirmation, a statement of what I was thankful for. It carried me through my day, reminding me of a positive during such a negative time. This year, I plan to take it a step further. For the month of November, my blog (and life) will be focused on "Thankfulness" and I'm challenging myself to write a post every day.

Since losing Austin, we've also started the tradition of "Random Acts of Kindness" on his angel-versary. You see, that's what Austin was all about. I have so many cards and letters from those who knew and loved him, sharing small and simple, but powerful, moments they remember and treasure him for. Austin's legacy will always be his warm smile, loving hugs, and helping hands. Because November 29th is such a tragic reminder for us, it is how we've chosen to get through it. Helping strangers has lifted our broken spirits.

Last year, I asked others to join in his memory and I plan to do the same closer to the date. So many messages of support and sharing their acts came through via email and on his Facebook page, Remembering Austin. Each time a wave of grief would overcome me, a message of hope would arrive and hold me. It was such a wonderful way to remember such a beautiful soul.

With each random act, it was as if Austin's spirit carried on and it blessed our family. Because of that, I've decided to dedicate this entire month to my precious boy and will be striving to perform random acts of kindness every single day. It's the only way I know to get through a seemingly impossible time. Each day, each thankful moment, every act of kindness, will be a tribute to Austin, the life he led, and the inspiration of hoping to be a fraction of who he was. I hope you'll join me...

"Never let loyalty and kindness leave you! Tie them around your neck as a reminder.

Write them deep within your heart." - Proverbs 3:3

Lost in the pages

I'm reading a new book.  It seems every summer I pick out one of the fattest novels I can find to savor on the weekends and whenever I get a chance to read.  This summer, I am reading, "Sisters of the Quilt" by Cindy Woodsmall.  It is actually a trilogy, three books rolled into one, although I'm still on the first.

I started reading it a couple weekends ago on the boat.  Actually, I picked it out while Tim was purchasing his fishing license and bait for our Sunday afternoon outing.  While I enjoy fishing, I can only do it for so long.  Reading though is something I could get lost in for hours.

This series is set in an Amish community, is Christian based, and faith inspired.  Although I'm only a few chapters in, I'm hooked, anxiously awaiting the next time my hands can wrap around the large spine of the book.  I'm connected to the lead character, Hannah, who faces tragedy both personally and through events within her family.  Though only 17, her faith is strong but wavers in these uncertain moments.

My love of books is a mixture of what my mother passed down to me and my innate desire to write, almost since birth.  As a child, I remember my mom reading to me and how excited I was when I first learned to read to myself.  I would read for hours on end and usually my mom would be right beside me, doing the same.  That early foundation for reading is probably what influenced my love to write.  Words would jump out to me from a book and I would think to myself, I want to do this someday!

Writing a book has been an evolving dream of mine for years.  I used to think I wanted to write children's books but life has a way of shifting the course of your journey.  Now, I hope my first book is life inspired and will help other's facing child loss.  Between this blog, and the memorial blog I started for Austin shortly after his passing, I'm sure several chapters have already been formed.  ...Someday.

For now, I enjoy writing for this blog, as well as reading whenever I make the time.  This long weekend ahead will certainly be the perfect opportunity to lose myself in a chapter or two...or three or four!

joy in memories

I find comfort in pictures.  They are snapshots in time that capture moments and memories of our past.  When loved ones are gone, those photos are all that remains.  They tell a story and share the life of those we've lost.  I treasure each photograph of Austin and am thankful that I took so many photos throughout the fourteen years he blessed us by being here. 

Last year, the only way I knew how to count down the days leading up to Christmas, was to celebrate each year we had with him through photos and memories.  This slideshow shows him from his first Christmas at only six months, to our last day with him, in which he helped decorate our home for the holidays.  Even though tears fall each time I see it, I'm thankful for those photos as they allow me remember each special year.

Christmas through the years with Austin

I also wrote an entry every day on his blog leading up to Christmas, which shared thoughts and memories of each year with him.  Having such a love for a writing has been a blessing to me because I always kept journals and filled his baby book with moments and milestones.  From our 1st Christmas, to the 5th Christmas, to our last full holiday  with him in 2007, I'm so grateful to have this collection now so that even when I'm not here to share his story, he will live on.  

As hard as it was to relive each memory of Austin's life, his blog is so special to me now.  I can go on and search any topic, any date, and relive the moment all over again.  And, I know that Noah and other family members will have this collection of memories that tell Austin's Story for generations to come.

Dear Diary

Throughout my childhood, I kept a diary. As I grew older, for many years, I kept a journal. The difference between the two was moving from just recording my day and life to really reflecting upon it. One year, I chose to keep a gratitude journal and each night I would write at least one thing I was thankful for. Taking the time to pull out a notebook and pen though and hand write my thoughts often got pushed aside for things I felt deserved more of my time.

As such, it was a natural transition for me to move toward blogging. I am able to do something I enjoy, which is to write, but I can do it much quicker. My thoughts are still very much raw and unedited. I will sometimes look over what I write quickly and do a spell check at the end, but for the most part, what I write is in the moment and how I'm feeling at that time. Especially given the topics and subjects for the blogs I have, it just seems the right thing to do. It is real. Me...exposed in print.

It might seem strange to some who don't know me well that I would share so much. I can be reserved in person and difficult to get to know. I'm not shy, I just don't fully show myself to someone I've just met. Writing has always been an outlet for me though and it's easier to express myself in that form.

None of my blogs really meant to be public when I first started out. With Austin's, it was a way for me to capture my emotions that I couldn't share externally. I could get out what I wanted - and needed - to say regardless of how many tears fell. What I found though was that people found comfort and even inspiration in the sadness. Those who didn't know Austin, and some who never even met him, came to learn who he was. At that point, sharing his story and continuing his legacy became my motivation. As hard as some of my posts were, they were true and how I was feeling at the time, and they helped me keep his memory alive.

With this joy blog, it was just something that called out to me to do. I knew that the coming months would be hard, especially as we near the second anniversary of Austin's death. I could focus on the pain and the looming date or I could choose to see the positives of each day. The pain would be there regardless, but in searching for the joy, I at least have something to look forward to. The blog was purely selfish and a means for me to record my thoughts, reflect on each day, and hopefully heal along the way.

When I write, I have no idea who reads the posts or what they think, unless they tell me. The site keeps track of unique visitors so I can see how many and I can tell what posts might be more popular than others but overall I am writing blind. It doesn't bother me, because as I've mentioned, the goal in the beginning was mainly to help myself and the few family members I knew would read. What I've found though is that this blog has brought joy to others and that both surprises and blesses me. It wasn't my intent but I'm glad to spread a little happiness in someone's day. And actually, that knowledge in itself brings me joy. It was unexpected that something I wrote might help or change someone but I'm grateful for the opportunity to share.



In the end, I am thankful God's given me a gift that I can use to show his love. On difficult days, I remind myself that the joy I find in today's sunset may bring sunshine into someone's tomorrow. And so I record and share another day.

Happy little bookworm

I walked into a bookstore today to buy a gift for a co-worker and it was like meeting an old friend. Although I read frequently, usually one or two books at a time, I don't often visit bookstores. I've just found it easier and cheaper to borrow and trade with friends or order them online. However, as I stepped inside and the scent of fresh, crisp paper swirled around me, I remembered how much I love them. I could've lingered in the aisles for hours!

Maybe it is my love for writing that led me to love books...or maybe it is the other way around. Either way, I remember loving to read at a very early age. In fact, I wanted so desperately to read that I memorized a favorite book just so it would appear that I knew how.

My older cousins had learned to read and were picking on me that I hadn't yet, although I wasn't even old enough to go to school. When I went home that night and Mom read my favorite story at bedtime, I noticed that I knew every word before she said it. I practiced in my head as she read and before she turned the page, I knew what words came next.

My plan was ready for the next time those two show-off cousins came to visit! Book in hand, I sat under my Grandma's counter, quietly reading to myself as they walked in. One of them must've commented about me reading a picture book when I began to recite the page. They both stood there, frozen in surprise and disbelief. Justin, the oldest, decided quickly that I just memorized the page and flipped through towards the back. He challenged me to read it, which I did, perfectly. To this day, I don't know if they ever found out about my sneaky trick.

Memorizing that book must have helped me though, as Mom said I learned to read shortly after. While it was never necessary to learn every page, there were many books afterwards I read over and over again. Even as an adult, there are books I treasure and would never grow tired of reading. In fact, the true test of a good book is when you can open it, eager and excited to turn the next page, even though you know the ending. So, excuse me while I go read a favorite book...again!