O' Christmas Tree!

What's so big...

you can't see around it.

..can't see over it.

..can't see under it.

And can't see through it?

...Our Christmas tree!

so big I can't get it fully in a picture!

What's new for us is that it's a real tree.  Our first ever.  Last year's pre-lit pine didn't make the cut as we packed away the decorations at the first of the year.  The problem was, I forgot until we were at the point of putting it up this weekend.  The kids and I searched the shed three times over, before Tim arrived home and reminded us.

So, much like our family is accustomed to, we moved to plan B.  A quick trip to our local fruit market for a magnificent 8 foot fir.

It's tradition that we decorate for Christmas on Thanksgiving weekend.  Of course, that weekend is also one of the most difficult for us, as it was our last holiday with Austin. The next few days begin our hardest season, as we try to move our memories away from the tragic to the precious. To hold onto the sweet moments we remember, instead of the pain that comes with this time of year.

One of the sweetest gifts Austin gave us on that last perfect day with him, was that he insisted we finish decorating.  We'd spent all Saturday working primarily on the outside of the house, taking advantage of the unusual warm November weather.  At day's end, when I wanted to call it quits, and save the trees for tomorrow, he insisted otherwise.  Reminding me of our tradition, we set to completing it all.  That night was magical, as we snuggled together under the glow of Christmas lights watching a holiday movie.  Our last memories as a family...

Several days into our tragedy Tim and I realized what a gift it really was. Those trees would've never been put up, in the chaos of our loss, and our tradition would have forever been changed.  None of us would now have those precious memories - like how easily Austin placed the angel on top because of his height, what ornaments were his favorite (because he'd told us that day), or the laughter he and Noah shared in decorating the kids tree.  Every moment now locked in our hearts to recall each season.

That gift also ensured Christmas continued in the Blair house.  Our first one completely without Austin was painful, but remembering pushed us to continue with decorating.  We imagined Austin smiling down from Heaven, and Noah wondered if our lights were bright enough for him to see.  It kept us going...moving forward.

Here we are four years later, once again a family of four, with the addition of Tina, but forever holding Austin in our hearts and memories.  We're stronger, thanks to many prayers and ultimately peace from God.  We are hopeful.  We are thankful.

Wishing you new memories, old traditions, and many blessings this holiday season!

Faithful Friday: Can I Get a Witness?

If you're like me your humming to Marvin Gaye right about now because of that title. 

Maybe I'm the only one who does that but, once I get little tunes in my head, it's hard to not to sing and dance.  This particular tune has little to nothing to do about today's post, other than it does bring me joy...much like the past two nights have done.  And the title is kinda catchy, once you read the 'rest of the story'.

You might recall me writing about an upcoming outreach our church would be doing.  It began this past Wednesday night.  As I predicted, I was somewhat apprehensive in the counseling role I would play, yet I knew it was in God's hands.  By the time our group met to pray though, calm washed over me and any uncertainty originally felt had disappeared. 

Until I reached the hallway.

Hearing the invitation, I remembered there were at least two other ways I might counsel someone.  One for re-dedication, the other for prayer.  I realized in that moment I'd only truly prepared for the possibility of leading someone to Christ.  My heart fluttered and I wondered if, in whatever situation that arose, I'd be prepared with what to say.  Thoughts returned to our pastor's prayer in that "we couldn't mess this up.  It didn't matter what we said or didn't say because God began this process long before they reached me." 

I am his vessel...

So many amazing moments have happened since I have let go and let God!  Words have flowed through me.  Maybe it was what they needed to hear, maybe it wasn't, but I can feel positive changes taking place.  God is most certainly at work through this outreach.  I am awe-inspired, spirit-filled, and excited for the days to come!
 
What has surprised me is the role I've been able to play in helping someone through grief.  I don't know why this didn't occur to me beforehand.  Maybe the fact that it didn't - and I couldn't worry or dwell on it - has helped.  While it is very easy for me to reach out and help someone through this blog, or in written form elsewhere, I haven't been as comfortable sharing my story in public.  Normally emotions get in the way.

Yet last night, I found myself sharing the story of losing Austin with someone who had suffered great loss.  Hearing the struggle they were facing and the turmoil in their heart as they questioned and battled with God spoke volumes to me.  I had to share the hope I knew.  Of where I once was, so deeply shattered by grief, to where I am today. 

When they left I realized it was the first time in the nearly four years since Austin's been gone that I've been able to get through that testimony without sobbing.  Yes, tears welled, but God took over and covered me in his grace to allow the story to be shared.  My prayer is that in some small way it helped, at least in a gentle nudging that leaning on God will help them in this journey.  In fact, it's the only answer I have for how I've made it through.
 

But in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy, always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.  -1 Peter 3:15 ESV

Little Duck

The hospital has been our second home the past few days.  That hospital.  The one where we learned Austin was gone.  It' been nearly four years but it is still that hospital - and probably always will be.  I hate it.  The smell, the lights, that room.  We had to walk past that room on Sunday, Father's Day.

I had to push away every screaming, crying fiber of my soul to focus on the "emergency" at hand because a big part of me wanted to slide into the floor and break.  But a sweet little girl, who rarely complains, was in obvious pain.  And she needed us...wanted me.

Tina, my niece, has blessed us since moving in last summer.  Unreal to imagine that she's been here nearly a year.  So much has changed since that first weekend she stayed with us, "just until we figured things out."  Now, it's hard to imagine her petite smiling face not here.  I miss her when she's away.

In fact, she was away this weekend and got hurt.  Saturday night, while we were out with Noah and his baseball team, Tina injured her foot.  Her exact comment on Facebook was, "OMG My sister just fell off a horse and I have a huge hole in my foot and there is blood everywhere!"   Needless to say, I was slightly panicked when calling to check.  I was assured all was well.  Apparently she'd ran barefoot chasing after her sister, who she saw slide off a horse, and hurt her foot but was ok. 

By the next morning though, all was not well.  My sister calls, as we're headed out the door, asking if we want to meet at the house or the ER.  Apparently Tina didn't just step on something but whatever punctured her foot was in her foot - and trying to come out the other side.  Even though my sister, and husband, offered to take her, Tina wanted me there.  So despite my body's reactions, I knew I had to be.

Unfortunately, an xray can only detect so much so on Sunday nothing was found.  They dosed her up with antibiotics and gave us an appointment card to see a surgeon the next day.  But the little girl who rarely complains was in pain, scared, and breaking my heart.  She was hurting and there wasn't much I could do, except pray over her and wait for morning.

The little girl put on a brave face on the way to the doctor, but I could see the questions and worry in her eyes.  The doctor shared our concern, sending her immediately to an outpatient room and scheduling a surgery.  Stubbornly independent, she declined the wheelchair, hopping on crutches across the parking lot to check in.  It gave her a distraction from her worries, I guess.  Once settled in her room, her nervousness was confirmed, as she reached for my hand. 

That brave little girl was beyond strong, never complaining as we waited four hours for surgery, or as they tried painfully to set up her IV - twice.  The nurses bragged on her.  The other staff complimented her spirits.  And later the doctor shared the sentiments, amazed she'd walked at all, considering the three inch chunk of wood embedded in her tiny, yet infected foot.  I called her a duck on water...calm on top, paddling underneath. 

The brave-but hurting-and-still-a-bit-scared little girl smiled.

Once in the car, packed and ready to leave, her first tears of the day appeared.  In pain?  Still worried?  I ran through the list of possibilities verbally with her.  No, just the obvious...she wanted to be HOME.  Our home.  And suddenly all the stress and haunted memories of the weekend began to fade just a bit.

She's needed us this past year, just as much as we needed her.  Tina has been a beautiful distraction, as I predicted so many, many months ago.  But now I was seeing she wanted us just as much.  Was finally comfortable here... settled... feeling a part of our family she so obviously already is.

Cheeseburger is Back!

We've survived our first week of baseball season.  There's been tears, frustration, excitement and about every other emotion in between.  We've braved 40 mph winds, rain and winter-like temps.  And I've become a Martha Stewart in the laundry room, perfecting the art of removing grass stains from white pants.  All have been memories in the making!

I can't deny that with Noah's first game we weren't filled with reminders of Austin.  Baseball and Austin just went together.  It was touching that Noah asked to have his jersey number, 23, but I don't know that I was prepared to see it in the field again.  The fact that, at only twelve, Noah already has the build and frame Austin did at 14 added to the resemblance.  For a moment, Tim and I both were transported back four years ago to watching Austin play.

But ever his own individual, Noah quickly reminded us we were watching him.  Although he has many of his brother's best traits, (physically, character and athletic) he is 100% Noah. 

Unlike Austin, Noah's favorite sport has always been basketball.  As a young child, he enjoyed baseball but it wasn't his passion.  He played, partially I think, because of Austin.  It was something they shared.  And now maybe he's playing again as a way to remember him. 

It's been nearly four years since he's played and his hiatus was evident in his first few games.  Rusty, but ever the sportsman, he grew with each swing, every catch.  We've watched him transform in only a week's time.  Last night's game was his coming out party!

Noah's last season in baseball he earned the nickname, Cheeseburger.  It started as a joke.  Before each game, Tim would place a bet with him.  Make a base hit, get a buck.  Home run earns you a cheeseburger from the concession stand.  Now what Tim failed to remember is that Noah is and always has been good at every sport; but most importantly, that boy loves him some cheeseburger!  One game he did so well, the coach offered him a full meal deal.  By the end of the season, everyone was yelling Cheeseburger from the stands and he had an open tab at the stand.

While Noah still enjoys a cheesy meat patty, what speaks to him most at this age is dough.  Green dough that is....as in CASH!  The first time Noah went up to bat last night, he struck out, but not without hitting a foul, which if straightened would've been sweet.  Tim retreated to the dug-out, whispered something to him, and returned.  I would later learn he offered him $5 for every base he reached on a hit. 

This was shared with me, as nearly weeping, Tim added up his debt with an amazing triple Noah hit in the last inning.  This, added to the $5 for a wow moment catch Noah made in the outfield, cost him a total of $20 for the game.  (Personally, my bank account suggests we go back to cheeseburgers!) 



But then again, seeing Noah's smile - both after his hit and especially all the way across the field after his catch was worth every penny.  In fact, it was priceless!

Play Ball

Blairs and baseball used to go together like peanut butter and jelly. 

Most of our year was spent at the ball field.  Spring meant the beginning of training.  Bats whooshing in the air to loosen young muscles.  The soft thud of a ball hitting glove, silent toss returned, a second thud.  Moments that felt like hours practicing the swing - miss...miss...and an occasional PING when ball met bat.  Summers under the hot sun, no shade on metal bleachers, but no better place to spend an afternoon.  The scent of hot dogs and popcorn mingled with dirt and leather.  The adrenaline of a close game, the way a whack of the bat could bring you to your feet cheering.  A short break before the new school year and then starting all over again with the coming of fall.  Only pretzels and cold RCs were replaced with hot chocolate and extra blankets on chilly evenings. 

But that all changed a few years ago.  After we lost Austin, baseball just wasn't the same.  It was too difficult being on a field, remembering Austin's love of the game.  We waited the next spring, to see how Noah would respond.  Almost to our relief, he let us know he couldn't play.  Baseball and the Blairs would have to take a break.  And even though a part of me knew it would be too hard, I worried we'd never step onto a field again.  I wondered what Austin would think, seeing us unable to do something we'd all loved to share as a family.



Austin & Noah 2007

Then last year, the week of Austin's birthday, Tim won a set of tickets to nearby game.  I held my breath, wondering how we'd do.  Being back on the bleachers, surrounded by so many memories of him, certainly flooded our hearts.  Tears softly fell.  Yet we enjoyed the game.  As he always does, Austin gave us so many signs that night he was there. 

Now, another step forward.  Noah's decided to play again.  Three years later and he's ready to take to the field.  This morning he and his dad went through our supply, Noah wanting to use Austin's bat and bag.  We went shopping for a new helmet and cleats.  He was excited and even though it still tugs at our hearts, and probably always will, we all are. 

Beautiful Distraction

This is a difficult school year for us.  It would have been Austin's Senior year and he would've graduated next May.  For parents who've lost a child, life is full of "what could've beens" and missed memories.  Milestone moments are the toughest though.  Throughout the school season, each special occassion we see others and Austin's friends celebrating, is a reminder of our loss.  The pain from losing him is magnified and our hearts are torn apart yet again. 

However, even though the pain can sometimes seem unbearable, God always has a way of pulling us through.  Just as in those first few weeks of our loss, He washes peace over us when we need it most.  At times, I feel He even sends other trials and troubles, or allows them to come at least, to take our mind off the heartache awhile. 

For the past couple years, I've seen it mostly in the form of physical ailments.  And while in the moment of suffering from a shingles outbreak, bronchitis, or a random new allergy to poison sumac, it's not something I'd request; looking back I see how it helped distract my focus.  Or, perhaps it's the chaotic burden of multiple appliances breaking down at once or other household emergencies.  The past month the health of others, including Tim, has certainly required the majority of my attention. 

In the midst of the troubles though has been one very beautiful distraction.  Since the first of August, we have had my niece, Tina, in our home.  It was sudden and unexpected, certainly not something we were emotionally prepared for but somehow it's fallen together quite well.  She's a special child, full of curiousity and wit, and has added extra doses of laughter and love to our family.

Though I've gradually changed around Austin's room the past year or so, it has been a slow process and something that has been difficult for us to complete.  Tina coming to us, and the knowledge she may be with us for quite some time, has pushed us at completing this...with a purpose.  While there have been many tears packing our beloved son's things away, I have done it with the gentle whisper of him in my ear.  Austin has loving prodded me through all of this, urging me to help her because he knows we can.  And even on days when I doubt my abilities, it just takes a hug from Tina, or her soft smile, to remind me again.

In a year that we could so easily have spiraled back down into the fog of depression, letting each milestone and special day missed pull us deeper, we have been given the gift of purpose.  We have been blessed with the opportunity to help care for another child in need, who gives us new focus, strength, and love.  She's helping heal our family without even knowing it.  And I couldn't be more grateful.