Goosebumps at the Ballpark

Celebrating someone’s birthday once they're gone is a bittersweet and often difficult thing to do.  Your heart doesn’t always feel like rejoicing when it is feeling the weight of the loss.  Especially when it is your child.

Austin’s birthdays have varied since losing him.  The first, after he passed, we spent the day away from the house, just the three of us, and planted a memorial tree in our backyard.  What would’ve been his 16th, we had family over, a gathering just like he always loved.  In other years we’ve sent balloon letters up to him or floated sky lanterns in his memory. Most have been somewhat somber and heavy.

Yesterday was his 6th birthday gone.

I hadn’t planned anything leading up to it, figuring I’d let our emotions dictate what we did to remember him.  And then Tim called one afternoon telling me he’d won tickets to a ballgame.  We both teared up once realizing the date.  July 8th - Austin’s birthday.

Baseball and Austin went together like peanut butter & jelly.  They just fit.  

From the time he was tall enough to hit off a T, a passion was sparked.  Spring to summer our family spent our days (and nights) at the ballpark.  Once he grew old enough to enjoy watching it on TV, he was hooked even more.  Bats and gloves littered my house, so much so that we still keep one of Austin’s bats by our front door.

One of our favorite things to do as a family was go to a minor league ballgame.  At one particular park, they had fans come to the field in between innings to play games.  Without fail, Austin would always get picked. He won pizzas, gift cards, and shirts, including one of his beloved Ts that is now included in a quilt on the back of our couch.

When he passed, it was hard for us to love baseball again.  For awhile, it hurt too much being on the field.  In fact, Noah even stepped away from the sport for a couple years, coming back just in time before he aged out.  Last night, sitting behind the home plate, we all realized again how much we missed it.  The Blairs just need baseball!

As if winning tickets to the game on his birthday weren’t enough of hug, 
as always, our boy came through in very big ways.

The weather report was plain ick for the day, actually calling for hail storms and torrential winds.  I was worried it would be so bad that we couldn’t even drive the hour to the field, as the timing called for it to hit late afternoon.  While at work and driving around, I sent up a little prayer that we might have a rain free evening to enjoy the game and remember Austin.  God delivered big time…

Checking the weather again later, I noticed the 85% chance had disappeared to 0% and the hour by hour only included a very small chance of rain, way into the evening.  Wonderful!  We arrived to sunny skies and high 80s in July – picture perfect.  In fact, it wasn’t until we got home late last night and headed to bed that I heard the rain hit.

Getting to our seats (which were amazing  - 2nd row, right behind the plate), our family was met by the park photographer, offering to take a group shot.  Asking about our shirts, Noah shared his brother’s love for the game.  Before he walked away, the guy tossed him a ball to have as a souvenir.    And later he caught a fan shirt during a toss out.  His big brother was certainly shining down on him.

Settling in with an array of fried goodies on our laps, I look up to another goose bump moment.

For the first pitch, the catcher bent in front of us in a blue jersey with #23 printed in bold white – Austin’s number.  Every year he ever played, #23 was Austin’s jersey and even before he passed it was a special number for our family.  Since he’s been gone he uses it to send us hugs and this was just about one of the best ever.  It was all I could do to keep from bursting into tears.

Such a special moment!

The rest of the night continued to be a home run.  We felt Austin’s spirit with each swirling of dust and ping from the bat.  All of us shared memories and stories of baseball days and family trips to games. Things we loved (and missed) about him.  It truly was a celebration of Austin’s life.

Not a feeling we’re quite used to on this grief journey, but one I’m grateful for.

Happy 20th birthday in Heaven, Bub.  

Thanks for the hugs from above.

Still Standing: Spring Showers

My monthly post for Still Standing Magazine was submitted earlier this week.  And, like always, nobody knew about the post prior to me sending.  Not even family because I like for them to have true reactions to whatever I've written.

My posts for Still Standing are raw, in the moment, or unedited reflections from my child loss journey. They do not always contain the joy I try hard to express on this blog, because through this walk in grief, joy has not always been present.

Having only been a monthly contributor for six months now, many aren't even aware I'm regularly writing for this publication.  This month, I write about spring and the memories of Austin the season brings.  A major focus of the story includes daffodils.

Monday, when I arrived home from work, these greeted me from the kitchen.

Picked by my mom and the kids.

And I couldn't help but feel a hug from above from Austin, too.

Go check out the full post here and see if you agree...

Yes, God, I hear you!

Tim and I had goosebumps the moment we walked into church this morning.

We have been praying and talking ...and if I'm being honest, hesitating, with the answer God had given us.  So many times in our lives we've seen the good that God provides.  We've been the recipient of "God gifts" only He could know about and send to us.  We trust God and we know he always, always provides. 

Sometimes though, we doubt.  We wait.  We question.  We test. 
And even when He shouts, we still don't listen.

Today, we heard him loud and clear.

We walked in on mission and set out to complete a task God had laid on our hearts for many weeks.  It was something we should've been obedient in doing awhile back, but given the events life dealt us this past summer we just wanted to make sure we could handle the commitment.

Bending down to sign up on a list, I noticed a gap on the page.  An obvious line had been skipped.  At first, I was just going to drop to the bottom and write our names in the next slot, but I glanced back up and questioned why there was a hole.  Moving my finger, I noticed the number in front of the blank line.

#23.  _____________________________

We both just stood there for a moment in shock, awe, and thankfulness for God     (and Austin) smacking us upside the head with grace.

You see, #23 has always been a significant number for our family.  Even more so now that Austin is gone.  It was his favorite, his jersey number, and just a short sweet symbol that has always represented him.  Since losing Austin, we've been blessed with so many signs from him using that number.  Many times it is to let us know that he is ok or he is near, but we also get the number, almost as an Austin hug, to let us know he approves or is proud of whatever we're doing. 

I know God uses the number too, because it always gets our attention. 
And it certainly did today. 

Praying He doesn't have to throw a brick at me to get it next time...

Looking Upward

Upward Basketball was a big part of our family when Noah was little.  A positive sports experience with a spiritual background, it was a wonderful way for him to be introduced to basketball.  He started playing in first grade, with his Dad as coach, and a very special person as the assistant.

His big brother, Austin, helped coach Upward that year. Initially, I was somewhat concerned, because Austin was young himself, and we didn't know if the church would even agree. Thankfully they did and it was a blessing for so many reasons...

Together they coached Noah's team through a perfect season. I was touched by how generous and motivating Austin was. The boys enjoyed having him and learned so much that year.

Austin continued to "coach" Noah for any sport he played. He was always there on the sidelines, rooting for him or pushing him further because he knew Noah could do it.  When we lost Austin, sports seemed to be put on pause.  Noah had a hard time being on the field because baseball was such a huge reminder of his brother.  In fact, he took a break for several seasons, not coming back to that game until this past year. 

With basketball, it helped Noah transition because of where the game was played.  By 2009, he'd outgrown Upward and moved into school sports.  Sadly, we had no memories of Austin cheering from the stands at a school game, but that made it easier for him to continue on the court.

Cheering for Noah the past few years has brought us so much joy.  Our "little" big guy has grown in the sport, his defensive game improving as his size increased each year.  Normally the tallest kid on the court, "Brickwall Blair" dominated and we'd chuckle overhearing comments from some of his smaller opponents.

Now in middle school, we were all disappointed when he didn't make the team last month.  We knew going in it would be difficult, as multiple elementary teams merge into competition for one small group.  Knowing his passion for the game, I needed to find a way to keep him involved.  Not wanting to travel, remembering our season in AAU, a friend mentioned Upward. 


When my little guy was still little



Upward for middle school?  It didn't seem possible from what I remembered of our timid, non-competitive, seasons past.  Noah joked that he really wasn't interested in playing for stickers anymore. 

Last night was his evaluation and we were all thrilled to see the growth and change in the sport.  I think it will be the perfect mix of competition, improving his skill set, laced with the positivity and uplifting spirit that is Upward.  We're excited for the season.

During evaluation they randomly called boys up and placed a numbered sticker on their back, which would help the coaches score and rank them as they played.  These scores would later be used to form teams.  Goosebumps covered both Tim and my arms, when #23 was patted onto Noah.  Our special number symbolizing Austin.  As he always does, Austin was sending hugs from Heaven, letting all of us know he would also be there this season, cheering from above in the best seats in the house.

Joy in the Sky

It was an easy choice to set up my space by the large, three panel window in the hotel.  The cushy lounge chair was much more appealing than a stuffy, boring brown desk.  Besides, I prefer a pillow to hold my laptop any day over wood. 

And who could resist sunshine, airplanes, and a free fish to keep me company?

Having traveled to Nashville a day earlier than planned, it meant I would spend extra time alone in the hotel.  Tim's work conference "magically" worked out to be the same week as his surgery consult.  One might think it a nice coincidence that the day before our early am doctor appointment, he was needed in Nashville for work, which allowed us to stay the night.  I tend to believe in a higher power though and know that it's just another sign of God's continual watch care over us.

...Like the happy little check that appeared in our mailbox days before this unexpected trip, a payment from an accident policy that had happened months before.  Who knew Noah's broken finger would end up being a blessing?  We've joked with him that we didn't realize what assets his digits would be, but he's not too willing to repeat the process just to help our pocketbook!

The downtime had perks and low points.  It gave me quiet to get a few things accomplished, yet it also was an open invitation to sit and worry about Tim's appointment.  Whenever worry would peek it's ugly head in, I'd counter it with prayers and a glance out the window. 

This hotel literally sat at the end of the airport runway, so plane gazing was an easy and free activity.  I found myself daydreaming about the passengers in the giant vessels as they flew overhead.  Was it someone's first flight?  Honeymooners?  What exotic location was that plane's destination? 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a smaller figure soaring down the runway.  It was playing with the planes, following the same path, wings spread wide.  Flying the length of road with strong and graceful movements, it would break at the end to loop and dive, almost as if showing off to the planes.  I found myself laughing at the sight of this eagle; as much for the playful spirit that it seemed to have, but also because of what (and who) it symbolized. 



this photo doesn't do it justice, as it couldn't zoom, but the wing span was enormous
...as was the joy it brought me


Arriving at just the needed moment to remind me that God has Tim in His hands and - as he always does - He's caring for us. 

Anytime I get a "hello" from Austin, I'm instantly settled, peace-filled.  In this instance, I had to believe it was Austin's way of letting us know all would be ok.  And it was.  Yesterday was God-sent.  From the moment we walked into the office, my burdens seemed lifted.  The kind and gentle face of the doctor immediately put me at ease.  He took his time with us, answered our questions, and best of all, said he could help.  To our great surprise, we learned that help would arrive much quicker than either of us expected. 

"How's this Friday?" the nurse asked at the close of our visit.

As in two days?! I thought....my head reeling, hand on my Iphone to see what our schedules said.  Tim answered before I even had a chance to pull up the calendar with an enthusiastic, "Sounds great!"  At that point, it didn't matter what our To-Do lists contained, my hubby needed relief and yet another gift from above sent us an opening.  A patient had cancelled that same morning, giving us an immediate spot, instead of waiting weeks.  I smiled, thinking of my special eagle. 

While we still have a ways into this journey, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Tomorrow is sure to be a long day, but we're going in prayerful and hopeful that the end of this season of pain is drawing near. 

Knowing how early we'll depart and the hours on the road, it's doubtful a Faithful Friday post will come your way.  I'll leave you with a scripture that's been comforting to my heart during this time. 

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.  - Romans 8:28

...Thank you all for your sweet and loving comments and prayers!

A Tree of Hope

I'm starting to see Austin uses trees to send us messages of love.  It makes sense.  Especially since Austin's Last Gift to us was through a Christmas tree. 

We lost Austin Thanksgiving weekend 2008 and our last day with him was spent decorating the house.  You can click the blue link above to read more about his gift, which included surprising us by putting together the Kid's tree, and in every touching moment of decorating the main tree in our living room.  It brought us such comfort that lonely Christmas season and is what's made us continue those traditions, even when our hearts disagreed.

On Austin's first Heavenly Birthday, we planted a tree in the backyard.  It's planted directly in front of his bedroom window and is in our line of sight when we're in our favorite spot on the deck.  I prayed over this little tree, asking God to let it grow.  I'd hoped it would bring us a bit of peace in the cloud of grief we were in.  As always with Austin, it's surprised us and exceeded our expectations in so many ways.

The tree had stretched to full bloom the week of Austin's 16th birthday.  Perfect timing for our family get-together to celebrate his life.  You can read more here:  2010 - Birthday Blooms.

Last year, my heart was heavy at the thought of losing that little tree.  Winter was hard and I was convinced it wouldn't bloom.  My lack of faith, I'd already contemplated how I could replace it with something that would lessen the pain come his birthday.  But again, God showed us how great He is....and reminded us of Austin's Life Anew with Him.

This season, instead of a hard winter, we've had a horrendous summer.  In fact, we really didn't have a spring at all.  Record temperatures and a solid two weeks of a heat wave, caused me to worry again about our little tree.  But just like in Life Anew, that determined tree grew around the decay and shot higher, just in time for July.  Yesterday, after the welcomed rain, I went out onto the deck.  Looking over at Austin's tree, a lump formed in my throat.  Tears, so easily spilled (because yesterday would've been his 18th birthday), found their way falling across my cheeks again. 

Tiny red buds were beginning to form, as if to say,

"Hello, Mom.  I am here.  Love you, Austin."

**Go back and compare the tiny sprout in Life Anew to the one above,
just one year later.  Wow.

- - - - -

And when great souls die,

after a period peace blooms,

slowly and always irregularly.

Spaces fill with a kind of

soothing electric vibration.

Our senses, restored, never

to be the same, whisper to us.

They existed. They existed.

We can be.

Be and be better.

For they existed.”

― Maya Angelou (When Great Trees Fall)

Butterfly to Eagle

My boy is sending me eagles.  By the dozens. 

In the past month, I've seen more eagles than maybe my entire life.  They're literally in the sky every time I glance up.  Every time it's like Austin is smiling down and I'm filled with a sense of peace. 
I think Austin is sending me a message that he's an eagle now.

Eagles are everywhere...and butterflies seem sparse.  Butterflies have been the way Austin's sent me signs, or hugs from above, since the beginning.  Those butterflies always come at the perfect moment and so often have almost taken my breath away at their timing.  He's even sent me butterflies in snow.

They truly have been little blessings and I'm grateful for every peek we're sent from Heaven.  Especially with losing a child, what you want and yearn for most is just to see them again.  To know they're ok.  To hug them.  Those butterflies have been my hello hug from my sweet boy and lifts my spirits with every flutter of their wings.

I miss not seeing them as much but I'm awestruck at his new way of waving to me.  I say that but then he sent me both at the same time today.  As I'm looking up at a majestic eagle soaring in the sky, I glance down just in time to catch a glimpse of yellow...a happy little butterfly.  I laughed out loud and said, "Yes, Austin, I see you!  And I love & miss you too!"

It's fitting he's sending me eagles now.  His class just graduated...next month would've been his 18th birthday.  Strong, carefree, protecting, peaceful, Heavenward.

A Push From Above...

May is hard. 

This next week will be the most difficult.

In the course of five days, I'll be dealing with the emotions of Mother's Day and graduation.
Giving thanks to God for blessing me with two beautiful boys.  And grieving the loss of my first born.  Celebrating the milestone of my youngest leaving elementary school.  Heartbroken because my oldest is no longer with us; he cannot walk the line to receive his high diploma.  So many emotions...

Yesterday I was in a store and was overwhelmed with the signs of the season.  Happy cards and gifts of celebration for those two special days. 

But Mother's Day just isn't the same when you've lost a child.  I'll spend the day holding my baby, who's taller than me, and soaking up every moment I can with him.  But I'll also spend it holding my oldest, now gone from this world, in my heart. 

Talk of graduation is all around me.  I can't escape it.  It's in my office.  It's on the shelves of stores.  It's on Facebook and email, on the radio, and everywhere I seem to be.  I should be part of that celebration.  We should be sending invitations and planning a party for Austin's big day.  And the knowledge that we can't is sometimes more than I can bear.

Yesterday, I wanted to leave the store angry,or at least in tears.  But something whispered...Someone tugged at my heart, much like he used to tug on my sleeve.  He pushed me gently.

I left the store with a smile - and a mission.

Probably due mostly to the emotions of the season, I've waivered on continuining the scholarship fund we formed in Austin's memory.  For some reason, I linked the success of the program to the number of applicants we'd received each year.  I don't know why that mattered.

I was reminded of a favorite story....

The Starfish Story

Original Story by: Loren Eisley

 One day a man was walking along the beach when he noticed
a boy picking something up
 and gently throwing it into the ocean.

Approaching the boy, he asked, What are you doing?

The youth replied, Throwing starfish back into the ocean. The surf is up and the tide is going out. 
If I don't throw them back, they'll die.

Son, the man said, don't you realize there are miles and miles of beach and hundreds of starfish? You can't make a difference!

After listening politely, the boy bent down,
picked up another starfish,
and threw it back into the surf. 
Then, smiling at the man, he said,
"I made a difference for that one."

Austin's Legacy certainly has made a difference in the lives of four amazing young women.  And he will continue to shine down on us and through us to keep changing lives.

I can't send out invitations to his graduation this week, but I can raise money for this legacy in his memory.  As is the practice when receiving an invitation, money is sent.  A gift to congratulate the graduate.  Instead, I'm asking that gifts be made in Austin's memory to the legacy he left behind.

Will you consider sending a gift today?

Special Signs & Scholarships

It seems very fitting that we selected the winners for the scholarship fund started in our son's memory on the cusp of Volunteer Appreciation Week.  The Austin's Legacy Scholarship's main criteria is volunteerism and is rooted in the scripture,
1 Timothy 4:12.

Austin will always be known for his giving spirit and helping hands.  He loved to volunteer and jumped in enthusiastically at any opportunity.  As is etched on his stone, He lived a lifetime in his fourteen short years on this Earth.  Giving back, making a difference, and being an example for others is the legacy Austin left behind.

This would've been Austin's graduating year and so we decided early on to award multiple scholarships.  That decision would prove helpful, as our committee had a difficult decision between several excellent candidates.  In the end, we were able to recognize three outstanding young women.  We'll present their awards, totaling $1800, on May 1.

Of course Austin's spirit filled our home, as we met to make the decision.  The goose bump moment came in selecting our top recipient.  Each member of the committee reviewed one application at a time, scoring them at the end.  Once finished, we tallied their totals to find the average score and discussed top candidates.  As the group talked, and I calculated, my eyes filled with tears on our first choice.

Her total was 23.  Austin's favorite number, proudly displayed on every jersey he ever wore, and something he uses often to send us signs.  I sat there stunned, tearful, and very thankful that Austin could be a part of our selection.  What I hadn't shared with the group, until after we chose her, was that she and Austin were friends.  They grew up together, attended the same church, and sat beside each other every year in band.  I think everyone at the table was inspired and felt hugged by our sweet boy, as we left the table.

In a season that has so many difficult moments...wishing for the memories that will never be, yesterday was heaven sent.  Our family feels beyond blessed to share Austin's Legacy with three very deserving ladies.  And we know he looks down proudly on it all.

Faithful Friday: Season of Singing

See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone.

Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come,

the cooing of doves is heard in our land.
Song of Songs 2:11-12

Spring has sprung!  I've been transfixed this week at how quickly the earth is awakening.  It seemed like overnight my pear trees changed from blossoms to bright green leaves.  The scent of wild onions and freshly cut grass envelop our neighborhood.  Everywhere I look, color is bursting forth.    It is truly a "season of singing!"

Of course, one of my favorites about spring is that the first butterflies of the season are happily fluttering by.  Butterflies have been very special and symbolic to me, since losing our son Austin.  Actually it is a symbol of Austin for many of my family and friends now.

My little yellow butterfly sends us these tiny messages, to let us know he's near. Those butterflies seem to float around at just the needed moments, whether it is a quick hello or a goose bump moment with perfect timing.  Spring brings us the promise that Austin is in a better place, yet always close by.

The spring season floods our memories of Austin, complete with days at the ball field and mowing.  It was his favorite time of year and so there are many moments we find ourselves longing to have him a part of the season's activities. 

Spring can be hard to face in child loss.  The sunshiny days don't always match our grieving hearts.  But I believe in the promise of Spring and that it is a symbol of our life anew in Heaven.  ...Where skies are always blue, birds are always singing, every beautiful display of God's work is filled with new life and color; it is where we are reborn.  And until we're connected there again, my happy little butterfly is but a glimpse of what awaits.

A Date and a Sign

January means a new calendar.  A new year...opportunities, anniversaries, plans, hopes and dreams.  For a mom, it also means organization.  My calendar keeps me sane - juggling work, home, school, church, and all the in-betweens. 

I've used the same type of calendar at home for several years.  Purchasing one each book fair at Noah's school, it held large empty spaces across the top for me to write in our names.  This allowed everyone a section on each day, so I could keep track of who does what and goes where when.  Unfortunately, I missed this year's book fair, and thus, did not buy my annual calendar.

2012 arrived and my wall was bare.  I was on the hunt.  Although I couldn't find my typical purchase, I did find a substitute.  Though a little smaller, it seemed to have the space I was looking for.  Instead of across the top, there were slots on the side for our names.  Pulling off the shrink wrap and grabbing a handful of multi-colored sharpies, I sat down with my electronic calendar to help fill in the blanks. 

Writing in the names each year has been hard since losing Austin.  As a mom, you are used to writing the names of your family and for so long we were Tim, Heather, Austin and Noah.  On gift tags, I even abbreviated it "THAN" and everyone knew who it was.  Calendars are also difficult because of yearly reminders - his birthday and angel-versary but also all the milestones of 2012 that Austin won't get to be a part of.

As I flipped to July, I braved my heart and readied myself to fill the space on July 8 and write in Austin's birthday.  Goosebumps covered my arms and I felt a hug from above when I noticed the picture on that exact day.  A butterfly.  And not just on the 8th but all over July's page.  It was just another sweet, heartwarming, soul-soothing sign from above.  Austin is ever present in our lives and never ceases to amaze me by how he sends us hugs and love....all on the wings of a butterfly.

Sweet Signs

Today I'm thankful for church, how when gathered even strangers become family...and I'm especially thankful to have my momma next to me in the pew!

We visited a new church this weekend to support my stepdad's side of the family.  His brother has started a new church, "A Place Called Hope" in Beaver Dam.  Last Sunday, we went because it was the opening day for the church, but also just two days after losing Dallas.  As it was Jeff's first sermon and having just lost his dad, we felt he needed as much love and warmth in the pews that the church could hold. 

This Sunday, I went back knowing my mom planned to return.  It was such a pleasure to sit with her today.  I grew up in church, though Mom didn't often attend.  I'm thankful that she encouraged us to go as kids, even if she wasn't ready at the time.  To see her going now, fills me with joy.  In fact, it seemed my soul was dancing as we sung together in the pew.  That's what we should hope for most in this life...to know that those we love will be with us in Heaven someday.

It's a tremendous comfort to us knowing that is where Austin is now.  Selfish as it is for us to want him still here, we know that he could be in no better place.  I'm a big believer that those who've passed can send us signs, if we open ourselves up to seeing them.  And the signs Austin sends us, at just the needed moments reassure me that he is at peace, yet watching over us always.  As I've shared before in many posts, he usually sends us a yellow butterfly.

Last night as I was leaving the photo shoot, Austin was on my mind.  Having photographed happy families all day, my eyes welled with tears, knowing our Christmas cards will always have an open spot, much like our hearts.  As I pulled the door closed, something yellow fluttered by my hand.  Of course, I was bawling by the time I made it to the truck, but they were happy tears, as I could feel the hugs of my sweet boy all the way home.  Then, today during the sermon, Jeff spoke of the feelings you have after you've been saved - how you notice sunsets and leaves more than you ever did before.  He told a story of a brilliant blue and green butterfly that flew past his car one day and how short the life of a butterfly is, how he could be the only one to see it live.  And he said, "How awesome is it that God could've sent that butterfly just for me?"

Another surprising sign today came from my Grandpa Coons.  I had him on my mind all morning for some reason.  We were joking about his "JOY" story this morning, when for some reason Tim started singing, "Joy to the World" on the way to church.  Once there, the hymns we sang reminded me so much of my childhood and growing up with him in the pulpit. 

I had my heart on hearing "I'll Fly Away" (one of Grandpa's favorites)  and as they were taking requests from the pews, I'd whispered to Tim to say #333.  Noah wasn't paying attention, or even where he could've heard me say this, but a few minutes later he leaned over to me and said, "If they ask for another song, say #333."  I sat there stunned, hearing Tim call it out on my other side, and then standing to sing with the congregation.  To my knowledge, Noah has never heard of this song.  He didn't have a hymnal in his hands or have any reason to say those numbers.  I don't know any other explanation than it was a hug from my Grandpa.  There was a sweet spirit in the church and I could picture him smiling down and joining in the song.

Who can say how those sweet signs come to us but I'm very grateful they do.  Each one, always unexpected, but at the most perfect moments, hug my heart and my soul.

Signs from Above

I'm still covered in goosebumps when I think about all the signs Austin has sent us this week.  He must know that while this season provides hope, it is also a difficult reminder of his absence.  As the grass begins to grow, I think of him and how excited he would be to start another mowing season.  When I pass a ballpark, I'm reminded of the countless hours we spent on the bleachers cheering for our #23.  The sounds of other children riding their bikes around the neighborhood brings back all the memories, both good and horrible, of the many trips he made on his.  Spring is a constant reminder of our sweet boy, of the amazing fourteen years we had with him, and of the palpable loss we still feel.

The number #23 seems to be visible everywhere I look these days.  That number always comforts me, as it instantly makes me think of Austin.  I see the number every morning on may way into work, as a road sign indicates it is 23 miles to Owensboro.  It's my daily hello from him.  I'm always awestruck though when the number comes to me unexpectedly. 

Yesterday I posted about our first meal outdoors.  It was wonderful and during the meal I even started to comment, "This couldn't be any...." and I paused, painfully aware that it could indeed be better, if Austin were still here.  So, I changed mid sentence to "any better weather for this."  The empty chair across from me on the deck was another indication of him missing.  I shrugged it off, trying very hard to stay in the present and enjoy the moment with Tim and Noah.  Coming inside, I paused at the computer to update the Joyfulchallenge message on Facebook for the day, and noticed that it was up to 23 fans.  The last time I remember looking, it was at 17, so the jump to that exact number just seemed like a message that night, letting me know he was in fact there.

I replaced Austin's flowers this week at his grave.  It's an odd activity, something I never imagined doing.  While I enjoy being the one to arrange them, feeling like it's a gift I can give to him, it certainly isn't a hobby I wanted to have.  As I prepared to leave, I asked Noah if he wanted to come along.  Visiting Austin's grave has never been something that brings me a lot of comfort so I've never forced it on Noah.  I let him go when he wants and we stay as little or as long as he wants.  Thinking about it for several minutes, I soon found him by my side, ready to go with both vases in his hands.

Once there, I busied myself by tidying up and gave Noah time alone while repositioning flowers on his Mamaw June's grave, just a few plots down.  It had been awhile since he'd been and I know all too well the wave of emotions that takes over.  Feeling like he needed me, I joined him back at the bench and just rested my hand on his back.  In that moment a large and beautiful eagle appeared above us.  It was so close that I could see the details on his feathers.  As he glided in the winds directly above our heads we were both frozen and speechless.  When the majestic bird floated away, I whispered, "and they will soar like wings on eagles" because it just came out of me.  A sense of peace washed over both us.  It was amazing.

Then, yesterday was our first family outing of the season.  Although my mom's side visits the zoo at least once a year together, this was a new zoo for our group.  We went to Kentucky Down Under and closed the day with a picnic in the soft spring grass.  Of course, Austin was on my mind, and though we move forward, a grieving parent never fully moves on.  It hurts to do activities without him, especially those you know he would've enjoyed.  Tim and I were the first to pay and so we were also the first to enter the park. 

As soon as we opened the door to step outside, a tiny yellow butterfly flittered across my path.  I paused, unsure, not expecting to see these, now favorite creatures of mine, so soon in the season.  Catching a glimpse of it again confirmed, as it floated up the hill almost leading the way to the path we would take.  Choking back tears I knew it was Austin's way of letting me know he was there, as he's always present when our family gathers together.  It was just the needed boost to get me through that day.

I would've been satisfied with just the small but powerful sign yesterday.  I never ask for signs but am always overcome with joy, and grateful, when I receive them.  We left the zoo much later than expected and everyone was past starving as we walked to our vehicles.  Discussing places to have a picnic, I noticed the grassy sides of the lot and suggested we just eat there.  Noah and his cousin Larry took off running, looking for the shadiest spot as I lingered behind.  Through lack of communication, the rest of our group drove to other side.

Just as I was about to start the walk across the parking lot to join them, Noah spoke.  "Mom, there's a huge yellow butterfly beside you!"  Turning my head, I saw the vibrant yellow and black monarch, nearly on my shoulder.  It hovered around me for a moment, actually long enough for me to reach out in an attempt to touch it, before it flittered away.  But that precious moment was long enough and yet another sign from Austin letting me know he'd been with us all day.  It was an incredible ending to a wonderful time out with the family.