Thoughtful Thursday ... What Am I Missing?

When my daughter Hannah was little, she had a friend named Nicole.  Nicole was a curly-headed girl with round-framed glasses, and the two of them were in AWANA Cubbies together.  They had a blast learning Bible verses, eating cookies and drinking red Kool-Aid, and hopping and jumping around the room as they belted out the Cubbies theme song together.

Nicole is all grown up now, and is serving the Lord as a youth minister in California.  She still has the same curly hair and (not as round) glasses, and it's been a joy to watch her grow up from afar via Facebook.

Even as I write that, I must confess that there's a tug in my heart ... How I wish I could have seen Hannah grow up like Nicole has!  What would she be like as an almost 24-year-old woman?  There's always that little (sometimes not-so-little) twist of pain as I see Hannah's contemporaries serving the Lord, getting married, having babies.  But at the same time, I am thankful when I see her friends doing well.

Nicole lost her dad a couple of years ago, and she recently shared on Facebook about how she was struggling with the difficult memories associated with his Heaven-going.  But then she went on to say that she had heard a speaker online (who I later discovered was Beth Moore) sharing the story of an aging father who had lost two children many years previously.  The father was speaking at a family dinner to his remaining family members, saying, "I don't want to miss you because I miss them."  This was very encouraging to Nicole as she has really been missing her dad recently.  She said, "I never ever want to miss an opportunity or another human being because of the loss I have experienced."

Her comments really made me stop and think.

What might I be missing because I miss Hannah?  There's so much!

I don't want to miss my surviving daughter or her husband because I miss Hannah.
I don't want to miss my husband because I miss Hannah.
I don't want to miss sharing an encouraging word with someone because I miss Hannah.
I don't want to miss the joy of spending time with family or friends because I miss Hannah.
I don't want to miss the awe inspired by a beautiful sunset because I miss Hannah.
I don't want to miss an awareness of God's blessings because I miss Hannah.
I don't want to miss the opportunity to express gratitude because I miss Hannah.
I don't want to miss the chance to point someone to Jesus because I miss Hannah.

Yes, I miss Hannah.  Oh, how I miss Hannah.  But if I miss my life because I miss Hannah, the tragedy of her death is compounded.

If the situation were reversed, and I were the one who had died seven years ago instead of her, I would certainly not want her to miss her life missing me.  I would want her to live her life to the fullest, squeezing every moment of joy out of it she could.

And I don't think Hannah would want any less for me.  And I know God doesn't ... Jesus said that he came that we "may have life and have it abundantly" (John 10:10).

So yes, I will miss Hannah ... but by God's grace and through His strength, I will choose not to miss this life He has given me.

Thoughtful Thursday - Good-bye Southside

When we lived in El Dorado, Arkansas, our girls attended a magnificent old school called Southside Elementary.  It was built in 1926, and it was an absolute treasure ... at least to those of us whose children attended there.  It was like a school you might see in an old movie, with gleaming wooden floors and stairs that were literally grooved from the footsteps of countless numbers of children.

It was the kind of school where the janitor always sang in the Christmas program, where the first grade teacher had a genuine dentist chair in her classroom and pulled her students' baby teeth, where veterans were honored and hallways were filled with brightly-colored student artwork.

It's where Bethany's kindergarten teacher wrote on her report card, "I love you more than purple," and where she was disciplined for thumping the little boy sitting behind her in the head.  It's where she played the role of teacher in the end-of-kindergarten performance and a pilgrim in the first grade Thanksgiving play.  It's where she had her Most Embarrassing Moment, and was hiding in the bushes when I came to pick her up after school that day.

It's where Hannah read so many Babysitter's Club books that she broke every Accelerated Reader record there was and where she met her best friend Brittany.  It's where she became involved in Odyssey of the Mind and won so many spelling bees her teacher finally asked her not to participate.  It's where she got stuck in "The Big Toy" on the playground and had to be freed by a team of custodians.

It's where I picked up the girls on the afternoon of 9/11 and wondered how to tell them that the world had forever changed.

Southside officially closed its doors at the end of Bethany's second grade year and Hannah's fifth grade year.  There was an assembly where all of us Southside families sang, "Good-bye, Southside," and shed lots of tears.  But the building remained standing, and there was talk of making it into something else ... maybe a cultural center or something.  And after we moved, every time we visited El Dorado, we would take time to drive through that part of town, just to see the old building and reminisce fondly.  It was that kind of school.

Yesterday, Hannah's friend Brittany posted this picture on Facebook and my heart just sank...

It's just a school.  Just a dilapidated old building in a blighted neighborhood.

So much has changed since Hannah went to Heaven seven years ago this month.  We now live in a different house and drive new vehicles.  We no longer have the jobs we had when she was here, and we no longer have our dog.  Bethany is married and no longer lives at home.  Our focus in life is completely different than it was seven years ago.  We are involved in a type of ministry we would never have dreamed we would need ourselves back when our girls were students at Southside and all was right in the world.

It's just an old school building ... but it's another physical tie to Hannah that's now gone.  And that makes me a little melancholy on this thoughtful Thursday.

I'm so thankful that this world is not all there is, and that I'm tied to Hannah by an indestructible cord of love that will last for all eternity.  What a treasure I have in Heaven!  And that's a tremendous comfort while I'm waiting.

"Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."  Matthew 6:19-21 ESV

"For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens."  II Corinthians 5:1 ESV

Thoughtful Thursday - Broken Pieces

I had the pleasure of spending last week at the beach in Navarre, Florida, with my Mom and her friend, Carol.  I've never had the opportunity to go on a "girls trip" like this with my Mom, so it was a real blessing to be able to go.

The weather was not the greatest while we were there.  In fact, it rained so hard on Tuesday that they had to close down the elevators because the shafts were flooding.  Being sixteen floors up, we were grateful that we were safe and dry inside when that call was made!

Even though the weather wasn't ideal most of the time, I was able to get in several good walks on the beach.  Navarre is known for its beautiful seashells, and I have a friend who has an amazing collection of shells from there, so I kept my eyes open for some good ones.

But as I walked along the edge of the chilly waves, with my toes in the sand and the seagulls skittering along ahead of me, searching for perfect shells, I remembered something one of our While We're Waiting moms said at a support group meeting a couple of years ago.  She and her husband had taken their first trip to the beach since the death of her 23-year-old son, and she talked about how she was walking on the beach, looking for shells, much like I was doing.  But here's what she said that struck me.  She said, "I found myself drawn to the broken shells. And I realized that as long as I remember to stay broken, God can still use me."  When she said this, it made such an impression on me that I wrote it down.

We all agreed at that evening that we, as parents who have lost children, are broken.  But we also agreed that our very brokenness may be just what God wants to use for His glory.  Our lives may not have turned out the way we thought they would ... far from it ... but God is faithful to take those broken pieces and make a new creation out of us ... something more beautiful and more useful for His Kingdom than we ever dreamed.

The prophet Jeremiah was once sent by God to observe a potter working at his wheel.  Here's what Jeremiah 18:1-4 (ESV) says about that experience.

"The word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord:  'Arise, and go down to the potter's house, and there I will let you hear my words.'  So I went down to the potter's house, and there he was working at his wheel. And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter's hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do."

The potter was working hard at making a vessel of clay when something happened and the clay was "spoiled" ... broken, if you will.  But the potter didn't declare it useless and throw it away.  He reworked it, and made a new, different vessel out of it, something that was useful ... something that he saw as good, maybe even better than what he had started to make.  God can do that with us, too, as long as we stay pliable and are willing to let Him rework us as seems good to Him.

As I thought back to our discussion that evening, I decided to abandon my search for those "perfect" shells.  I came home with a Ziploc bag full of broken pieces, and I'm keeping a few of them my desk to remind myself that God is in the business of making something beautiful out of the broken.

"The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise."  Psalm 51:17 (ESV)

Thoughtful Thursday -- How Many More Minutes?

Image from www.skitterphoto.com

"How many more minutes?"

We used to hear that question a lot from our little girls riding to Grandma and Grandpa's house in the back seat of the car.

We would try to explain how much time remained in our trip in terms they could understand:  "It's two Rugrats shows and a Barney" meant that we were still an hour away.

They would settle in, satisfied, ready to be patient a little bit longer, knowing that the joy of getting to their grandparents' house was awaiting them at the end of the journey.

We no longer have little girls riding in the back seat of our car.  One of those little girls is in Heaven, and the other is happily married and I look forward to the day that she is driving her little ones to Grandma and Grandpa's house!

So now it's not our kids who are asking, "How many more minutes?"

It's us.

How long, O Lord, until we see our Hannah again?  How many more minutes (hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades) until we get to Heaven?

It's hard to be patient when you're looking forward to a time of great joy, isn't it?  It can seem like the time just crawls by.

We found that those road trips went by faster when the girls had something to do to keep them busy while they were waiting.  We played the ABC game, sometimes fighting over who got to claim the "Q" in "Antique"; we sang songs; we listened to audio books.  Anything to help the time pass ... and it worked!

The theme verse for the While We're Waiting ministry to bereaved parents is Romans 8:25:  "But if we hope for what we do not see, we eagerly wait for it with perseverance."

A ministry consultant once told us that we needed to change the name of the ministry.  He said, "It sounds like you're kicked back in a recliner, doing nothing, just waiting to get to Heaven."

Obviously, we didn't follow his advice ... because nothing could be further from the truth.  We are waiting eagerly ... persevering until that day.  Our desire is to keep busy doing what God has for us to do until this particular road trip is over.  Our goal is to live well (by God's grace alone) while we're waiting.  Nothing will make the time pass more quickly than that!

And not only does the time pass more quickly ... the trip has been made so much richer by the fellow travelers we've met along the way.

"How many more minutes?"

I asked myself this question again the other day, but in an entirely different context.  For Valentine's Day, my husband gave me a gift certificate for a 55-minute massage, and I've saved it all this time, waiting for just the right time to use it.  I finally decided there would never be a "perfect" time, so last Friday I hopped in the car and drove to the spa.

The massage therapist began to do her magic and it was Ahhhhh, so nice.  But pretty soon I started thinking, "I wonder how many minutes I have left.  I had 55 when I started ... so maybe now I have 42, or 29, or what if I only have 7?  I don't want this to be over yet!"  Before I knew it, I was no longer enjoying the massage, because I was too busy thinking about how many more minutes I had left, and wishing there were more.  I had to repeatedly remind myself to enjoy the moment I was in.

Isn't it awesome to know that when we get to Heaven, we'll never again have to ask "How many more minutes"?  The joys of Heaven will never end.  We'll never have to worry about running out of time.  No matter how many minutes pass, there will still be infinitely more to come.  Every mile of this road trip we're on will be redeemed!

"How long, O Lord, will you forget me forever?  How long will you hide your face from me?  How long must I wrestle with my thoughts day after day and have sorrow in my heart?  How long will my enemy triumph over me ... But I trust in Your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.  I will sing the Lord's praise, for he has been good to me."  Psalm 13:1b-2; 5-6

Thoughtful Thursday -- Leaving Our Nets Behind

Photo from www.warriorshepherd.com

One thing I've really enjoyed about the somewhat slower pace of life this summer is the ability to spend some un-rushed time in God's Word each morning.  Not that I couldn't or shouldn't do that every day, no matter how busy life is ... but I'm just keeping it real here.  Having this time in the morning is the thing I think I'm going to appreciate most about not having to run off to work each day when school starts back this year.

I use Hannah's Bible for my reading time each morning.  There's just something so special about using her Bible.  It's full of her doodling, favorite Scriptures, and notes.  Here's a peek inside ...

Of course, the irony of her using the word "healthy" as part of this acrostic is not lost on me.  And her describing herself as "athletic" makes me giggle.  Her favorite class was Spanish, thus the "alegre", which means happy or cheerful ... and that truly was our girl (with a little nosiness thrown in).

Anyway, earlier this week I was reading in Matthew chapter 4, and something I've probably read a hundred times jumped out at me in a whole new way.  (Isn't it cool when God does that?)

This is what it says, starting in verse 18 and going through verse 22:

"As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew.  They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen.  "Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will send you out to fish for people."  At once they left their nets and followed him.  Going on from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John.  They were in a boat with their father Zebedee, preparing their nets.  Jesus called them, and immediately they left the boat and their father and followed him."

At once they left their nets.

Immediately they left the boat.

They just left.

These guys made their living as fishermen.  My guess would be that that was the only life they had ever really known.  And yet, when Jesus called them, they left all that behind ... even the tools of their trade.  They somehow knew that everything was going to be different from now on.  A profound change had taken place, changing the very trajectory of their lives.

Reading this story made me think of how our lives have changed over the past seven years.

Hannah's diagnosis with cancer in February of 2008 was the first indication that we were about to be asked to drop our nets.  As a year passed in a bewildering whirl of radiation treatments and varying chemotherapy regimens, we found ourselves being called to climb out of the boat.  And when she left us for Heaven in February of 2009, it was time to let go of those fishing implements for good.

Now I hope you don't have the idea that we dropped those things willingly, like I think the disciples did.  We fought with everything we had to hold on to the life we had known since Hannah was born seventeen years before that.  We pursued every option available to us to keep her with us ... but our sovereign and loving God had another plan ... and we had to let her go.

Oh, how I would love to get back into the boat and pick up my nets as if nothing had ever changed!  What I would give to go back to the way things used to be, before I knew that teenagers got cancer and died.  If I could cross my arms, blink and nod like Barbara Eden used to do, I would do it in the space of a heartbeat.

But when God called us to drop our nets and leave our boat behind, it was not a temporary gig.  He did not intend for us to return to life as we knew it.  Not that He wanted us to forget our life with Hannah ... far from it!  Those memories are priceless gifts from Him!  No, He wants us to use those experiences to know Him and serve Him in a more authentic way.

Even after nearly 6 1/2 years, we are still learning what that looks like.  Thankfully, He is patient with us, and understands when we try to pick up those nets again.

Lord, help us to live well while we're waiting.

Thoughtful Thursday -- Stealing My Stuff Again

Photo from the Huffington Post

Brad and I went to the Wednesday evening service at our church last night, and heard a wonderful message from our associate pastor based on
I Thessalonians 5:16-18.

That passage is actually a series of three commands.

Rejoice always.

Pray without ceasing.

Give thanks in all circumstances.

Three things that a person who is grieving can find very hard to do.  Yet these three things must be pretty important because verse 18 concludes by saying, "for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."

As he shared his thoughts from this passage, he asked us, "If you came home one evening and there were robbers at your house, carrying your TV, your couch, and all your other belongings out the front door ... would you just stand there and watch?  Would you let them carry off everything you own without trying to stop them?"

I thought to myself, "Of course not!  That would be crazy!"

Here was his point ...

Of course we wouldn't stand idly by while thieves carried off all our possessions.

Yet we allow Satan free rein to do just that in our hearts.  Sometimes we even unlock the windows and doors and escort him in!  We show him around and allow him to take whatever he
wants ...

Our peace

Our joy

Our hope

Our security

Our confidence in our relationship with God

The list goes on and on.

So much of the battle in grief is spiritual in nature.  As the years have passed, I've found that the times I really find myself in a deep funk about Hannah's death, it's because I've allowed Satan to get a foothold in my head and in my heart, and he's stealing my stuff again.  Usually he's not brazen enough to carry it out the front
door ... He starts slipping it out the windows and through the attic and down into the basement and I don't even notice I'm letting him do it until I'm gasping for breath and wondering what happened.

It's at times like this that I have to remember what I know ...

God is good, and He is for me  (Nahum 1:7).

He knew the number of Hannah's days before she was born, and His plan for her was fulfilled in the number of days He gave her  (Psalm 139:15-16).

I have not been abandoned by God, nor will I be destroyed by my circumstances (2 Corinthians 4:8-9).

Weeping will not last forever ... there is joy coming  (Psalm 30:5b).

He is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit  (Psalm 34:18).

The years I have spent separated from Hannah will be restored  (Joel 2:25).

God is in control, even when it feels like everything is spinning out of control  (Isaiah 46:9-10).

I have an eternal home in Heaven  (2 Corinthians 5:1).

God loves me with an everlasting love  (Jeremiah 31:3).

One young mom who came to our last While We're Waiting Weekend for Bereaved Parents said she had made a practice of recording in her journal the lies Satan was telling her ... and then refuting each of them in writing on the next page.  What a great idea!  No way was he gonna steal her stuff!

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly."  John 10:10

If you have experienced the death of a child, please check out the While We're Waiting ministry.

Thoughtful Thursday -- Shutting the Door Behind Us

We said we'd never do it again.  Move, that is.

When we moved into our home in a small community in west central Arkansas ten years ago, we really thought that could be our last move.

Our girls were doing well in eighth grade and fifth grade, my husband was the high school principal, and I was working part-time for the local school district and running the girls to and from church and school events.  We loved our home and our little community.  Life was idyllic.

Then, about three years into our time there, our 16-year-old daughter, Hannah, was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer.  She battled it bravely for a year, and went to Heaven in February of 2009.  Life at that point changed forever.

Our perspective on absolutely everything changed.  Moving up the career ladder?  Making more money so we could have bigger and better things?  Worrying about the small stuff in life?  None of that mattered anymore.

There's nothing like watching your child battle cancer with God-given grace and faithfulness to bring you to your knees and show you what's really important in life.

And what's important is following God in obedience ... wherever He might lead you.

For about a year now, He's been leading us to sell our home, leave our little community, and follow Him.  A couple of months ago, He brought us some buyers ... special folks who will love this house as much as we have, and raise their family there.  He's provided us with a cute little rental house in Hot Springs until He shows us what the next step will be.  So we sold some stuff, stored some more stuff, and loaded the rest of the stuff up in trailers and the backs of pick-up trucks, and we moved.

Brad and I went back one final time to make sure we hadn't forgotten anything and to say good-bye to this house where so many good memories (and a few bad ones) were made.

It's strange to be in a house that doesn't have a stick of furniture in it.  It feels so much larger than it did before, and every footstep echoes.

It just feels so ... empty.

Our girls are all grown up now.  Hannah is in Heaven and doing amazing things beyond anything I can imagine.  Bethany is married and she and her husband are loving life with their canine "baby", Lady.

Life moves on, and that's a good thing.  Not always easy, but good.

We leave things behind, but the memories come with us.

As we prepared to leave for the last time, Brad put his arm around me and reminded me that the next home where we'll all four be together will be in Heaven.

And with that, we shut the door behind us and stepped into our next adventure.

"In my Father's house are many rooms.  If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?  And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also."  ~Jesus, John 14:2-3

Thoughtful Thursday ... Overcoming Life

About six weeks after Hannah went to Heaven, I attended my first (and nearly my last!) grief support group meeting. I drove to a town about a hour away for this meeting … and I was scared to death. We sat in a circle, and our first task was to go around the room and share our stories. By the time it came around to me, all I could do was choke out, “Pass.” I literally could not speak the words aloud that my daughter had died.

I left that meeting more depressed than I was when I arrived, and here’s why. A few (not all) of those people, as they shared their stories, said something similar to this … “It’s been ten years since my child died, and it has never gotten any better,” or “It hurts just as much today as it did the day my child died.” Anybody ever heard someone say something like that?  I was so upset all the way home … How was I possibly going to live for the rest of my life this way?  If it wasn’t going to get any better, Brad might as well just bury me now, because I was done.

But deep inside, deep down in my spirit, I knew that wasn’t true. I knew that God was a good God and that He would never leave me stuck where I was in this pit of grief.

He tells us in His Word that He came to give us life, and life more abundantly (John 10:10).

John Chapter 5 tells the story of a man in need of healing from the Lord. It’s familiar to many of us. Let’s pick up the story in Verse 2:

“Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate, a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades. In these lay a multitude of invalids – blind, lame, and paralyzed. One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, He said to him, ‘Do you want to be healed?’”

Now, that’s a strange question, isn’t it? Of course he wanted to be healed … he’d been sick (he hadn’t gotten better) for 38 years!

“The sick man answered him, ‘Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.’”

So yes, he did want to be healed. But no matter how hard he tried, he’d been unable to get better on his own. He didn’t have anyone who could help him, and he couldn’t do it himself. He had probably given up hope of ever getting better.

But what did Jesus say?

“Jesus said to him, ‘Get up, take up your bed, and walk.’ And at once the man was healed and he took up his bed and walked.”

Jesus didn’t say, “Here, I’ll help you get into the water.”

He didn’t say, “Well, good luck to you, keep trying, and maybe someday you’ll make it.”

He didn’t say, “Oh well, it is what it is … you need to learn to live with it.”

He didn't say, "Why don't you just get over it already?"

Instead, He told the man to do the impossible. He asked the man to take an action that he was clearly incapable of doing on his own. But in that moment, He gave the man the ability to do it.

He also told him to take up his bed, indicating that he wasn’t going to need it anymore. He wasn’t going back to THAT place again.

Then He told the man to walk, clearly indicating that he was to move forward from there.

Isn’t that amazing? Can you see how that relates to us, lying helpless on our beds of grief? He is reaching out His hand, saying, “Do you want to be healed?”

Sometimes there’s a measure of comfort in staying where we are. We become familiar with the pain … it becomes like a friend to us … and we feel that it keeps us connected to our child. And in a sense, it does. But here’s a quote from Nancy Guthrie that I think is so true … “Your love for your child is not defined by the level of your ongoing misery.”

Of course, we will always have a place inside that hurts deeply. We will miss our children until the day we are reunited with them in Heaven. But must we live in misery for the rest of our lives? I don’t believe that’s what God wants for any of us.

But we must take the initiative. In Matthew 12:13, Jesus tells the man with the withered hand to “Stretch out your hand.” When he did so, his hand was healed. But he had to take the initiative to stretch out his hand.

Oswald Chambers, in “My Utmost for His Highest”, says, “The remarkable thing about spiritual initiative is that the life and power comes after we get up and get going. God does not give us overcoming life – He gives us life as we overcome.”

Thank You, Lord, for the strength to overcome!

Throwback Thursday -- My Bereaved Parent Family

Another "Throwback Thursday" post today ... This one written on September 11, 2010, just after we attended the Respite Retreat for bereaved parents hosted by David and Nancy Guthrie.  I will forever be grateful for that weekend, and the time we spent with those couples.  Meeting all those folks and hearing their stories and experiences as bereaved parents gave me a much greater understanding of the path my life was now on, and helped me see that there was still life to be lived here on earth, and that it could be full and abundant.

One of the things that was so striking to me about the weekend was how much we parents, who came from ten different states and Canada, had in common.  And how, almost five years later, those commonalities have been confirmed again and again as we've met hundreds of bereaved parents through our While We're Waiting events.  This post describes some of those things we share.  As much as I would gladly renounce my membership in this club, I have come to love my bereaved parent family.


About seventeen years ago, I was attending one of those infamous Southern Baptist committee meetings at our church in Fort Smith, Arkansas. We were engaging in some informal conversation around the table before the meeting actually began, and the pastor asked one attendee a question. She was an older lady, who had been a member of the church for a long time...the pastor knew her quite well. He said, "As a pastor, there's something I've always wondered...What is the most painful type of loss someone can endure? I know that in your lifetime, you have lost your parents, your husband, some of your brothers and sisters, and a daughter. Which loss was the most difficult for you?" The dear woman replied with shining eyes, "Oh, Pastor...the loss of my daughter was by far the greatest loss I ever experienced. The others were painful, but I still grieve the loss of my daughter every day in my heart." And our pastor answered, "That is exactly what I've heard over and over again in all the years of my ministry...that the loss of a child is the most painful loss there is."

I was about 27 years old at that time, with one young daughter and another on the way, and as I heard her response, I thought to myself, "Wow...I hope I never have to face that!" For some reason, that conversation has stuck with me all these years. And from time to time, it comes to my mind, and I wonder about it. Since I haven't experienced any of those other types of losses, I've wondered if what I heard that day is really true.

Last weekend, we spent hours listening to bereaved parents pour out their hearts, both in group meetings, and with us privately. We did our own share of pouring, as well! As I shared in my previous post, we twelve couples came from ten different states and Canada, and our stories of loss were, for the most part, very different. But here are some things that, over the course of the weekend, we discovered we had in common:

--The pain we share is deep, and it is very real. There were parents there whose son lived for only two heartbeats after birth, and parents whose daughter lived to be an adult with a child of her own. There were parents whose child had suffered months or years of illness, and parents whose child's life was gone in one earth-shattering moment. Two couples had lost two children. I still don't know if the conversation I overheard 17 years ago was completely accurate...I really think there are things that could be worse than death when it comes to your children...but the pain and grief I heard and felt last weekend was immense. It didn't matter how old our children were or how we lost them...the pain was deep, and it was real.

--Most of us who were there had come to terms with God's sovereignty in taking our children to Heaven sooner than we would have liked, but as one dad put it, "We reserve the right to protest." While we all agreed that our faith has gotten us through our experiences, nearly all of us have experienced some real spiritual struggles.

--All of us have struggled with feeling "different" or "out of place" like I mentioned a couple of posts back. Our thoughts are different, our outlook is different, our conversation is different. One mom said, "Everyone around us is talking about kindergarten and we want to talk about calculus!" Who has time for small talk and chit-chat, when there are issues of such great importance to discuss? I think that's one reason we enjoyed visiting so much...we spent all our time talking about issues and experiences we felt so passionately about.

--All of us have struggled with getting back into "real life" after the death of our children. People usually don't know what to say to us, or if they should say anything at all. And we're no help...sometimes we want them to talk to us and sometimes we don't! One mom said that they felt like they carried death with them everywhere they went, and it had deeply affected their relationships with others. Oddly enough, the place we all agreed was the most difficult to go back to was church! I think part of that is just the emotion inherent in attending a worship service, but I suspect some of it may be that we seem to feel it necessary to keep up a "front" in church...so that others will think we are just as perfect inside as we appear to be on the outside. I don't know...I'm still pondering that one.

--Strange as it may sound, we've all experienced some degree of memory loss or "brain fog" related to our child's death and the time that's past since then. I thought it was just me, or the fact that I'll be turning 45 in a couple of months, but I guess not. Maybe it's because our thoughts are so consumed with "calculus" all the time...I don't know. I'm just glad to know that I'm not the only one!

--All of the moms felt like they had aged rapidly since the death of their child. All of us described the experience of looking in the mirror and wondering what had happened to us! And not just in appearance...it seems that that extra weight of grief has taken a toll on our bodies as well.

--This may be surprising, but when one dad described their experience of losing their 3 month old baby as 100% terrible and 100% wonderful at the same time, we all murmured in agreement. We all agreed that as awful as losing our children has been, so much good has come from our experiences as well.

--All of us had a strong desire for our children to not be forgotten. Every one of us, in different ways, have sought ways to memorialize our children. I had never thought this would be a big deal for us...we truly believe Hannah's storm was more about God than it ever was about Hannah...but as time goes by, I do find myself wanting to make sure that Hannah's life is not forgotten.

--Finally, we all agreed that we could never survive these experiences without our faith in God. I often heard people at the retreat wondering aloud how people got through things like this without Him. I've said that many, many times myself. And as difficult emotionally as last weekend was, we all left there uplifted, because we all knew we would be seeing our children again. Best of all, we all left knowing that the time we've spent without them here will be redeemed in Heaven someday...every minute will be made up for. And how amazing is that?

Thoughtful Thursday -- Three Priceless Gifts

Get any group of bereaved parents together, and the topic inevitably comes up.

I bet you can guess what it is ... Yep, it's The Things People Say.  Every parent who has lost a child has been hurt (almost always unintentionally) by something that's been said in an effort to comfort them.

Sometimes it's The Things People Don't Say.  Every parent who has lost a child has also been hurt by someone who has avoided them, or who said nothing to them in an effort not to say the wrong thing.

We often discuss this topic at our While We're Waiting events.  In fact, our March WWW support group meeting was focused entirely on this topic.  We all go around and share our horror stories of the "At least you have other children", "Aren't you glad she's in a better place", "I understand how you feel, my dog died last week", and "Don't you think you should be back to normal by now" comments we've heard.  And maybe surprisingly, we laugh about them.  I mean, those poor people .. they just can't help themselves!

After we've talked about the dumb things for awhile, we always try to turn it back to the positive by discussing some of the good things people have said and done for us.  And it's very heartwarming to hear those stories.  There are many, many wonderful people out there who have been the hands and feet of Christ to us.

In light of that, I want to share three "gifts" I recently received ... all from different people, and each one from given without the giver realizing their significance.

1.  A couple of months ago, Brad and I were invited to have dinner in the home of some missionaries who are here in Hot Springs on furlough.  We went to college with this couple, but we've lost touch with them over the years.  Over a yummy Mexican dinner, we discussed lots of things ... their ministry in Canada, our daughter's wedding, their adoption of a beautiful little boy from Africa, my husband's role as a school administrator.  After dessert, we sat down in comfortable chairs in the living room, and they said, "So, tell us about Hannah", and then they settled in and prepared to listen.  What a gift!  You know, we tell Hannah's story all the time, but it's always in the context of a ministry situation ... a retreat, a support group meeting, or from a stage in front of an audience.  Here was a couple who simply wanted to know about Hannah ... who she was, what she liked and disliked, how she dealt with her cancer diagnosis.  What a blessing it was to talk about our girl freely, openly, comfortably, with another couple who just wanted to listen.

2.  A few weeks ago on a Sunday morning, our While We're Waiting team had the opportunity to speak at our home church.  It was wonderful to be able to share our testimonies and the WWW ministry with our church family.  We were able to unveil the plans for the While We're Waiting Refuge for the first time that morning ... something we were very excited about doing.  A few days later we received a note in the mail from a gentleman who is an incredibly faithful card writer and prayer warrior.  The first line of his card said, "Tears and Cheers!" and then he went on to say that he was praying for the four of us and our ministry.  But the "Tears and Cheers" statement is what caught my eye.  He was acknowledging that even though the growth of the WWW ministry is something to cheer about, it comes at a price ... the tears of missing our children.  That recognition was a gift.

3.  The third gift was given on that Sunday morning when we shared at our church.  The invitation had been given (One person gave their life to the Lord!), the offering had been taken, and the service had ended.  We stood around and talked with people for a long time afterward, and finally most folks had headed for the doors.  I began to gather up my things and get prepared to leave, when suddenly a sweet lady approached me, laid her hand on my arm, leaned in close, and gave me a gift.  She quietly said, "I still cry for you."  I was dumbfounded, and all I could think of to say was, "You do?"  She said, "Yes, I still cry for you," and then she slipped away.  Five words.  But, oh, how much that meant to me, to think that after six years ... someone still cries for me.

As I said, I don't think any of these folks recognized how profoundly their statements and actions affected me.  They don't even know how priceless their gifts were.  There's a pretty good chance they will each be reading this blog post, though, so they do now.  So let me take this opportunity to thank you for loving me well.  I will never forget the gifts you gave me.

Thoughtful Thursday -- Feeling Abandoned?

Anyone who grew up in Arkansas in the seventies or eighties probably made at least one trip to Dogpatch USA when they were a kid.  Dogpatch was an amusement park which opened in 1968, and was based on the comic strip Li'l Abner.  It was nestled deep in the woods of northern Arkansas and featured a number of attractions and rides. The developers believed it would rival Disneyland in popularity one day, and though it never quite achieved that status, it drew a pretty good crowd in its heyday.  It featured hillbilly-themed attractions, such as Rotten Ralphie's Rick-O-Shay Rifle Range and a roller coaster called Earthquake McGoon's Brain Rattler. One fun feature was that instead of garbage cans, the park had "trash eaters" -- mechanical pigs and goats that would suck the trash right out of the visitors' hands. To a kid, it was a downright awesome place to spend the day.

Over the years, Dogpatch changed hands several times as it struggled financially.  It finally closed in October of 1993.  Efforts are now being made to revitalize it, but for the most part, it has lain abandoned all these years.

There's something very sad and even eerie about an abandoned amusement park ...

A place that was once known for bringing joy ... now dilapidated and overgrown with weeds and vines.  A place once filled with rambunctious, laughing children ... now quiet and still.  A place where fun family memories were once made ... now just a faded memory itself.

Sigh.

Grief can make us feel that way too.

Like time has marched on and left us behind.

Like we're being choked by weeds and brambles.

Like no one else "gets" us.

Like we've grown old before our time.

Like we'll never have joy again.

Like our opportunity to make good memories is gone forever.

Like even God has abandoned us.

And you know what?  If it was up to us to do life in our own strength, these things would all be true.

But here's the promise from God's Word ...

" ... We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed."  (2 Corinthians 4:7-9)

On my own, I'm a jar of clay ... just like a crumbling, ramshackle attraction at a neglected theme park. But I have a treasure within me ... the power of God.  And because of that power, I can be hard pressed, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; struck down, but not destroyed.  And I will never, ever be abandoned.

All of the things I listed above are feelings.  The truth is that God has not abandoned us, and He will give us strength for each challenge we face.  There is still joy to be found, good memories to be made, and friendships with those who "get" us waiting to be developed.  He won't let us be choked out by briars and nettles if we continue to seek Him.  Life will never leave us behind if we remember that His mercies are new every morning.

And there's no amusement park on earth that can compare to what is awaiting us in Heaven!  What a beautiful hope to cling to on those days when we may be feeling a bit forsaken.

Thoughtful Thursday -- Six Years in Heaven

Thanks to the absolutely beautiful snowfall we had yesterday, I've been able to enjoy a quiet day at home, remembering our girl who went to Heaven six years ago today.  It was a great opportunity to reflect, remember, and revel in the wonderful memories we have with our Hannah Joy.

My overwhelming feeling today at this six year mark is gratitude.  Gratitude that God chose me to be Hannah's mother; gratitude that we had 17 1/2 amazing years with her; gratitude that she is perfectly healed in Heaven today.

I spent the day posting my favorite photos from Hannah's life on my Facebook page.  I tried to post them at regular intervals throughout the day so I wouldn't totally gum up people's newsfeeds with them.  How fun it was to share these pictures and re-live some of my favorite memories with our girl.
As I shared these pictures, though, I found myself keenly aware of the moms and dads who did not have the blessing of so much time with their children.  Through While We're Waiting, we've had the opportunity to meet many parents who never had the opportunity to make the kind of memories we have with Hannah, and my heart breaks for them.  We were so blessed to have the time we had with Hannah.

As I thought about Hannah and all those we've met whose children have left "too soon", I remembered a book that Hannah "wrote" back when she was in junior high.  This was a project of her GT class, and is an autobiography, complete with photographs.

She drew the cover picture, which is a bell (her grandma always called her "Hannah Bell").  Clearly, she got her artistic ability from me!  ;-)  I love the words she uses to describe herself ..."joyful", "optimistic", "sweet", "Christian", "caring". She couldn't have been more correct in her choice of words.  The first page put a lump in my throat: "Dedicated to My Amazing Family". She begins with a chapter called "Before Me", in which she states that we were so ecstatic when she was born that we gave her the middle name "Joy", which is true! That chapter is followed by a chapter for each year of her life. It was so much fun reading all of these chapters, and looking at all the photographs she included. The one that really got to me though was the final chapter, which was titled "My Future Possibilities", and reads as follows:

"As I think about the future, I get so excited because I know my future is bright. I love to think about what is to come, and I do constantly. I plan to graduate high school with a 4.0 and at the top of my class. Then, I would like to enroll in Ouachita Baptist University with a full or almost full paid scholarship, and study elementary education to become an elementary teacher. I'd graduate with a bachelor's degree from OBU, and then go somewhere for my master's degree in teaching. I would hope to be married by the time I graduated college, so I would settle down in a small town in Arkansas and start a family (and teach). When I'm old enough to retire, I will probably move closer to where my grandkids live so I could be close to them and watch them grow up. I want to live a long, happy, healthy and content life that I can look back on someday and be proud of. And maybe someday I'll read this book and I'll think, "Wow, I did just that!""

The first time I read this paragraph after Hannah's death, especially the last part, it felt like a punch in the stomach. It literally left me almost breathless for a few minutes. How can someone so excited and full of plans for the future just be gone? How can her innocent desire for a long and healthy life be so unfulfilled?

And God had to gently remind me of something I already know. As we talk to grieving parents, one of the things we talk about is God's sovereignty...the fact that He is in control in and through every situation. As Hannah's illness progressed and it became apparent that, without a miracle, she would be leaving us for Heaven, we felt that we were being called to submit to His will for her life and for ours. Jeremiah 29:11 says, "For I know the plans that I have for you,...plans for welfare and not for calamity, to give you a future and a hope." Hannah's future was in His hands...she had her own plans, we had our plans for her...but God had a better plan. What seemed to be a calamity to us was the best thing that ever happened to her!

I found this quote the other day:

Death is God's way of saying, "Your table is ready."  Hannah's table was ready at the age of 17.

Barbara Johnson in "Pack Up Your Gloomees in a Great Big Box, Then Sit on the Lid and Laugh" says this: "There is a finality to death that is inescapable. You can't go around it, over it, or through it. All you can do is negotiate--not for a reversal that could bring your loved one back, because there is none. Instead, you plead for some kind of understanding, some way to make sense of it all as you try to get through it, allowing your grief to take its course and let the pain eventually drain away."

We will never completely understand why Hannah's wish for a long and healthy life was unfulfilled on this earth, but she also said that she wanted to be able to look back on her life someday and be proud of it. I think that if she could see the lives that have been touched through her relatively short life (and I think maybe she can in Heaven), she would be proud.

Thank you for sharing in our life, and hers, by reading these posts, and praying for our family all these years.

Thoughtful Thursday -- On Guilt

Take a minute and think back to, oh, maybe about sixth grade.  You’re sitting in your classroom at school, minding your own business, when the kid sitting behind you fires off a large spitball at the teacher, hitting her square in the back of the head.  The teacher whirls around and says, “All right, who did that?”  Of course, no one raises their hand.  So she says, “All right, class, we’re all just going to sit here until the guilty person confesses.”  She crosses her arms and waits, tapping her foot on the floor.  As the seconds tick by, and the silence lengthens, you start squirming in your seat.  You may even begin to sweat a little bit.  You KNOW you didn’t do it, but for some reason you begin to feel guilty.  Should you confess, just to end the tension?  You finally breathe a huge sigh of relief when the kid behind you says, “It was me.”

Guilt.  It's a heavy weight to bear.  Paralyzing, really.

Guilt is a common emotion among parents.  From the time our kids are born, it seems like there’s something to feel guilty about.  For us moms, it starts even before they’re born … “Oh man, I shouldn’t have had that sip of Diet Coke.”  Then, as they grow, there are more and more things to feel guilty about … not sterilizing that pacifier that was dropped on the floor, letting your kids watch too much TV, eating ice cream for supper occasionally.  The list could go on and on.  It seems that, as parents, we are just wired to feel guilt.

When a child dies, that guilt can be overwhelming.  I think every parent who has lost a child deals with guilt to some degree or another.  As parents, we believe that our main responsibility is to protect our child, so it just follows that sometimes we feel that our child’s death must somehow be our fault.

This idea is as old as the oldest book in the Bible.  Even Job’s friends told Job that he must somehow be responsible for all the tragedy that had befallen him.

But this idea assumes that the power of life and death are in our hands, and our child died because we dropped the ball somehow.  The Bible tells us again and again that only God is sovereign over life and death.  Job 14:5  (NIV) says, "A person's days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed."  And Psalm 139:16 reminds us that God ordained our days before we were ever born.

We talk with a lot of parents as we host While We're Waiting events, and we sometimes encounter parents who believe their child’s death is a punishment from God because of some kind of sin in their own life.

We always remind them that the price for all of our sins was paid by Jesus’ death on the cross.  Most everyone is familiar with John 3:16 … “For God so loved the world, He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.”  But, we often neglect the following verse, John 3:17 … “For God did not send His Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through Him.”

And listen to what Romans 8:31-34 has to say about this topic …

"What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?  He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?  Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies.  Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us."

And then there’s Romans 8:1, which says …

"Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus..."

When we continue to wallow in guilt, we are demonstrating a lack of trust in God.  If we are Christians, and we believe Jesus died on the cross so we could be forgiven of our sin, yet we continue to believe that the loss of our child is somehow a punishment from God, we are saying that we do not trust Him to hold up His end of the bargain in forgiving us.

We must continually make the choice to put our trust in God’s Word and not our feelings.  Our feelings will lie to us every time.  This choice must be made daily, or even moment by moment.

Romans 8:34 says that Christ Jesus is at the right hand of God and is interceding for us. As long as we remain shackled by guilt, we can do nothing for Him ... and Satan loves that!  We honor our Lord and His sacrifice for us by accepting the grace and peace He so freely offers.

Thoughtful Thursday -- My New Friend

I had a wonderful lunch today with a new friend.  We had such a good time visiting, neither one of us wanted to leave ... even though it was cold in the restaurant and we were both freezing!  We sat and talked for nearly two hours.

My new friend has an interesting job.  She works in a nice office and spends her time calling insurance companies and inviting them to participate in webinars that her company produces.  Spending so much time on the phone, she has all kinds of interesting conversations with people.  Some folks are not very receptive to her calls, either politely declining, simply hanging up on her, or occasionally cursing at her.  Some sign up for the webinars, and others are just happy to have someone to talk to, keeping her on the line for probably much longer than she's supposed to chat.  She had some really entertaining stories about what these folks had to say to her.

My new friend is also in the process of setting up her first household, and learning how to grocery shop and cook for her husband.  She talked about having her in-laws over for dinner for the first time a couple of nights ago, and how proud she was that her dinner turned out well.  We exchanged recipes and talked about her favorite place to grocery shop.

My new friend talked about how much she's looking forward to becoming a mother someday.  She laughed about how her husband wants them to have two boys, and is even already praying for those two boys, even though she really wants to have two girls.  Of course, she and her husband are both still in college, so she knows those babies, whether they're boys or girls, are still a few years away.

My new friend has a strong faith in God, honed and strengthened by suffering and sorrow.  She is young, but she has experienced more in her life than many adults.  Yet she has a joy that radiates from deep inside.

My new friend is beautiful, intelligent, talented, and charming.  I love spending time with her.

I've actually known my new friend for a little over nineteen years.  But until she got married about a month ago, I knew her as ... my daughter.

It's amazing how quickly our relationship has changed.  And I'm enjoying every minute of it.

This is the type of relationship I've been so sad about missing with Hannah.  In a way, having this kind of friendship with Bethany now makes me miss Hannah even more.  But at the same time, I think the fact that I did not have this opportunity with Hannah makes me appreciate what I have with Bethany more than I ever would otherwise.  And for that, I am very thankful.

I can't wait until my next lunch date with my new friend.  :-)

Thoughtful Thursday -- On Being the Mother of the Bride (x 2)

So on May 25th, this beautiful young lady became Mrs. Bethany Bird, and I still haven't quite recovered!  

Being the mother of the bride was absolutely one of the most amazing, breathtaking, awe-inspiring, joy-filled, and exhausting experiences I have ever had!  The wedding day couldn't have been more perfect (except for forgetting everyone's boutonnieres and corsages until just before we all walked down the aisle, lol), and we couldn't be more thrilled with our new son-in-law.  

As the big day approached, however, I was struck with a number of similarities between Bethany's wedding and Hannah's Heaven-going.  Does that sound a little strange?  Maybe it is ... but stick with me here.

1.  From the time Bethany came home from college on May 9th, I knew her days at home were numbered.  I knew there were only a few more times we would eat dinner together as a family (just the three of us), stay up late and cheer for the Oklahoma City Thunder together, and give each other good-night hugs.  I found myself wanting to savor every moment.  I let everything else go, including blogging, to just devote myself to our time together.  The last couple months of Hannah's life, we knew the same thing.  We knew that unless God did a miracle, she would be leaving us soon.  And we dropped everything else (you know, all that stuff that seems so important but really isn't) just to be with her.  And I wouldn't take a thing for that time, with either one of my girls.

2.  Planning for Bethany's wedding at times seemed oddly like planning for Hannah's funeral.  As I went through old photographs choosing pictures for the rehearsal dinner slide show, I was reminded of how I did the same thing in preparation for Hannah's celebration service.  Bethany and I discussed all the different aspects of the ceremony sitting together in the living room.  Much of my planning for Hannah's service was done with her sleeping in the recliner in that same living room.  As I said earlier, we knew that unless there was a miracle, Hannah would be leaving us, and I wasn't sure I'd have the presence of mind to do these things after she was gone.  And, if God chose to heal her, we would have a wonderful slide show to use when we shared her miraculous story!  

3.  We knew that our lives would never be the same when Hannah went to Heaven; just as we knew our lives would once again change forever when Bethany got married.  Of course, there was a huge difference here ... We knew that we would no longer be able to see or talk to Hannah; there would be no more future (on this earth, anyway) with her.  With Bethany, we have much to look forward to ... having a "son", watching their relationship grow and mature, and someday having a grandchild or two (or several).  But in either situation, the anticipation of such a dramatic change can be a bit of a challenge.

4.  Hannah's homegoing and Bethany's wedding brought out all of our dearest friends and family members. It was so wonderful to have these folks share both of these special days with us.  We have absolutely the most amazing friends and family.  Ever.

5.  Maybe the coolest similarity between these two events came down to the bridegroom.  By far the most beautiful and touching part of Bethany's wedding day occurred as she came down the aisle to meet her groom.  The wedding was outdoors, and she and her dad had a long and winding walk down to the actual site of the ceremony.  From the moment she stepped out the door, her groom began to tear up, and by the time she stood before him at the altar, he was weeping openly.  His tears of joy were reflected in the eyes of nearly everyone in attendance, including this mother of the bride.  If there had been any doubt in my mind about his love for her (and there wasn't!), it would have been washed away by his tears.  And, as her dad turned her over to her groom, his joy was plain for all to see.  It permeated every part of the ceremony.  My Brad said later that he had no problem, as a dad, turning his girl over to a man who clearly was so humbled and overjoyed to be marrying her.

So what's the similarity there?  Hannah's dad never had the opportunity to walk her down the aisle to a waiting groom ... Or did he?  Didn't he and I, as her parents, have the privilege of walking her through 17 1/2 years of life, and and then holding her hands as she stepped into Heaven to be greeted by her Bridegroom?  I have to believe that her Bridegroom greeted her with just as much joy as Bethany's groom did.  And just like Bethany, she has started a new life with her Groom, separate from us as her parents, but full of exciting things to look forward to.  Knowing that her Heavenly Father was there to take her hand made it possible for us to let go.  

6.  And there's one more similarity ... We have the assurance of seeing both of our girls again.  We're looking forward to seeing Bethany and Brad on Saturday evening for her birthday.  And we anticipate seeing them fairly often in the years ahead.  We won't have that kind of relationship with Hannah here on earth, but we will see her again ... at the marriage supper of the Lamb (Revelation 19:9).  How cool is that?

And now, if you'll indulge me as I share a few pictures of the day.

Exchanging letters without seeing each other before the ceremony ...

The groom's tears ... (one of my absolute favorite pictures of the day!)

Tears from the bride and the father of the bride ...

Our dear friend, Larry Brown, brought the message during the ceremony ...

Brad and Bethany shared the Lord's Supper together as part of the ceremony ...

Introducing Mr. & Mrs. Brad Bird ...

Walking out.  In the background, you can see Bethany's Uncle Mark, who officiated the ceremony ...

A few pictures of the newlyweds and bridal party after the ceremony ...

A beautiful reception ...

 And finally, sky lanterns in memory of Hannah Joy ...

Thoughtful Thursday -- A Few Random Thoughts

Just a few random thoughts from the past couple of weeks to share ...

1.  The While We're Waiting ministry was the beneficiary of a wonderful fund raiser held in Fort Smith, Arkansas, this past weekend.  What an honor it was to participate in Lei Lei's 5K Run and Memory Walk, held annually in memory of Leightyn Holmes, a precious 5-year-old girl who died of brain cancer in August of 2010.  Her parents, Landen and Missy, were among the brave souls who attended our very first retreat for bereaved parents.  Thanks to the generosity of the Holmes family, some great sponsors, and a very enthusiastic crowd of runners and walkers, the While We're Waiting ministry received a little over $10,000!  As a ministry that relies solely on donations, I can't tell you how much that gift meant to us!

2.  The day after the 5K, we had the privilege of speaking at Immanuel Baptist Church in El Dorado.  That was really a special opportunity for us, because that was our home church for five years.  That's the church where our girls spent their mid-childhood years, and where they were both saved and baptized.  We shared ten things that God has been teaching us over the past five years (trimmed down a bit from my 14 Things I Wish I'd Known Five Years Ago post), and were able to talk about the While We're Waiting ministry.  We love opportunities like this and are always happy to share!

3.  Prior to our trip to south Arkansas, we were contacted by a reporter for the El Dorado News-Times who wanted to write a story about While We're Waiting.  I had a really nice visit with her on the phone, and we were very pleased when we read the article.  Imagine our surprise when friends around Arkansas began contacting us and telling us they had read the article in their hometown newspapers!  Then my sister-in-law texted me a link to the article ... in a Belleville, Illinois, newspaper!  Apparently, the article had been picked up by the AP, and it appeared in newspapers around the country ... in Alaska, California, North Carolina, Missouri, etc.!  We were blown away ... What a great way to get the word out about While We're Waiting!  Want to read the article?  Click here to read it in the Kansas City Star.

4.  While We're Waiting is going to be hosting its first Bereaved Parents Weekend "on the road."  We are bringing our retreat to Carriere, Mississippi.  For more information, click the "While We're Waiting Weekend Retreat for Bereaved Parents" tab above.  We are so excited about this opportunity, and would love to have more opportunities to take this ministry on the road.  If you would like to talk to us about bringing a Parents' Weekend, a Dads' Weekend, or a Moms' Mini-Retreat to your area, click on the "Contact Me" tab above.

So there's a lot of exciting stuff going on with While We're Waiting right now.

There's also a lot of exciting stuff happening on the home front!

1.  As of today, Bethany has completed her first year of college!  She took her last final this morning, packed up her dorm room and headed home.  She has studied so hard and done so well this year ... I'm extremely proud of her!

2.  And, as of today, she is 17 days away from becoming Mrs. Bird!  Wait ... What?  17 DAYS!?!?  Oh my goodness ... I better get off this computer and get busy, lol!

Seriously, I am going to get off the computer for awhile.  I'm planning to take a hiatus from the blog for the rest of the month, so I can be fully present with my girl as she spends her last couple of weeks at home.  I don't want to miss a moment!  I'll be back when I'm a mother-in-law, and I'm sure I'll have lots to share.  Thank you all who take the time to read my posts.  You all are an encouragement to me!

Thoughtful Thursday -- Aunt Bethany

Yesterday my daughter became an aunt.

Well, not really ... she won't be officially an aunt until she marries baby Benjamin's uncle next month ... but, hey, it's close enough.

This is a big deal.  Yes, babies are born every day, and young ladies become aunts.  But not this young lady.

You see, when she was a young teenager, her 17-year-old sister and only sibling, died of cancer.

Five years ago, I held her as she sobbed over the fact that she would never get to be an aunt.  Through my own tears, I tried to explain to her that maybe someday she would get married, and that maybe her husband would have a brother or a sister who would someday have a baby, so that maybe someday she'd still get to be an aunt.

"But no, that wouldn't be the same," she cried.  I had to admit she was probably right.  And over the years, as friends and teammates became aunts, she politely admired their baby nieces and nephews, privately mourning the fact that she would never be an aunt to her sister's children.

Well ... all those maybe somedays have now come to pass.  She's about to marry a young man who has an older brother and a precious wife (who has become like an older sister to Bethany), and yesterday little Benjamin was born.

Bethany and her fiance' drove all the way from Fayetteville to Hot Springs for his arrival.  The pictures say it all.

No, I suppose it's not the same.  But you know what?  It's pretty darn good.  And I can't help but think that Hannah is smiling down on these two young families ... one with a newborn baby, and one with an about-to-be newborn marriage.  And that makes this Mama's heart smile.

"Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart."  Psalm 37:4 (ESV)