Time to Run

 

Dear Friends and Family,

It is, once again, time to begin preparing for the St. Jude Run.  The three of us are, once again,  teaming together to raise funds for St Jude.  100% of every dollar raised will go toward the research and treatment of childhood cancer, and for the care of children who fight this deadly disease. 

Childhood cancer first left an impact on Jamee’s life when, in kindergarten, her little friend, Nicholaus, lost his battle.   Since then there have been several children in our community who have fought against cancer.  Lexi, lost her battle several years ago.   Brock a student in the class ahead of Jade, has also battled and survived this mighty disease.  Most recently, Jada, the daughter of our church youth pastor was diagnosed of Clear Cell Sarcoma of the Kidney.  As the three of us run, we will do so with these three in mind, remembering their fight, their courage and their valiant spirits. Running from Tremont to Peoria is no small task but it is nothing compared to the fight that so many children have against cancer. 

 

  The death of our beautiful daughter and sister, Jalayne, nearly three years ago, has made us painfully aware of the unspeakable sorrow of saying goodbye to a child far too soon.  We cannot prevent all childhood accidents and death but we are determined to do our part in joining in the fight against childhood cancer.

The three of us are looking forward to joining the many other St Jude runners in the race against cancer on Saturday, August 3rd.   We will begin running in Tremont and will run the back roads to downtown Peoria.  We will run in memory of Nicholaus and Lexi and in honor of Brock and Jada, knowing in our hearts that our sweet Jalayne will be cheering us on from heaven.

This year the three of us are striving to raise $5,000 for St. Jude.  If you would like to donate to this wonderful cause, your contributions will be greatly appreciated.  You can send a check made out to St Jude Runs to us at 6290 Broadway Road, Groveland, IL 61535 or donate online at      www.stjudepeoriaruns.org/holmes3

We understand that not everyone can donate monetarily. Still, we ask that you remember us and all of the runners on this day. Most importantly, remember and pray for the little warriors, those who have lost, won, or are still fighting against childhood cancer.  It is for them that we run. 

 

May God Bless You All,

Karol, Jamee and Jade

 

 

Mother's Day

I love Mother's Day.  We typically keep this day pretty low key.  My family pampers me, playing heavily upon my love language which is acts of service.  On this day I reflect on how truly blessed I am to have been raised by a wonderful mother and now to have beautiful children of my own.  I know that I am unworthy of all the love that has been given to me.

Yet even as I soak in the love of what I have, as I delight in watching the interaction of my children,  my heart aches for my child in heaven.  I long for my family's circle to be complete.

 

²¹ For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain. ²² But if I live on in the flesh, this will mean fruit from my labor; yet what I shall choose I cannot tell. ²³ For I am hard-pressed between the two, having a desire to depart and be with Christ, which is far better. ²⁴ Nevertheless to remain in the flesh is more needful for you. 

 

Philipians 1:21-24

 

JALAYNE "LAYNEE' GRACE HOLMES MEMORIAL SCHOLARSHIP

Tonight I had the pleasure of presenting Laynee's memorial scholarship to a young lady that I know will prove herself worthy. 

Each year the nominees for Laynee's scholarship are asked to write an essay detailing their attitude toward the word retard in name calling. This year there were 9 nominees and, as always, each of the essays were very well written.  And, as always, there were  a couple that stood out among the rest.  The essay that we chose proved that the young lady who wrote it clearly understood the offensiveness of the "R" word.  We feel confident from her writing that she not only will avoid using the word, but she will make a point to educate others who do use the word. 

It is always with a heavy heart that I stand before the senior class to present Laynee's scholarship.  It seems, in so many ways, surreal to talk of Laynee and our love for her, of what she meant to us and to all who knew her.  It pains me to talk about he "R" word and the bitter taste that it leaves in the mouths of those touched by intellectual challenges.  Yet, as I look out among the many faces before me, I can see the light of understanding on several of them.  I can see that it has never occurred to most of them how it might feel to our family and others with disablities when we hear that word used to demean another.  I can see that some will walk away with a determination never to utter that word again. I can hope with everything in me, that those who have learned tonight will share what they learned with others. 

My mind can barely wrap around the fact that already we have given 3 of these scholarships in Laynee's memory. 

Tonight we proudly presented the third Jalayne "Laynee" Grace Holmes scholarship to Miss Taylor Haggerdorn. 

Make Laynee Proud Taylor.

A Unique bond

I met a woman today, one who faces the unthinkable.   Our meeting was not a pleasant one.  It was filled with soul searing grief.  I watched as, in the span of one converation, her facial expressions went from clawing panic over the inevitable to quiet, mournful resignation of what is her life's harsh and brutal reality.  My heart lodged in my throat as she spoke of her daughter, saying "It should be me.  I should be the one dying but she is going to go before me. I am going to have to bury my daughter." 

I had purposefully avoided telling her of my own situation.   That I had already buried my daughter. I did not mention how I know that she stands at the brink of a pain so great it defies explanation.  This was her story, her grief. It was not the time or the place for my own.  I wanted her to know that my sorrow was for her, not for my own situation.  So I kept silent and just listened.   But as we talked, we learned that we have mutual acquaintances.  She knows people that I know.  And then she asked where I live.  I told her and she asked "do you live in the one with the pool?"   When I clarified that we did have a pool but it's gone now.  Her face registered clarity and recognition. I knew that she had connected the dots.  Suddenly she knew.  She touched me as she said "You know.  You know what it's like to lose a daughter."  All I could do was nod and tell her that I do know.  That I am so, so sorry.   That no mother should ever have to bury their child.

I am glad that I chose to keep silent.  At the same time I am grateful that she discovered the truth.  For with the light of recognition in her eyes came an instant connection, an inexplicable bond that is shared only among parents whose children are gone (or in this case "going") too soon.  I had no words of wisdom, nothing that could bring comfort to her.   I could only embrace her with a promise to pray, knowing that even that seems somehow empty. 

Long after we went our own ways, this mother stayed with me in my thoughts.   It occurred to me, not for the first time, how very few people that we know personally have experienced child loss.  But for those who do know, the bond is immediate. It is a bond that runs deep and connects souls intimately.   Each time we see each other, we do not speak of our loss, words are unnecessary.  Still........we know. We just KNOW.

Spring

My heart has been heavy for my little girl lately.  Reality is that the heavy, aching heart never really goes away.  It's there... always... with every beat... with every breath.  But some days are extra heavy. 

As much as I love the balmy, springtime weather that those of us in the midwest have been enjoying this week, I cannot help noticing that warmer weather brings greater aching.  Perhaps it was her almost obsessive love for the outdoors that causes me to be more keenly intuned to her abscence when the weather is nice. Or perhaps it is the dreadful fact that she died there, in our back yard. 

I absolutely love this weather.  The sunshine seems to reach down into my soul and transform me, making me almost giddy.  The warmth, the new life, the color, the fresh smell of spring dirt add a sense of  exuberance to ordinary day.  I cannot get enough of spring time

And yet.

There are sharp stabs of pain- pain that comes from being too long without my youngest daughter.  Sometimes it is almost as if I can feel her there beside me as I work in the yard, most especially, in her garden.  I picture her, in my mind's eye, running and dancing through the grass.  This image brings nearly knee buckling pain.  The sun, rising and setting, paints marvelous pictures this time of year, pictures that never cease to remind me of her.  The more extraordinary the color, the more I long for her. 

 Today, for the first time, I placed Kruz in her swing hanging from our swing set and my heart clenched tight.  I wonder if, in spite of the fact that by now she would be too big for it,  I will always think of it as hers.  This evening as I was preparing to bring Moise and Kruz in from outside I missed her so desperately, knowing, instinctively that she would be a little mother hen to her baby brother. She would be such a big helper.  It seems that everywhere I turn there are little reminders of what should be but is not. 

At times I feel exhausted with the constant, unending task of trying to balance grief and joy.  How do I, forever, allow the sorrow to be exactly what it is, without allowing it to steal the joy that is my life? How do I do this from now until forever?

Empathy

"Pray. Pray hard. My sweet daughter gave birth yesterday to her 40 week, perfect in everyway, still born daughter."  "Tell me again... God is good always. Tell me"  These words are an excerpt from a message sent to me last week from a beautiful, dear friend.  In the past two weeks I have had three phone calls or messages telling me of the death of someone's child.  A little three year old boy, so very much like Laynee died in an accident eerily similar to our own accident.  One day later, a young boy from our church, a friend of my children, died in a car accident.  And now this message from my friend, her daughter's long awaited daughter, gone before she took her first breath.  After learning of each of these, I did the one and only thing that I know to do.  I prayed. It was in praying for my friend and her daughter that I realized something is different. My prayers are different.  My response to another's tragedy is different.  I am different.

Not long ago, a few months maybe,  this sort of news would have been nearly debilitating to me.  I would, most certainly, have prayed for these families, but my tears, the deep sorrow that I felt would have been for my own tragedy, my own loss, not theirs.  I would have been thrust back in time to our own horrific experience and relived the trauma of my own life. In praying I would have lashed out at God, begging to understand why it is that bad things happen to good people, demanding to know why he took my daughter from me.  But this was not my reaction to hearing of each of these recent tragedies. 

While my reaction to the loss that others have experienced is different than it has ever been since Laynee's accident, neither is it the same as it would have been before Laynee died.  The difference....is empathy. Before experiencing the death of a child I would have felt sympathy for any parent who must endure such sorrow.  Sympathy and empathy, though often used interchangeably, are not the same.  The sympathy that I felt before would have come from compassion born of my  perception of what I thought it might be like to lose a child. I would have ached for each of these families, all the while hoping that I would never have to know or understand this type of pain. I wondered "how does one survive something like that?" In contrast, the empathy that I feel now comes from a deep, personal understanding of child loss.  From knowing the physical pain, the shock, the agony of burying your beloved child.  Along with this empathy comes the knowledge that these parents will never, ever be the same.  That their lives will forever be marked in terms of "before" and "after."  Even as I know this, I know too that they will survive.  By the grace of God they will carry on.

Tears fell upon hearing of each of these recent tragedies.  For the first time since we said good bye to our baby girl,  not one of those tears were for my own pain but for the pain of these parents.  My prayers were simply "Oh God, be near to them.  It's such a long and painful journey." I pray also that somehow I can take this empathy and use it for the service of others.

Comfort, comfort my people, says your God

Isaiah 40:1

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, LAYNEE GRACE

YOU WILL ALWAYS BE

 MY FOREVER LOVE