Loving Laynee

Radiant

2012-02-06T13:14:00.000-08:00

Today, as I was cleaning up my gallery of photos in my cell phone, many of which are of black nothingness, apparently taken inside my pocket or someplace equally as unintentional, I came across a few pictures our sweet Laynee grace. I knew they were there, they have been there for a very long time. Still, seeing them, seeing her takes my breath away every time. Today was no different.

Since I am about due for a new phone, mine is rather old and doesn't hold it's charge very well anymore, I suddenly became determined that the pictures had to be in a safer place. The idea of losing even one priceless picture of her is chilling. Being the not so techno savvy person that I am, I had no idea how to get the pictures off my phone. A quick text to my friend RK, solved that problem in a hurry. For the first time I saw these pictures in full screen and............well..............there are no words, she is so beautiful, so happy, so radiant, so LAYNEE. I was stuck, for quite some time, somewhere between laughing and crying. I have to laugh because even I cannot deny that orneriness positively oozes from her squinty eyes and big smile. At the same time I cry because I love and miss her so desperately.

This particular picture was taken while we were on vacation the summer before the accident and she spent a day at my brother's house. It doesn't matter that I did not take the picture or that I wasn't even there. That's my Laynee, her smile, her joy, her radiance.

I would give every single earthly possession I have to see that face, kiss those cheeks, hear that laughter just one more time.

Come quickly Lord

Why, God?

2012-01-30T19:28:00.000-08:00

Tonight my heart is restless. I've spent the better part of today trying to make sense of things that just do not make sense, cannot make sense no matter how I look at them. Of course, much of this comes from the fact that today is Laynee's birthday. That, in and of itself, creates restlessness. It is wrong, so inherently wrong, for a five year old to not be with her family on her birthday.

I struggle to know how best to celebrate her life, the 2.5 beautiful years that we had with her, without dwelling upon her death. People tell me all the time that I "need to remember her life, not her death." Well, that's a really nice thought. Truly it is. But it's not realistic. She died, she is not here anymore. To remember her life IS to remember that she died. The two cannot be separated. I cannot miss my child without recalling her death. But while all of these things are true, I do believe that there must be a balance, to remember but not to dwell upon. Therein lies one of the greatest challenges that we face at this point in our grief.

I baked a cake, I wanted it to be special for her. As I stared into the cupboard at ingredients for cake, I realized that I can't make her favorite cake because I don't even know what that would be. We tend to go pink for nearly everything where Laynee is concerned, but would pink be her color? Truth is, while we all loved to doll her up in girly things, this one was about as un-dainty as a girl could get. In the end, I decided it really didn't matter and went with pink. Jim came home and asked "are you making Laynee's favorite dinner?" He asked because that is what we do on birthdays. But because it was a gorgeous, warm, sun shiny day I grilled out, not for Laynee, but for those who are still here. Her grave site glitters and sparkles tonight with hearts and butterflies and birthday hats, all put there to remember the life of the little girl who lit up our world.

In addition to today being Laynee's birthday, the past several days have been filled with sad and devastating news. Our little community seems to get hit hard by devastation and I can't help asking "Why?" "Why, God?" A young father of three, and a fourth baby on the way, with an inoperable tumor on his spine. A wonderful father, a man of God and he and his wife are faced with decisions that have no easy answers, options with no great outcomes. And I wonder, how, even in the big picture that I cannot see does, this make sense. And tonight news came of another, this one from our church family, also young, too young for such a diagnosis. His body is ravaged by cancer. Months of treatment, countless prayers, but the cancer has grown and multiplied. Then another, a man who has seen his children and even his grandchildren raised, but his tests come back "NO sign of cancer spreading." I rejoice and I praise God for this result but still I wonder. "Why?' Prayers have gone up on behalf of all these men. Why are the requests of some granted but not of others?

There are no answers and for those of you who are prepared to send me emails or comments or messages (because I know there are many thinking this very thing) telling me that "we can't question God." That "his ways are higher than our ways." Don't. I'll save you the trouble. I already know. I know, on a cerebral level, that His ways are perfect. I know that God is good and that he does good. I know that God is a god of love and mercy and compassion and that "all things work together for good" I know all of these things in my head and, on good days, even in my heart. I know it but I cannot understand. I cannot understand why children are abused and unloved, all over the world, but my child is not here to celebrate her fifth birthday with those who love her desperately.

At the end of the day, when all is said and done, I still will not understand but I will whisper "I trust you God. I know that you love me enough to die for me, and I trust you"

Although the fig tree shall not blossom

neither shall fruit be in the vines,

the labour of the olive shall fail

and the field shall yield no meat

the flock shall be cut of from the fold

and there shall be no herd in the stall

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord

I will joy in the God of my salvation.

Habakuk 3:17,18, 19

5th Birthday

2012-01-29T20:12:00.000-08:00

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LAYNEE

Oh how special this day should be, a day of excited anticipation. A day filled with cake and candles, balloons and presents........ because 5 is a very important age. 5 is the year of leaving toddlerhood behind to become a little lady. 5 is for learning.... to read and write and tie your own shoes, maybe even ride a bike. 5 is for dance classes - tap, ballet, gymnastics or maybe T-ball instead. 5 is for kindergarten and school buses and new, special friends. 5 is for so many wonderful things. But, for you, 5 was not meant to be.

I know that you're happy, you will never know sad. You're not missing these things so you really don't mind. Your heart's not been broken as badly as mine. I haven't seen you for such a long time, forever it seems,but I know that for you it's been no time at all. I miss you sweet baby, my prettiest girl. I can't wait for heaven, to hold you once more. I love you sweet Laynee, I always will

Happy Birthday in Heaven, my 5 year old girl. \

I Am Weak

2012-01-22T13:20:00.000-08:00

I struggle, more and more it seems, to find a way to stand beneath the relentless weight of sorrow.   My faith has been severely tested in ways that I would never have thought possible. The pain, it seems to have no end. Time moves on and the expectation is that we move on, step away from grief and live, get on with our life, so to speak.

And so I try. I try so hard to find ways to numb the pain, to bury the sorrow, to go on living.  My default coping mechanism is and always has been to stay busy.  For the past several months I have found myself digging deep into a busy lifestyle in an attempt to deflect the pain that so often threatens to consume me. I work more hours, clean more, run more, write more, do more; all in an effort to deal with the hurting that will not stop. I have no passion for any of these things. They simply occupy my time and divert my attention. All of these things pale in comparison to the job I had as Laynee's mommy.  At the end of each day, what I find is that the pain is still there, my heart remains sorrowful and my arms still ache with emptiness. No matter how much I do, it is never, ever enough.

One of the most difficult aspects of this grief is coming to terms with the reality that this our life. That grief is forever. At times, this one irreconsilable truth threatens to get the best of me. I wonder, truly wonder, if I am going to make it. Will there be enough to do for the rest of my days to keep me from being devoured by this?

And then God speaks. He speaks in that still soft voice that is barely discernable to us as humans.   He says "I'm here."   "My grace is sufficient for you." And I know. I know that I cannot do this alone.  I cannot hide from sorrow beneath a load of busy activities. Not now and not ever.   I am weak. I need help. I need God's grace.

But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you,

for my power is made perfect in weakness."

Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.

IICorinthians 12:9

A New Year.

2012-01-07T19:35:00.000-08:00

I am a bit late in posting about the beginning of a new year, but only a little I suppose. I find myself wondering if it can really be that just a week ago we were still in 2011. Truth is, I've come here a few times, even written a few lines but then I delete them. Usually I end up just looking back, reading old posts, staring at the pictures of my girl, and shaking my head at the reality that is our life.

The dawning of a new year seems to be a time of taking inventory. It is human nature to look at where we have been, where we are, and where we are going. As I look back at the posts I have written in the last year, grief's ebb and flow is evident. A measure of healing has clearly taken place and I suspect there will be even more healing in the coming year. The pain is now like a dull throbbing headache with frequent sharp pangs that continue to take my breath away. My arms continue their aching for her yet they seem to have grown accustomed to the emptiness. There are still times when I awaken in the night with her name on my lips and crushing weight within my chest. Nightmarish images frequently rear their ugly head but I've become adept at putting them aside and replacing them with thoughts less painful.   And so it goes, a little more healing, day by day, year by year. Now. And Forever.   Until heaven.

Looking ahead at the coming year, I cannot help thinking that she should be almost five. Five years old, a glorious age when life is exciting for little sponge like minds. How great would be the anticipation of that magical date, her birthday.   Would we have a party with little friends and party hats? With a five year old it should be a year in which sidewalk chalk, bubbles, and juice boxes are a staple. Would T ball fill up our summer calendar? Would she go to kindergarden in the fall? I wonder all of these things about the year 2012, though I know on a cerebral level, that these things were never meant to be a part of her life.

I look forward to the new year with a mixture of excitement and dread. I am well aware that a year can hold much excitement. Yet I know also that a year can bring devastation so great that it washes all else away. I do not know what the new year will bring but I do know that my God will reign sovereign for the entire year.   And I rest in that awareness.

2011-12-24T20:39:00.000-08:00

How I wish that this were not a part of our lives. That Christmas did not include trips to the cemetary and lighting candles in rememberance. Two year olds are not supposed to be in the cemetary on Christmas. They should be singing of baby Jesus and staring with wide eyed wonder at twinkling lights and brightly wrapped packages. Oh how I wish.............

............but here we are, doing that which seems so incredibly wrong.

Loving her, missing her and somehow going on without her.

Merry Christmas Sweet Jalayne

2011-12-24T11:57:00.000-08:00

It's Christmas time around here, Laynee. There is much activity and much excitement as we prepare. Presents are wrapped, food is prepared, lots and lots of sweet things have been made and we are all ready for Christmas. There are glittering lights everywhere you look, stockings, wreaths, trees and good smells are in abundance. It doesn't seem much like Christmas because the sun is shining brightly and there is no snow on the ground this year. But that's okay because ever since you left us and went to heaven, Christmas doesn't feel the same anyway.

We know that you are happy in heaven, Laynee, and you probably wouldn't come back here to earth, even if you could. We are happy too but sad at the same time. This is the third time we have had Christmas without you and it seems like it should get easier but today my heart hurts so much. When we are all together is when it hurts the most. In my mind I picture exactly where you should be, who you should be playing with, the foods that you should be devouring, the gifts you should be opening.

I miss you sweet one. I miss you so very much. Have a beautiful Heavenly Christmas. Tell Jesus "Happy Birthday" and thank him for the beautiful gift He gave to us. It is because of His gift to us that we can be happy and sad here without you. Because with His gift we know that someday we are going to celebrate Christmas with you in heaven. Someday...........until then we will celebrate, we will be happy and sad and we will miss you every single day.

Merry Christmas Laynee Grace.

I LOVE YOU

Angel By Our Side

2011-12-19T07:56:00.000-08:00

There's a song I love. I first heard it on Jamee's old iPod that I often use when I am cleaning or out for a run or working out on my eliptical machine. Jade is also heard singing this song quite often. Lately, as my thoughts are drawn to Christ's birth, and angels, and peace on earth, this song is almost constantly on my mind.

A new ornament hangs from the branches of our Christmas Tree. An angel, representative of Laynee's third Christmas in heaven. In the quietness of this morning, I stood for awhile, staring, mesmerized by this angel ornament and the twinkling lights behind it.

As I stood in front of this angel, waves of emotion washed over me as I reflect upon all that was and is and should have been. Disbelief still seems to take precedence over all other thoughts; disbelief that she really is gone, that she has not come back and now perhaps most of all, that she has spent more holiday seasons in heaven than she did on earth. I have lived two years, two months and twelve days with the ever present aching, throbbing awareness that my beautiful little one has gone before me, to a place that my mind cannot begin to wrap around. I wonder: How can it be? How can it be that it has been so long? How can it be that we have survived this? And in response, this song filters through the fog of pain and sadness.

I know that, in reality, Laynee is not an Angel but a Saint. Regardless, of what we call her, the song reminds me that, even though sometimes she feels so far away, she has been with us. She has been there praying over us and somehow I believe that she has helped us to get through the darkness that has followed her own earthly death.

Our sweet angel baby who charmed us in this life, has been constantly by our side. She has done the work of our father and led us through this deluge of suffering, caring for us and loving us from her place in heaven.

The Angel By Our Side.

I Love you Sweet Baby.

I LOVE you and miss you so much

A Long Lost Feeling

2011-12-15T14:32:00.000-08:00

This week I felt a stir of something deep inside of me. It was a feeling so long dormant that it was barely recongnizable, a feeling I never thought I would feel again. It is a feeling that signifies a measure, regardless of how small, of healing.

As I was folding laundry, I was thinking of Christmas baking with the kids. Jamee would be coming in on the train soon, and Jade and I have plans for many delightful holiday treats. Kiss cookies, cutouts, caramels, and a few new treats are all in the plans. While I enjoy eating the traditional holiday treats, time spent in the kitchen with the kids and carols, flour, frosting, laughter, and mounds of dirty dishes brings far more pleasure than the indulgence of our creations.

These thoughts of what is soon to come brought true and genuine excitement. It was not the bittersweet feeling of joy mixed with sorrow. It was excitement in it's purest form. For the first time in years, I am excited. Excited for Christmas and all that it represesents, in spite of the fact that my sweet baby girl will once again be missing this year. Her stocking, void of brightly wrapped gifts, hangs limp from her stocking holder, a reminder of the love and joy that one little girl brought to our home. Angel ornaments hang from our tree, symbolic of each Christmas spent without her. I desperately wish that we had our almost five year old here to add her own personality to this year's holiday baking, to lick the bowls and to eat more than her share of goodies. Still, I know that even without her the rest of us will be together. There will be love, joy, and new memories made this holiday season. It will not be the same but it will be good.

God is good.

With Thanksgiving

2011-11-23T16:51:00.000-08:00

This morning as I lay listening to the quietness of my house, before the world came alive with a new day, I reflected on this season of thanksgiving. Our third thanksgiving without Laynee. I felt a great sense of sadness as I realized that, as of tomorrow, we will have spent more thanksgivings without her than we had with her. Our last Thanksgiving with her is one that I will cherish forever, I am grateful that it was spent away from home, on the beach, so that it does not run together with all of the other Thanksgiving holidays. Laynee was beautiful then, as always.

The sadness remains, deep and profound, but today I choose to be thankful for every moment that we had with her. Every smile, every hug, every beautiful moment with her was a treasure. Perhaps most of all, I am thankful the life lessons, the love lessons that only Laynee could teach us.

Happy Thanksgiving Laynee Grace. I love you sweet baby girl.

So Great A Loss

2011-11-13T14:42:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we had the priviledge of having 2 little friends come visit us overnight. My friend, RK, whom I met through this blog, and her husband are celebrating their 11 year anniversary. Since they would be driving right past us on their way from their home in St Louis, they dropped Braska and Kinlee off at our house. What a delight they have been. Still, I have to admit that, as expected, their presence brought a few stabs of pain.

Braska has Down Sydrome just like Laynee and while she is her own unique little princess, there are some things that remind me so much of my sweet girl. Braska and Kinlee both have plenty of energy but I have to say that the two combined do not rival Laynee in the energy category. Her uncle Matt once compared her to a tornado and, well, I think he hit it right on the head. Braska struggles a little with some feeding issues which was definitely not a problem for Laynee, the girl could eat us out of house and home. Where Laynee's strongest point was her development of motor skills, Braska seems to excel cognitively. The similarities between the two come in very tiny little glimpses.Certain words spoken and the soft, husky sound of Braska's voice seems so familiar.   Occassionaly, the tilt of her head, the jutting out of her chin or the upward roll of her eyes brings a breathtaking reminder of our little girl.

A touch of sadness comes at the realization that there are many things I had forgotten about having little people in the house. Things like how many times a day potty breaks are needed, how important "snacks" and drinks are, how sweaty one can become when dressing a moving body, and how utterly impossible it is to get a decent picture of little ones. Still, there are many things I did not forget like the sweet smell of a freshly bathed child and the luscious feel of a soft pajama clad body.

The single most profound thought that this weekend has brought to mind is that of the enormity of loss that our Brock has suffered as a result of Laynee's death.  I realized last evening that in my efforts to deal with all of the trauma that each member of our family has experienced, it's been easy to shove aside the pure, unimaginable loss that not only Jim and I, but our children have experienced. Suddenly, in seeing his interaction with Braska and Kinlee, I found myself staring into the face of what was, what should have been, but of what is not.

Laynee adored her big brother, Brock, and the affection was mutual. Brock played endlessly with her. Our home and the ages of our other children is such that many evenings are spent with only Brock and Moise at home with Jim and I. While Moise is precious to all of us, his level of interaction with others is minimal. Moise really does not "play" with anyone. So it is that Brock often finds himself feeling rather bored. A deep sadness settled over me as I watched him making the most of every moment with Braska and Kinlee.   His laughter rang throughout the house as he played with them. Before this weekend I had never really stopped to think about this aspect of the enourmous loss Brock has experienced.

Time moves on, life has taken on a new sense of normal, but the magnitude of loss continues to reveal itself at the most unexpected times, in the most unexpected ways.

The Saints Rejoice, the People Mourn

2011-10-29T05:40:00.000-07:00

Dear Laynee,

Yesterday a new friend came to heaven to live there with you. I wonder if you have met her yet. I suspect that maybe you have. I am pretty sure that when these angels, who are just like you on earth, get to heaven you are right there to show them all around. I know that you and all of the other saints and angels in heaven are rejoicing to have Maddie there with you. But down here, for those of us who are left, it hurts so much to say good bye not knowing when we will ever see you again. So while you and Maddie are dancing around heaven, please watch over Maddie's family for they are going to hurt for a very long time. Stay especially close to Maddie's mommy and brother, whom I know will feel like Maddie's accident was all their fault. Those of us here are just people and we make mistakes, sometimes really big ones, but when the price for you mistakes is so high.........well, it just never stops hurting. So help Maddie watch over them sweet Laynee Grace. Help them get through this new path of sorrow that they are on.

I love you and miss you so much. I want so badly to hold you close to me today.

Laynee and Maddie

Friends Forever and Ever

Happy Fall

2011-10-23T20:09:00.000-07:00

Happy fall sweet baby girl . We carved pumpkins today and Dani carved one just for you. It has a sweet happy face and she carved a big letter "J" for Jalayne on the side. We will take it to put on your grave tomorrow. Paris and Sienna were tonight too. You would have loved playing with them. They picked some flowers from your garden. I didn't think you would mind. We miss you Laynee Grace.

I really love the picture of all the girls here tonight

but I just can't help thinking that Laynee should be sitting right there

on the other side of Danielle.

Too Much

2011-10-09T08:30:00.000-07:00

I come here often and post prayer requests of those who are in need of prayer. Obviously I do not post about everyone who is in need of prayer, but there are some things that affect me more deeply than others. I really do not try to figure out why some things stir up more of my own painfull feelings of missing Laynee than others. News of drowning death always, always bring a sick feeling to my stomach. Having experienced it, I am drawn to news of such accidents and often people in real life or in blog world will bring such things to my attention. While it is painful, I feel that I can relate more specifically to those whose children drown. I can pray in a more specific way for these families than I can for anyone else. There are several women, whose children died around the same time as Laynee, with whom I feel a particularly close bond. We are at virtually the same place in our grief journey and these women make me feel somehow less alone.

This morning my heart leapt into my throat upon hearing of a tragedy that has befallen one of these dear women, yet again. There is only one thought that occupies my mind. "This.......THIS is just too much!!!!"
My friend Joany said good bye to her beautiful daughter, Carly, just months after Laynee died. Carly also had Down Syndrome and I picture them dancing all over heaven. Last night there was a fire in the George home and their son Brad joined his baby sister in heaven. Joany's daughter, Ashleigh recently left home to serve in the Navy.

My brain cannot wrap around this. There are no words, nothing to say, nothing to do. This......This is just too much.

A Rush of Memories

2011-10-01T19:12:00.000-07:00

I should have seen it coming. I should have expected that going into the hospital for Moise's EEG yesterday would bring back memories. I should have, but I didn't. It never even crossed my mind. The memories came unbidden and unexpected. They were a combination of horrid and beautiful memories. They took my breath away and left me feeling weak and heavy hearted, as though my spirit writhes within me from the endless pain.

Needless to say, having gone most of the night without sleep, I was exhausted as Moise and I made our way to the hopital. The morning was a bit of a struggle as I tried to keep him awake. I had him in the front passenger seat so that I could keep him from falling asleep during the 20 minute drive. As I rounded the curving street that goes toward the parking deck the Emergency Department with it's large red lettered EMERGENCY came into clear view. My heart pounded and my throat tightened as I memories flooded me. I'd been there before. I had run beheath those large red letters, through the sliding doors, behind stretchers carrying, first Moise and then Jalayne. Both of those times I knew that the life of my child was, at the very best, uncertain. With Moise, the outcome was good, he took another breath and then another and one day he came back home. With Jalayne, the outcome was every parent's worst nightmare. She never took another breath and I walked out those same doors, under that same red sign, without my daughter. Just beyond those red letters is the place where I went from being just a mother, to mother of a dead child. It was there, beyond the red letters, that this thing called grief became a permanent part of our life.

My legs were heavy, my breathing labored, my senses heightened as I walked down the long familiar corridor to the hospital. Again, I remembered. I remembered the seemingly endless trips to be by Moise's side as he fought so hard to survive. There, on a window ledge, was the spot where Jim and I filled our minister in on the truth, that there wasn't much hope for Moise. And there, down that hall was the room where Steve prayed for our son. I remembered carrying my sweet little boy into and then back out of that place too many times to count. My mind went back to the day I carried a beautiful newborn girl with almond shaped eyes, floppy ears and straight lines across her palm, swaddled in pink blankets, down the hall and out of that hospital. I recalled the relief at carrying that same child out again, this time with the addition of a pacemaker in her tiny beating heart. With aching heart, I knew the beauty of "I'm taking my baby home" and the horror of "my baby is gone".

The day before Moise's EEG, someone called to pre-register him. As she hung up she gave me directions to where I needed to go. "Take these elevators to the sixth floor and we are on the left." I mentally filed the information away with the thought that I've been there before. I never stopped to consider why had been to this particular part of the hospital. That is, until the moment when the elevator doors slid open. My heart slammed in my chest cavity upon seeing the dark blue carpet. I knew, without really knowing, that around the corner would be a large fish tank with bright orange fish. Yes, I'd been here one other time, for Laynee's hearing evaluation.

That day is not a day that I would have thought was stored in the pages of my memory. I never thought about it again, not when she was alive, and not since she died. But the memories came with such vivid clarity that they seemed to suck the air from my lungs. I could see her in my mind, black leggings, red and white top, shiny little black shoes. I even remember the tiny red earrings sparkling in her ears. She was enthralled with the fish and it was there, on that day, that I taught her the sign for "fish." There was an older woman sitting in the chairs across from us who was completely dazzled by my little girl and her cheerful ways. She laughed at how Laynee lifted her leg straight up in the air (as only a child with Down Syndrome could) to climb onto the chair next to the old woman. Laynee sailed through her hearing test and as we left the audiologist stood at the end of the hall while Laynee smiled and waved at her until she was out of sight. The memories, though stunningly beautiful, washed over me like mighty waves as I struggled for composure. The tears threatend but I fought them back. Not here, not now. I reigned in my emotions, folding them carefully and tucking them away as I remember my mother folding her finest linen tablecloths, neatly, carefully and out of sight, brought out only at appropriate times.

I laid beside Moise as he slept through his EEG and the memories kept coming to mind. He smelled like I remember both he and Laynee smelling in the hospital. I was shocked by how clear these memories that I had forgotten were. Once again, I found myself in that place where pain defies explanation. I held my son close and ached for my daughter. All the while there was one thought that seemed to scream inside my head. It's the thought that has gone, like a mantra, through my head for more than two years. I WANT MY BABY BACK!!!!!!

We Can Do Hard Things

2011-09-30T03:52:00.000-07:00

Today Jim and I celebrate 21 years of marriage. I'll be honest, I have no visions of flowers, chocolates and fine dining dancing around in my head. Jim and I have ushered in our anniversary in a rather unusual way. Today Moise is scheduled for an EEG (sleep study) in hopes of getting to the root of some strange things that have been going on with him. So it is, that on the eve and very early hours of our anniversary, Jim and I have tag teamed to keep our very sleepy 10 year old awake. Jim took the late night hours while I am taking the early. We do this per doctor's orders, in hopes that he will sleep for his sleep study. As far as tonight goes, our own lack of sleep, coupled with a long, out of the ordinary day for Moise and I, is probably not the best recipe for a romantic anniversary.

As I sit here typing in the wee morning hours, big black eyes staring at me in complete bewilderment over the fact that I will not allow sleep to overtake him, I reflect over the years of our marriage. Twenty one years ago we were young (only 20 and 21 years old), crazy in love, and idealistic. We had hopes and dreams and were completely unsuspecting. We had ideas of what would be our life. Those ideas missed the mark of reality by a long shot. Children were definitely in our plans, but disabilities and child death never even entered the scope of our imagination.

I suppose that we entertained thoughts of having a strong marriage but we never had a clue of just how strong we would have to be together. Sticking together then was dramatically different than what it is today.
I won't pretend to have a perfect marriage. We don't. We have weaknesses, character flaws, communication issues and things that drive us crazy about each other. Still, tonight as I type, weariness oozing from my mind and body, there is one thing that stands out above all else. Jim and I have learned that we can do hard things.

I marvel at the awareness that 21 years ago, as Jim and I pledged our lives to one another, our Lord knew exactly what was in store for us. He knew that ours would not be a typical marriage facing typical challenges.. He has not been surprised by a single one of Moise's problems or the wearisome effects that they have on us. For him, Laynee's accident was not unexpected or devastating. He is not surprised by the fact that our marriage has not been strengthened by great success or achievement, but by challenges so great that words defy explanation. He knew that the unspeakable pain of child death would bind us together in a way that nothing else has ever been able to do. He knew that, together, Jim and I would have to do hard things, the very hardest of hard.

Happy Anniversary, My Love

Hope Blooms

2011-09-22T17:14:00.000-07:00

This post serves two purposes. First, it is granting Jamee's request that we post pictures of Laynee's garden, which is positively bursting with color right now. Jamee is the only one of my children who has ever really shared my love for gardening. She would, without question, prefer to be in the garden over inside cleaning or cooking. Secondly, this post is to share the hope that Laynee's garden brings to me.

When I think of gardening and flowers, I think spring and summer. I've never really thought much about fall being a time for flowers. But around the time of Laynee's Heaven Day anniversary, her garden seemed to come alive. Every plant has exploded into it's most glorious state. I know that this is due, primarily to the selection of plants. Since it was planted in the fall, most people chose to bring fall flowers. The color serves as a reminder to me that Laynee, though she left us one early fall day, is very much alive. Her spirit lives and though we cannot see her, she resides in glorious splendor. Though we are in a season of living without her here, one day we will see her in all her glory.

Waiting for that day!!!!

The mums in her garden are easily the largest I have ever seen.

The church was full of mums for her visitation and funeral.

The climbing clematis on her trellis is a brilliant white with the

sweetest scent.

Jamee, notice the new walkway border the

Russ just finished. All that's left is the ground cover

between the stepping stones.

Our neighboring land owner, and beloved friend and mentor

of Jim's had this tree planted in our yard in Laynee's memory. The

last two years it's blossom's opened on exactly September 7.

Love you, Laynee Grace.

9-11

2011-09-11T06:23:00.000-07:00

I awoke this morning with heavy heart, not for my own grief but for the grief of thousands of families who lost so much in the attacks on 9-11. Perhaps the fact that it comes so soon after the anniversary of Laynee's accident makes me even more aware than I would have been otherwise. While none of us will ever froget the horrific events of that day, I know that the families of the victims were thrown into a life long path of grief and sorrow. I know that when untimely death strikes a family, the pain lasts a lifetime.

All of us remember that day in great detail. It was a day that made history. It was the greatest devastation that our generation has ever witnessed. It was a devastation made worse by it's nature, not an act of God, but a direct act of hate and violence against thousands of innocent and unsuspecting human beings. My heart aches for the those whose hearts feel freshly wounded today. Those who have, by the grace of God, gone on but are forever changed. For many of these families, the term "lost a loved one" is truly appropriate as many bodies were never recovered. These families did not have the closure of saying good bye and a proper burial or cremation. There are those grieving today who lost sons and daughters and life's natural cycle was interrupted. Others lost fathers, mothers, husbands, wives and some lost multiple loved ones. Some struggle with Post Traumatic Stress and will never be the same as a result of having witnessed something so unnatural and heinous. The enormity of this event and it's effects, not only on our country but on the entire world, is too much for the human mind to comprehend.

As for myself, I, like everyone else, clearly recall that day's events. Moise was only 9 months old but much like a newborn. After months of being in the hospital, we were finally home with him and trying to adjust back to a normal life. Brock and a little boy I was babysitting were here playing in the living room. My friend Ruth had stopped by briefly, though I cannot remember why. Jim called and told me to "turn on the TV because the Twin Towers have been hit by planes" I really could not comprehend what he was saying. Okay so planes hit the Twin Towers, so........? Jim's voice has a sense of urgency and he said "it looks like a terrorist attack." As I turned on the tv I still wasn't really getting what was so big about this, my mind was so focused on being mommy and the survival of my youngest son. But then I saw. I saw what "planes crashing into the Twin Towers" meant. I saw that without a doubt this was a deliberate act. I saw the ripple effect of the impact on the towers, the impact on the entire nation. As I sat there on my knees with my baby in my arms and a little boy flanking each side, in front of the TV, I watched as first one and then another Tower, buckled and fell, taking thousands of lives. The two little boys watched my face closely with concern as tears ran down my face. My my sister and her husband, an American airlines pilot, were moving into the house across the street. I thanked God for his saftey. I stayed glued to the tv that day, my emotions raging between anger, fear and sorrow.

It was a day that is etched into the minds of all but for the families it is the day that their lives crumbled right along with the towers. My small human mind cannot begin to know how to specifically pray for these families. So I just pray, lifting them up and knowing that we have a powerful God who knows the needs of each one. Our God was not surprised by the events of 9-11. He was grieved, I am certain, but not surprised. And somehow, though sometimes it's hard to understand, I know that God is good.........all the time.

GOD BLESS THIS COUNTRY

Forever Love

2011-09-07T20:32:00.000-07:00

My Dear Sweet Laynee,
The last few days have been difficult for many of us here on earth. It seems almost impossible to grasp the reality that it has been two years since you went to be with Jesus. Two years since we got to hold you, kiss you or hear your sweet bubbling laughter. I thought of you all day today. Sometimes I would think of you and smile, other times I just couldn't keep the tears from falling. Whether I am smiling or crying there is a pain in my heart that never stops hurting.

Today I visited you at your grave three times. First Jade and I stopped by, then Joyce and I stopped on our walk. But then I went again because I needed to be alone with you there for a little while. As I sat there in the grass, looking at all the beautiful flowers and gifts around your grave, I couldn't help noticing that many hearts were broken the day you went to heaven. Many people hurt today because many people love you.

Sometimes my own heart feels overwhelmed by how much I love you. Perhaps my whole purpose in being your mommy was to show you what it means to be love. I think that I loved you even before you came into existance. The first moment I saw you, you were loved. When we brought you home and the kids gathered around for their first glimpse of you, you were loved. All those nights of sitting and rocking you in the chair, I love you. It was because you were loved that you endured surgery on your tiny little heart. Out of love, we sang to you and read books to you and danced with you in our arms. Love bathed you and dressed you and combed your hair. It was with love that I made your large bowl of rice cereal and strawberries every morning. Love was with you when you wandered out of sight and into the pool. It was love that tried to breathe life back into you and every compression upon your chest was filled with love. Love followed behind the ambulance. A multitude of love fell upon knees of prayer for you that night. Tears of love fell upon your silent, peaceful face. Love went with you when your body was placed beneath the earth and love said good bye one last time. Because of this great love, pain is etched into our souls. Love remembers the way you smell, the sound of your laughter and the light of your smile. Love both laughs and cries at your memory. For two years, love has remained and has not diminished. Out of love, we ache for you and long for heaven. From the very beginning, til the very end, and far, far beyond, you are loved. Love never fails, love never ends. Forever Love.

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH
BABY GIRL

Life Is Not Fair.

2011-09-06T19:05:00.000-07:00

It seems unfair that Laynee died on a holiday. Not only was it a holiday but it was a holiday that does not fall on the same day of the month each year. So it is that the calendar has us remembering the anniversary of her death, not once but twice.

It is obvious by the content of the cards and emails that we have received, most people connect Laynee's accident to Labor Day. And they are right. They are absolutely right. I was constantly reminded of that dreadful day yesterday. As evening came upon us, I found myself reliving the horror of that Labor Day two years ago. Sadness settled around me and devastation took my breath away. As I stepped into the shower last night I had a sudden memory of doing that same thing late at night on Labor Day '09. I recall thinking how inane the concept of showering was in the face of my daughter's death. The duties and activities of life had lost meaning and significance in the span of one nightmarish evening.

Today I spent the day suspended somewhere between remembering the day after she died and the day before she died. In essence, today is both. It is the day after Labor Day but also the day before her Heaven Day. The seventh of each month always brings painful memories. With or without Labor Day, Laynee left us on September 7th. It was that day, sometime between 6:15 pm and 7:25 pm that our life became divided into "before" and "after."

This matter is trivial. I know that. Still, somehow it feels like another twist of the knife in my already wounded and hurting soul. Whenever I think of something being unfair, I am reminded of the words of one of my college instructors. The words were spoken many years ago, but left a lasting impact within my 19 year old mind and it rings clear to me today. She said "Life is not fair, but life will go on." When I ponder the idea of something being unfair, I look to the cross and there I find proof that, indeed ..........Life is not fair.

The problem of expecting to live in a perfectly fair world

is that there is no grace in that world,

for grace is grace, only when it is undeserved.

Jerry Sittser, A Grace Disguised

A Story Without End

2011-09-05T19:22:00.000-07:00

It seems my life is filled with wishing these days. Wishing is good but not when the wishes we wish are impossible. I wish that things were different, that I could change the way things are. I wish that I could turn back the hands of time and do Labor Day 2009 all over again.

Where Laynee is concerned, there is no end to the things that I wish for but lately it seems that one of the things I wish for most is that I could lay beside her in what would be a big girl bed by now and tell her stories. I can only imagine how nice it would feel to have her tucked into the crook of my arm as I tell her stories. She would smell like lotion and powder from her bath. The sound of my voice and my continuous stroking over her hair would lull her into a deep slumber. I would not take for granted,the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes deep.

Tonight as I was walking with Moise it occurred to me that if I could tell her a story tonight it would go something like this:

Once upon a time there was a mommy. When this mommy was younger, she always wanted to have 6 children but she only had 4. Then a little boy came and she became his mommy. This little boy caused a lot of work for the mommy and she didn't think too much about having 6 children anymore. Even though she didn't think about having more children, she always felt like something was missing or incomplete. This mommy didn't know it, but she needed another little girl, a very special little girl. Then one day, when it was very cold outside, a little girl was born and this mommy, who needed another little girl, became her mommy. The little girl was happy and so beautiful. In fact, she was the prettiest little girl in the whole wide world. The little girl made the mommy and the daddy and the brothers and sisters very happy. She was funny and made her family laugh all the time. The mommy thought her family was complete with all of the 6 children. But one day, angels came and took the beautiful little girl to heaven. Just like that the little girl went away from the mommy. Just like that, the family was incomplete once again. The mommy was so very sad, she missed the little girl so much. She knew where the little girl was, but she couldn't see her or hear her. She ws sad because there is something missing again. The mommy knows that now it will be imcomplete for a very long time. No matter what, if her children get married, even if she becomes a grandma, there will always be something missing without the prettiest little girl. But someday, when the mommy gets to heaven, it will all be complete again. Someday the mommy and the pretty little girl, and the daddy and brothers and sisters are going to live happily ever after. This story is a special story because it does not say "The End" It does not end until the mommy gets to see the little girl in heaven and then.........it will be the beginning.

Final Days

2011-08-30T06:03:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, as I checked the 10 day forecast, I received a hard kick to the middle. Ten days takes us to September 7th. My mind traveled back two years, trying desperately to remember the details of the last ten days. Panic grips me as I realize that I can't remember. I know nearly every detail of her last three days. But ten?? I don't know how her final ten days with us were spent.

I can remember a few things that I know happened. One afternoon she had what appeared to be a stomach virus. Grant and I had taken her to Walmart and I had just begun to put things in our cart when she grew pale and started coughing a little as though she would retch. We immediately left the store, groceries could wait. As I carried her to the car I heard the rumbling of her intestines and though she did not retch, what came out the other end was not pleasant. Later that evening we chuckled as she stood, legs apart, with a bewildered look on her face as her intestines worked again. I know that I called one of my young employees and she agreed to cover the coffee shop while I stayed home and enjoyed some rare moments of Laynee sitting still and snuggling on my lap. I also know that on Monday, 7 days before she left us, she dazzled everyone at a cross country meet. Her final three days are memorable because they were out of the ordinary, a weekend get away. I will forever be grateful for how clearly those days are etched into the pages of my memory.

I wish that I could say that on this day two years ago we did this or that. But I can't. We were busy living, never imagining for a fraction of a second that we did not have many more days with her. We lived and I know that we loved but those are only generalities. I can't recall if we danced in the kitchen, how many times we walked over to see the hee hee's, or if she stuck her tongue on the mirror in her froggy book. It seems absurd, hideous, inexcusable that I cannot recall the last ten days of her short little life.

"Just Away"

2011-08-28T06:17:00.000-07:00

Last week we moved our first child, Jamee, into her dorm at Saint Louis University, where she begins a new, exciting and maybe a little scary chapter in her life.   She will be studying Nuclear Medicine Technology and will be running with the SLU Billikens' Cross Country and Track teams. We've had a few teary phone calls from her, as we knew we would. Stepping out of the safe, secure bubble that is Tremont, Illinois, where family resides at nearly every corner, will not be easy.

As her mother, it is difficult to be away from her. I want everything to be smooth sailing and easy, though I know that wouldn't really be best. I want to take all of her fears and uncertainties and cast them out the window. Unrealistic as it may be, I want to know that everything is going to be perfect for her. It is painful, yet beneath all of the emotions, I know that all of this is normal. As parents, we spend 18 years preparing our children for such a time as this. We teach values and responsibility so that one day they are capable of leaving home and surviving without our constant supervision.

After Laynee died we received several cards that had the quote "she is just away." With no disrespect to anyone who may have sent these cards, I must say that this was not my favorite thing to read. I understand that this refers to our loved ones being in heaven where they are not gone from us forever. It refers to the hope we have through salvation. Knowing that those cards of purest motive, I still could never feel comfortable with those words. Jamee is "just away" Laynee is not.

In contrast to the way that Laynee left us, Jamee's leaving home is natural and even expected. It is what we want for our children. Every young person chooses a different course after they graduate from high school. Jamee's course has taken her two hours from home. We spent several days preparing her for this move.   Now that she is there, we support her in whatever ways that we can. We can sense how and when she needs us and act accordingly. I can hear her voice, talk to her on the phone and in the span of one conversation, hear the apprehension in her voice turn to the strength that we know Jamee possesses. I can encourage her and tell her that as she makes new friends it will get better and she will feel less alone.   Always I know that if she really needs me, I can be there for her in 2 hours. With today's technology I can skype and see her beautiful face. In seconds, I can send words of encouragement via text message. Care packages will be sent to brighten her day and remind her that she is dearly loved. While I know all too well that life can be taken in a moment, as long as there is breath, there is hope that I will see her, touch her, embrace her again very soon. Thanksgiving and Christmas will not be lonely without her, for she will be with us. I can hear my name come from her lips and speak her name directly to her. I don't have to wonder what she is doing in her new home because she can tell me. I knew that yesterday she ran for time, she met one on one with her coach. Last night she went to her first soccer game. Today she is attending church with our very dear friend. I know all of these things because she is just away. She is growing and learning from this experience. She will face many difficult days and sometimes there will be tears but she will mature in them. In the meantime, I pray with a constant fervor, asking my Lord Jesus to hold her close to him, to guide her footsteps and her heart. I rejoice when I hear her say that she has spent much time in God's Word and that she appreciates her family so much. I know by what she tells me that, already, she is being a shining light for Jesus through her actions and her choices. I know that she is just away.

Perhaps all of this can be summed up by simply saying that because she is "just away" she still needs me. For two years my soul has writhed against the lack of being needed by my beautiful little girl. To send my child to college is part of the natural, onward progression of life. To bury my child is utterly unnatural, an antithesis to the way things should be.  Jalayne has gone to where I am not needed. I cannot hear her voice, see her smile or pray that she makes good choices. I cannot do anything that a mother does for her child because she is not "just away"

Friends With History

2011-08-14T20:33:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I had the beautiful oppurtunity to spend the day with one of my dearest friends. Rachel and I became friends years ago when we were first married. Jim and I, Rachel and her husband, Glenn, and 4 other couples that attended church together formed a group that we referred to as our "Potluck Group." On a regular basis we would take turns hosting the other couple at our homes for a potluck dinner. The frequency with which we were together built lasting friendships. Together we learned the art of cooking, often among some rather comical "flops."   Given the personilities of the men in our group, one thing was always a guarantee......laughter.  We shared countless hilarious moments and made priceless memories.

This group is and always will be special as they are a very important part of the early years of our marriage. All 6 couples were married around the same time and are close in age. We were there for each other during job changes, home relocation, pregnancies and raising of our children.   Most of all, we shared a deep faith in our Lord Jesus.

  In addition to much fun, laughter and faith, we shared in each others struggles.   As I look back, I stand in awe of the depth of struggles that we shared in a few short years, all before any of us ever reached our thirties. We rallied around Tim and Ruth when 2 year old, Levi, suffered a heart attack and was diagnosed with Kawasakis Disease. We wept with Doug and Jill as they experienced multiple miscarriages and then rejoiced when they carried and delivered healthy twin boys. We cheered Kevin and Jody through months of bed rest to deliver their own healthy twin girls. Though at a loss for words, we quietly lifted up Glenn and Rachel, with love and prayers when they said good bye to their beautiful Clark at just 3 days old. Jim and I felt the love and support of all these dear friends when Moise came into our lives, through his illness and later his devastating diagnosis of Cytomegalovirus. As a whole, we took some mighty bumps and bruises together. We weathered some of lifes greatest storm being lifted up by each other's prayers.

Our special little group began to break up as first, Glenn and Rachel took a job and moved to Minnesota. Soon after, Doug and Jill found employment and moved to Arizona. The marriage of the sixth couple in our group, sadly, ended in divorce. Life happened and our little group was no longer a group, but the love and memories and fondness that we feel for one another remains.

Every time I was pregnant, Rachel was pregnant also and we waddled through it together.   Her Clark was born weeks after Brock and my heart could not imagine the pain of losing a child. We sent our children to kindergarten together and now we are sending them to college. On Saturday, together, we walked through the cemetary which holds the bodies of both of our babies.   Together we stood there looking at the names on the markers....Clark Eward Steiner would be 13 and Jalayne Grace Holmes would be 4.

I have other friends who have lost children, but with Rachel it is different. I was there when Rachel's baby died. I saw her grief and sorrow and sadness. I remember feeling sad when we were together and Brock was growing, healthy and happy, while her heart was broken. I remember her telling me how her arms ached to hold her baby. I was a part of her history and she is a part of mine. Though I do not remember much of the days after Laynee's accident, I do know that Rachel called me from her home in Minnesota. I have no idea what was said, only that I heard her voice. The next day, all the way from Minnesota, Rachel was here.

Rachel and I do not pretend to know exactly what the other has experienced. I have no clue what it's like to never bring my newborn home from the hospital, she has no idea what it's like to have a 2 year old taken. However, both of us know the true meaning of the word devastation. We know what it is to have God say "no" to the greatest pleading of our souls. We both feel deep longing for heaven and that day we will hold our babies again.  Rachel did not flinch as I shared my heart with her, telling of the areas in which my faith has faltered in this current storm.

I only have the pleasure of seeing Rachel about once a year. When I see her, the time and distance between us melts away in one single heartbeat. I have many dear friends whom I love and cherish but there is something different and irreplacable about a friend with whom history is made.

Forget Her Not

2011-08-08T00:38:00.000-07:00

Tonight the pain and sadness of missing my little girl weigh even heavier upon me than usual. Sleep evades me as my thoughts keep returning to her and the wide, cavernous hole that remains in her abscence.   I have no explanation for nights such as this and have long ago quit trying to figure out why some days or nights are more painful than others. Tonight it could be the date, yesterday marked another month without her. It could be that today was a particularly trying day where Moise is concerned and I miss the peace and contentment that holding her always brought to me at the end of days such as this. A host of other things could be contributing to tonight's sadness or it could be, and most likely IS, simply that this is just the way it will be. Some nights the pain will cut deeper than other nights.

As I lay awake tonight I kept thinking one particular thought, which came to me yesterday as we stood in the line waiting for our final run, as a group, at the St Jude Benefit. There were so many people there, all for one purpose. Yet, in my soul, I knew that there were those among us whose passion for this effort runs deeper than anyone could ever imagine. These were the parents whose children have fought and suffered because of childhood cancer. They are parents who raise their fists in protest at the ugliness of child illness and death. Some of these parents probably knew victory over this disease in their child's life and want other parents to know that same victory. Others are left with that ever present hole and recoil at the thought of any other parent living with the same grief. Regardless of the circumstances, those parents were there, I just didn't know which ones they were. The stories of heartache were written on the hearts of many but I didn't know those stories. In the same way, there were few among the thousands that could possibly know that, while I cannot begin to understand the pain of watching my child suffer, I do know the grief of saying good bye far too soon.  I spent the entire day running alongside of people who had no idea that we have lost a child.

Laynee's is a story that, as time goes on, will be told with less and less frequency.   As new events and experiences fill up our lives and ultimately, identify us, Jalayne Grace Holmes and her memory will begin to fade into history. New acquaintances may never know that we have 6 children, 3 daughters, a little girl with Down Syndrome or that we have a child, our daughter and sister, who died suddenly and tragically. I suspect that, even now, there are people with whom I work, those I did not know until this year, who do not know about Laynee. As Jamee begins to enter into the college phase of her life, most of the people she comes in contact with will never know the story of her littlest sister. As I have accompanied her to meet with some of her potential college advisors, I have heard her tell, when asked, that she has 5 siblings. The rest of the story remains untold. As a general rule, in everyday conversation, we do not make a point to tell others about this pain of ours. So it is, that as we move along with the steady progression of life, Laynee's impact on this world will become lessened.

While those close to us, perhaps even all who faithfully read here, will never forget that Jalayne was and is a huge part of our life, there are those who will forget. Though it seems impossible that anyone, regardless to what capacity they know us, could forget such an event, my eyes were opened to this probability a few months ago. In December, I wrote a post about the foster child that lived and died with us when I was a teen. After writing that post, I was amazed by the number of people who told me, "I had forgotten about that," still more people never knew about it. This has been a heavy reality for me ever since. My mind cannot fathom that anyone who knew even a glimmer of my little girl, could forget her. However, I suspect that somewhere, sometime, somehow, someone will forget.

I know that, in the big picture, this really does not matter. Laynee has and will continue to touch each and every life that she was meant to touch. The fact that some may forget or never know about her does not make her short life any less meaningful. Those who love and support us will never forget. I know that with absolute certainty. Perhaps the thing that bothers me most about this is knowing that anyone who does not know about the priceless treasure of Jalayne's life or our horrific encounter with grief, can never truly know our hearts. While I do not want to be forever remembered as "the one who's child drowned," neither do I want anyone to forget her. I want everyone to remember, to treasure, to cherish her.

                        Please do not forget the prettiest girl

her pure love

her complete happiness

her utter joy

her perfect simplicity

her stunning beauty

REMEMBER HER ALWAYS

St Jude

2011-08-05T11:40:00.000-07:00

Please pray for Jamee and I and the many other St Jude runners that will be running this weekend. We will be running tomorrow but many are already running, some coming all the way from Memphis, TN. All runners will be coming into Peoria tomorrow afternoon. Memphis is expected to arrive sometime around 5pm. Pray for safety on the roads and in the heat. Most of all, pray for the St Jude children and their families, those who have fought and won, those who fought and are now in heaven, and those who are still fighting.

Jamee and I will personally be keeping Nicholaus, Lexi, Brock, and Jada close to our hearts. And though I have never met them, I will also be thinking of Zoey and Emily, who have fought and thus far, been triumphant over childhood cancer.

Love and Blessings to all

It Goes Without Saying.....

2011-08-01T19:43:00.000-07:00

Nothing will ever be the same, ever

Love you, sweet baby.

Prayers for Tripp

2011-07-23T20:25:00.000-07:00

Over the course of the time that I have been blogging, I have made countless friends in fellow bloggers. Many of these friends are those who have lost children, others are mothers of special needs children, some have experienced both. I need both of these groups of women. Somehow, in sharing the joys and struggles that we all face, the path that life has taken me on seems a little less lonely.

Today, through one of my blogger friends, I have become aware of a young child and his family who are walking a very diffiuclt path at this very moment. Little Tripp suffers from Epidermolysis Bullosa or EB. I have read of other children with EB and know that it is a disease that causes suffering that is beyond comprehension. Today Tripp's mother, Courtney, is faced with the very real probability that life's natural cycle will be interuppted and she will outlive her son. Tripp's story, his joy in the face of great adversity, and Courtney's positive outlook, have touched me at the very core of my being. Please join me in lifting up this little family to our Father in prayer. You can read Tripp's Story here.

Laynee's World

2011-07-10T12:59:00.000-07:00

We spent a quiet Saturday evening at home. It seems like a long time since we've had one of those and I so enjoyed it. I took a walk around the yard and, not for the first time, was reminded of Laynee nearly everywhere I looked. This was her world. She owned this place, the land and everything on it, and she loved every bit of it. With aching heart, I smiled to think of how she would positively be in her element this time of year.

Her cows or "mmmms" were up close, munching contentedly on grass and looking at me as if I'd invaded their territory. I cannot look at them without seeing her sweet wonder at these animals. Her dedicated observation of them was tireless. How I loved to see her precious upturned face with lips pursed together in a mmmm sound as her chubby little fingers pointed them out to me as if maybe I didn't see them. The memory, though painful, is priceless and I thank my God for the presevation of every such memory of her.

The sky was beautiful, and doubly so as it refelected off the water. I was struck by the fact that there was once a time, not so long ago, that the evening sky was something that I took for granted. Now, this is the time of day when she feels closest to me and it is because of that beautiful sky and the colors that so remind me of her.

The willow trees that her daddy planted and is so proud of truly seem to weep. They've grown immensely in the last two years. Their weeping........well.....it's just so appropriate.

Jim, Brock and Moise came out to feed the fish and it hurt knowing that she should be with them. The fish create quite a stir when fed and she would have been in absolute awe of this. Later they got out the fishing pole and reeled in a few catfish, another event that would have left her eyes round with excitement. Her abscense seems to loom over us at times, last night was one of those times.

After years of failed attempts at starting a patch of wildflowers, Jamee has finally succeeded. Undoubtedly, Miss Laynee would be driving her sister crazy with picking all of the flowers.

Her swing still hangs from our swing set, a reminder of a little girl who loved and laughed nearly every single moment of her too short life. I should take the swing down, I know I should. But not yet.

And Laynee's garden? There simply are no words. I am pleasantly surprised by how all of plants are thriving. It will be no time at all and her garden will be completely filled with brightly colored flowers. There is still work to be done, the border for the walkways in the garden need to be replaced with a more suitable border stone than what is currently there. I plan to hire someone to do this in the fall. The spaces between the pavers need to be filled with dirt so that we can plant a ground cover. Some of the plants are planted too close together to accomodate for their rapid growth. This is simply a matter of moving them to a different spot once they are finished blooming.

When we had the idea to put a garden where the pool was, I admit that, at the time, it was mostly a way to fill the space left by the pool. I had no way of knowing the deep sense of comfort and peace her garden would bring to me. It is here that I feel closest to my sweet little girl. It hurts, but I have learned that there are different types of hurts. There are good hurts and bad hurts. The feeling that comes to me in her garden is, in a sense, hurtful but, at the same time, peaceful and appropriate. It is the hurt of grief and somehow, I suppose, that there is healing in the hurting. Every item in her garden is meaningful. I know from whom each plant was given and I know that every plant is a legacy of the love that she showed to all who knew her. It is impossible to be in her garden without the awareness that this is the place where Laynee left us. At the same time, I stand in awe of the knowledge, that it is here, in this very spot, that my daughter saw her Jesus for the first time. It is because of this that her garden feels sacred.

The pictures (especially taken in the eveing) cannot begin to do justice to the beauty of her garden.

They cannot capture the love and peace and hope that is there.

The bench below, which was donated by my siblings,

sits beneath a weeping cherry tree that was

donated to us by the girl's cross country teams

via gift card.

Why am I discouraged?

Why is my heart so sad?

I will put my hope in God!

I will praise him again--my Savior and my God!

Psalm 43:5 (NLT)

Overwhelmed

2011-07-07T20:25:00.000-07:00

So often I find myself feeling overwhelmed by the enormity of grief. The finality of death and the permanency of sorrow, together, make this load almost unbearable at times.

Today at work I documented the date countless times. With each patient that I saw, I wrote 7/7/11. With each scratch of those numbers I was struck, not so much by the date, but by the continued intensity of pain 22 months after our Laynee was taken from us.   It continues to take my breath away.

As I think back on the first year, I recall the words of many who seemed to believe that the first year would be the most difficult. They were wrong. This second year has been every bit as painful but there is one major difference. There is not as much freedom to express the pain. People assume that the pain is lessened and that we have "moved on." The prayers have lessened (we can sense that) and the enemy of souls has attacked in mighty ways in this second year. In recent weeks and months I have had oppurtunity to talk to a few mothers who have lost children years ago. These women do not tell me that the pain gets better after the first year. They tell me the truth, that after 12 years, 25 years, 31 years the pain continues. They tell me that every single day they remember, they hurt, they long for their child.

Most days I still open my eyes to the morning light feeling as though the weight of the world rests upon my shoulders. I still want her back..... every single day I want my baby girl back and still, my mind cannot wrap around the reality that I can't get her back. Tonight as I was driving home I looked to the sky, knowing that she's there and I'm here and I want her here or I want to be there and "Please Lord, just another day with her, let me see her just one more time.

Death is forever and grief is for always.  It's not getting better and it's not going to get better.   I am overwhelmed with knowing that I will hurt for the rest of my life. Every day I wonder if I'm really going to make it through this.

Psalm 13:1-2

How long wilt thou forget me, O LORD? for ever?

how long wilt thou hide thy face from me?

How long shall I take counsel in my soul,

having sorrow in my heart daily?

Fourth of July

2011-07-04T20:01:00.000-07:00

Happy Fourth of July sweet Laynee Bug. I missed you so much this weekend. I know that you would have loved camping with us. As we watched fireworkds my arms ached to have you sitting in my chair with me. I know your eyes would have been huge from all of the loud bangs and lit up with the bright lights. I would have suggled you close as we watched.

The sky was beautiful as we waited for the fireworks. There were pink and purple streaks all across the sky. I know you were there with us, somewhere in those pink clouds. Mommy's heart hurts for you tonight baby girl.

I Love You so much Laynee Grace.

It's Official

2011-06-22T16:55:00.000-07:00

I have officially committed to being a St Jude Runner. This year our little community has joined together to form a team of Tremont to Peoria Runners. Jamee committed to it a while ago and Jade had wanted to run as well. However, there is a strict minimum age requirement of 16 so Jade will have to wait for next year. If Jade does run next year I will have to run with her as anyone under 18 must be accompanied by a parent. I've put off committing this year, not knowing if I am really capable of doing this. But alas.......the fundraising letters are typed and on their way so there is no backing out now. Here is a copy of the letter

Dear Friends and Family,

For the first time, our family has decided to join in the effort of fundraising for the children of St. Jude. Karol and Jamee will be joining a team of runners in “Jog for Jada” the first Tremont to Peoria run. To date, St Jude runners have raised $22.7 million. This is an astounding number with 100% of every dollar going toward the research, treatment, and care of childhood cancer.

Childhood cancer first left an impact on Jamee’s life when, in kindergarten, her little friend, Nicholaus, lost his battle with the disease. A few years later, Lexi, another child from our school also died of cancer. Brock, a student just 2 years younger than Jamee, has also battled this mighty disease. Most recently, in January of this year, Jada, 5 year old daughter of Jamee’s youth pastor was diagnosed of Clear Cell Sarcoma of the Kidney and began her battle against cancer.

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

Karol and Jamee are looking forward to joining the many other St Jude runners in the race against cancer on Saturday, August 6th. We will begin running in Tremont and will run the 35 miles of 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.

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.stjuderuns.org/kjholmes.

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 and Jamee Holmes

Father's Day

2011-06-19T08:41:00.000-07:00

Dear Laynee Grace,

It's Father's Day today and days like this make your abscence seem very loud and evident. There is a hole here on Father's Day because daddy's littlest girl isn't here. Your daddy is pretty quite about how much he misses you. He works alot and that helps him keep his mind busy but it doesn't make the hurting stop.

On Friday we all went and picked out a new chair for daddy's office. You would have had so much fun trying out all the chairs in the store. I was a little sad thinking about a new chair because I miss seeing you sitting on daddy's lap at the computer. Daddy was always the only one who could get you to sit still for a few minutes.

Daddy made a pyramid with three of you pictures on it that he hangs from his mirror in his truck. He sees it wherever he goes to work each day.

Each time I go into daddy's shed I see your jacket that he hung on the bulletin board. Daddy was a little frustrated with you that day when you got into his oil bucket but now he keeps that oil stained jacket where he can see it everyday. It reminds us that life is precious, life is fragile, life is shorter than any of us know.

I miss seeing you run to the door to see him each day and crying when he left without you. This morning as I remembered that silly, loud greeting he always had for you, my heart squeezed so tight. I want to hear that again but I know it would not be right for anyone but Daddy's Laynee. Daddy thought you were so very pretty and he still does. Whenever we talk about you he always says "she's so pretty." And you are, the prettiest girl ever.
I love you sweet Laynee girl. Watch over your daddy extra close today. His heart hurts for you

Summer and Sorrow

2011-06-10T20:35:00.000-07:00

In respect to summer, I find myself in a place that I have been many times in the ebb and flow of this seemingly endless grief journey. It is a place wherein the heart, soul and mind meet in quiet resignation of what is and will forever be. I accept that, for the rest of time, summer will bring a sense of sorrow.

Summer, being Laynee's final season on earth, was the time in which we loved most and lost most. That summer, as her beautiufl personality began to shine through, we delighted in her every moment. We loved her like crazy. Then, that same summer became the time when our grief journey began. Our clearest and fondest memories of her were during that final summer. Likewise, our most tragic moments are forever stamped upon the pages of summer memories.

I know, understand and accept that I will never again look out the window to see the vivid green of summer trees and grass serving as a backdrop for Jim's walk around the lake, without wishing that our little girl was holding his hand. The smell of the fresh lake water will forever bring to mind golf cart rides with her beside me. Every time I get on my bike I will recall that my time with her in her bike seat was cut tragically short. When I hoe my garden or work in the flower beds, I will always feel a sense of longing for my little girl who should be there to help me. I miss the sweet combined scent of little girl and the great outdoors. I miss the sound of her wailing because someone went outside without her. Lady bugs crawling upon blades of grass, stir up a deep need to see my Laynee Bug. The brilliant colors of summer...... the blue sky, the fluffy white clouds, the rainbow of flowers......will always remind me of her unrivaled zest for life.

Even as summer is reminiscient of days when we loved her so much, it reminds us of the time when we lost so much. The crystal clear blue of a swimming pool and the clean scent of chlorine will forever bring haunting memories of her lifeless form beneath the solar blanket. The once simple task of washing the car will always bring a sharp pang of regret as I recall the mistakes that were made that day as Jamee and I washed our cars. Today as I was working in the yard, with children playing nearby, I heard the words "COME ON." Words, so simple, so ordinary, yet etched upon the pages of my mind. With those words came a moment of reliving, of being transported back in time, when the words "COME ON, LAYNE" were followed by life's greatest mistakes and ensueing nightmare. The sights and smells of summer usher in a deep desire to go back and change that which cannot be changed.
Though I do not like that this wondrous season is now viewed through the lens of grief and tragedy, I know and accept that it is so. While tragedy has not robbed us of love and laughter, the new reality is that summer and sorrow go together.

On Forgiveness

2011-06-02T21:06:00.000-07:00

The concept of forgiveness is one that is confusing to many.    Most of us have long ago given up the idea of "forgive and forget." In truth, without even being consciously aware of it, we may "forgive and forget" multiple times during any given day. Small offenses are easy to forgive. We accept that as human beings, others will fail us. We acknowledge small mistakes or offenses, shrug them off, and move on, knowing that we live in a fallen world. But what about those things that are not so easily forgotten, that wound us to our very soul and stay with us forever? How does one know if they have truly forgiven?

It is my experience that there are no lightening bolt moments of forgiveness. We do not wake up one day with a sudden awareness that we have forgiven someone for a particular deed. Forgiveness is not an emotion, it is a decision.. In John 8 Jesus makes a decision to forgive the woman taken in adultery.  Likewise, in Mark 2 He decides to forgive the paralytic. Jesus forgiveness was not based on emotion, they were decisions made quickly and with great assurance. Because reality is that there are some things that the human mind cannot forget, for some offenses we must make the decision to forgive over and over again. If we are deeply hurt or betrayed by someone, either by acts of commission or acts of omission, every time we see that person we will be reminded of said betrayal and choose, again, to forgive. In Luke 23, Jesus spoke the greatest words of forgiveness of all time "Father, forgive them for the know not what they are doing." He wasn't likely to forget the torture that he was subjected to but he chose to intercede and forgive them.

Forgiveness, in most cases, is more beneficial to the the forgiver than for the forgiven. Often, those who hurt us are not even aware that they have hurt us. Others are aware of their actions, but do not seek forgiveness.  We are not called to forgive only those who ask for our forgiveness but any who offends us. An unforgiving heart is a breeding ground for anger and bitterness.

It is my experience that forgiveness is characterized by abscence. As we make the choice to forgive, we begin to notice that our desire to strike back or retaliate has been removed. We are freed of resentment and hostility. We no longer have the intense longing to understand those things which we cannot comprehend. With forgiveness, the anxious writhing within the soul begins to cease and we find that there is simply nothing left to be said.

We often hear that it is more diffiult to forgive ourselves than to forgive others. There is nowhere in the scripture that we are commanded to forgive ourselves.  Christ already did this for us. We do not need to forgive ourselves, we only need to accept that we have been forgiven, that the price for our sins was paid on the cross. Every evening, as I close my eyes and the images of her death play over in my mind, I choose to remember that I am forgiven. Upon seeing a child that reminds me of her and brings renewed regret, I know that I am forgiven . As I work in her garden, pruning flowers instead of wiping dirty little hands as I so long to do, I accept that Christ already forgave me. I hurt.... I ache for her..... I wish that I could have a second chance.... I long to turn back the hands of time......but since I cannot, I accept the shed blood of Jesus.

I have struggled with the question "Is it possible to forgive God?"  At surface level, the question seems absurd.   God is perfect and without sin, he makes no mistakes. How then can there be a need to forgive him? The answer is that God is in need of nothing, least of all our forgiveness. Forgiving God is not for him but for the health of our own souls. It is not only possible to forgive God, it is pertinent.

2011-05-30T09:48:00.000-07:00

Remembering and missing my prettiest, today and every day.

I Love You Laynee Grace

Jalayne Grace Holmes Memorial Scholarship

2011-05-26T13:49:00.000-07:00

To the world you may be one person

but to one person you may be the world

I am a bit late in posting this as Jalayne's first scholarship was awarded a few weeks ago. Still, this is a good place to remember the recipients and why they were chosen.

Quite some time ago we decided to put together a memorial scholarship in Laynee's memory. We wanted this scholarship to be different than most of those awarded at our school. We did not want the recipient to be chosen because of their grade point average or athletic ability. We established a list of criteria for the applicants and asked that a group of teachers nominate students based on the criteria. The criteria was that they be students who were outstanding role models, have positive attitudes, have displayed an extraordianary sense of compassion and service to others. Six students were selected and then asked to write an essay on the "your attitude toward the word retard as used in name calling" The essays were submitted to us anonymously.

All of the essay were excellent but there was one that stood out among them. This student closed his essay with these very profound words: "it seems they (persons with cognitve impairments) are without sin and only want to please. Imagine how much better our world would be if everyone had a heart so great as theirs. Perhaps the next time someone calls you a "retard" you should take it as a compliment and say "thank you."

Our pupose behind this scholarship is, of course to keep Laynee's memory alive. But also, to raise awareness of the offensive nature of the misuse of the word, a subject our family is passionate about. On the evening of the award presentation, I explained that the word "retarded" in the medical world simply means to be delayed or slowed in cognitive development. Our society has corrupted this word and when used in a negative or deragatory manner it dehumanizes some of the most innocent people in the world. I explained that, to hear this word used in name calling, is extremely offensive and distasteful to our family.

I suspect that many who were present that evening had never really thought about how hurtful this word is. The word has been so misused that most use it out of ignorance. Since Jamee is a part of this graduating class, many of those present were her friends. I hope that when that word comes to mind, they will stop to remember, before it slips from their tongue, that it is a slam to Jamee's brother and sister. Will Laynee's scholarship make a difference to even one? I cannot say for sure. We are only one small community. However, I do know that if they weren't already, everyone present that night is now aware that this word is terribly misused. They cannot pretend that they do not know. Maybe.........just maybe.........a few of them, upon hearing the word come from another's tongue, will tell of a little girl named Jalayne and how that word is a criticism to her.

Laynee's first scholarship went to a young man who is planning to attend Eureka college. At this time he is unsure of his major. Congratulation Patrick Simms. Make us all proud and remember .....

"Success without compassion is useless."

Summer's First Tragedy

2011-05-22T17:31:00.000-07:00

As summer makes it's appearance in warm weather and sunshine, I've seen evidence of many people who are opening their pools for the season. When I see this I am reminded that it's almost inevitable, there are children who will drown in pools this summer. I see pools that are not fenced and ladders leaning up against above ground pools, and I know that somewhere, somehow a mother, a father, or other caregiver will, in their humanness, lose sight of their children for just a moment. I know also that for some that very human mistake will be fatal.

As Jim read this evenings news, he found that just a few miles from us, a family is living every parents nightmare. A three year old drowned in his family's backyard pool. My heart aches for the pain, the sorrow, the horror that this family will endure. I know that within the last few hours a mother or father has been thrust into a path that they did not choose. They will never be the same as they were when they woke this morning. Their world has crashed around them and there is vacancy in their hearts that can never be filled. They will weep, they will mourn, they will lament and I pray that they will cling to a God whose ways are higher than our own.

Please lift them up in prayer.

Mother's Day

2011-05-08T20:13:00.000-07:00

As I awoke this morning and the fuzziness of sleep cleared from my mind, I was greeted with the too familiar heaviness of knowing my baby is still gone. Lying there in the silence, I realized that it is Mother's Day. I am mother of 6 but only 5 are here with me on this earth. The sorrow that has been my constant companion for 20 months and one day, is there because I am mother to a child in heaven. It is a truth that still manages to snatch the air from my lungs.

I opened my eyes, staring up at the ceiling and feeling the sting of our reality, and my eyes caught sight of something new. Just yesterday, I had words painted above my bed to bring strength for each new day. Every morning since Laynee's accident has been much the same. Reality of her abscence slams into me like a crushing, mighty wave. The force is especially great on special days, like today. This morning, these words did not replace the hurt but they did remind me that there is a purpose far greater than what I can understand. I have a God who asks nothing more of me than that I trust him, with my heart.......with my life......with my precious child.

Although the emptiness of missing her is ever present, I have learned to go on, to enjoy life, to live and love in spite of the pain. Mother's Day was wonderful. It started out a bit rough with Moise having some issues that are very uniquely Moise. The girls went to the grocery store for groceries for the Mother's Day dinner they had planned. They also presented me with a Mocha Coconut Frappacino from Starbucks, which I enjoyed out on the deck. They (mainly Jade) fixed dinner and Jim grilled rib eyes. Grant gave me an assortment of delightful scents from Bath and Body. Brock gave me a sweet Mother's Day letter.

We spent the afternoon and evening outside, enjoying the fact that spring has actually arrived. The wild flowers were beatiful and my heart squeezed as I pictured a little four year old picking them and bringing them to me in her pudgy little fists. I was also quite enthralled by the masses of toads and frogs in our lake. Apparently it is mating season as there are hundreds of them and they are very loud. Jim and I enjoyed a long walk together as well.

At the close of this day, Mother's Day, another day without her I marvel at the fact that somehow we carry on. She was never out of my mind today. I miss her with every beat of my heart but I cling desperately to the knowledge that my God is God.

A few pictures of our day outdoors, right here at home. My favorite place in all the earth.

Geese have taken up residence on our lake

Enjoying time near the lake with

my firstborn, the one who

first made me a mother

I confess to being a little overly

enthralled with the frogs and toads on our

lake. I have many more photos but will

post them on my other blog. They

truly are fascinating.

http://www.theholmeshome8.blogspot.com/

If blossoms are an indication, come fall

we should have quite a few of our own apples

My farmer brother likely does not appreciate the scene

below as I do. He would call them weeds. But for

today, with the sun setting behind them, these little

spreading purple flowers were beautiful

How could I not have a wonderful Mother's Day with

this kind of happiness around me?

LOVE this little boy so much

Happy Mother's Day to all

Easter

2011-04-23T05:45:00.000-07:00

It's Easter and I have spent the last several days pondering the gift of salvation, the sacrifice paid for mankind. Yet, even as my heart is filled with wonder and awe, the pain of Laynee's abscence has once again crashed into me like a mighty blow. It seems that holidays have the effect of a double edged sword, bringing joy to one part of my heart and deep, searing sadness to another part. Once again, I wonder how it is that there is room for so much within one soul.

It has occurred to me that this is our first "normal" Easter without Laynee. Last year we spent the holiday on the beach, away from the usual activities of this sacred holiday. There were no expectations of any of us, no Easter baskets or egg hunts to serve as a reminder of what has been taken from us. But alas, life goes on, a year has past, and here we are.........still without her and still missing her. Dare I say that it seems that some have forgotten or, at the very least, have no clue how painful a holiday is without the ones we love.

My senses have been heightened lately to the reminders that surround us. Yesterday, a trip to the mall and seeing children climbing up onto the lap of the "Easter Bunny" felt like a punch in the stomach. In reality, I never took our kids to see the "Easter Bunny." Still, the children served as a reminder. Everywhere I looked, there were pretty, springy dresses in yellows, pinks and white. Baskets, bright colored eggs and pictures of innocence, hung in every store. I took Moise to the food court while the girls spent some time in one particular strore. Young teenage girls swarmed the area, their arms filled with babies and toddlers. They toted them around, showing them off as though they were meant to be put on display. Some yelled at their children. Some of the very small children wore summer outfits on a very cold day: cute--but not sensible. I watched as these little ones were passed around among the teenagers and I fought the pull toward resentment. I struggled with trying to make sense of something that can never make sense. As I walked back to my own teenagers I prayed: "Lord, I just don't understand but I do trust you."

My heart is heavy with sorrow but I am thankful that there is another side to this "double edged sword." As we celebrate this Easter holiday there is one truth that stands out above all else. It is because of this.......the Son, the cross, the sacrifice, the death, the resurrection........that I know I will see my little girl agian some day. Until then.........I wait, as one with great hope.

Nothing Personal

2011-04-15T08:03:00.000-07:00

Life is filled with what I call "aah ha" moments, those moments of sudden awareness. During an "aah ha" moment, matters of the mind seem to click into place and our eyes are opened to fresh realization. Last week I had such a moment, a very profound one at that. I have derived, from that moment, a new and entirely different perspective, one that I hope will stay with me until I see heaven.

I've noticed that often when someone experiences the death of a child, as time passes, they begin to fall into a victim role in their mentality. The victim role manifests itself through thoughts such as: "why me?" "how could God do this to me?" "what did I do to deserve this?" I admit that on occasion I have been guilty of asking such questions.  In the case of the death of a loved one, the victim role is misplaced and inaccurate.  In our case, Laynee was a victim of drowning. I was not a victim, just a very sad, grief stricken mommy. It is critical to know and recognize the difference. As parents we view our children as a part of us, their lives intricately entwined into the very fiber of our being. When a child dies it feels as though a part of our soul goes with them. It feels much like a very personal attack on us. We tend to have hurt feelings and feel offended that God would do such a thing to us. This victim perspective is dangerous as it allows the enemy to have a firm grip on us and he will devour us in this role. He builds upon the lie that God is against us.

Recently, in my "aah ha" moment, I was struck with the clear truth that Laynee's death was not personal at all. Her death was not about me. Even though she felt like such a part of me, she was her own individual person. Though our paths crossed in a most intimate way, the journey was not one and the same. God had a plan for her life that was seperate from his plan for my life. His plan for Laynee was short, only 2.5 years. She would be born to earth on Jan. 30, 2007 and would be taken to heaven on Sept. 7, 2009. In the time between, God planned for her to be cherished and treasured by our family.   His plan to take her was not about me, it was simply his divine plan for Laynee. My God, in his great mercy and wisdom had a seperate plan for me. Part of that plan was to bless me with the awesome priviledge of being Laynee's mommy. Also part of his plan was to provide me with what I needed to withstand the onslaught of sorrow that would come as a result of the completion of Laynee's plan. He would use Laynee's plan and the ensuing grief to strengthen me, to discipline me and ultimately......to refine me.

When we allow ourselves to step outside the box and look at the big picture, to see ourselves as unique and individual entities, we can see that when he chooses to take our loved ones home, it is not about us but about his perfect plan. Only then can we see that his plan for us is to shower us with love, mercy and grace in the shadow of death. That is about us............That is personal..............That is perfect love.

For I know the plans I have for you,"

declares the LORD, "

plans to prosper you and not to harm you,

plans to give you hope and a future.

~Jeremiah 29:11~

Sharing the Sunshine

2011-04-04T19:23:00.000-07:00

Looking through the files of pictures of my baby girl tonight

I had to share a little bit of her sunshine

So sweet......................

So Beautiful......................

So fun..........................

So innocent......................

So Precious..........

So Happy......................

So absent and so desperately missed.

Sun Ray

2011-03-30T20:04:00.000-07:00

I love Laynee's name. I loved it from the moment we came up with it. We wanted her to have a "J" name so she would fit in with her sister's. I guess you could say we made her name up. None of us had ever heard the name Jalayne before but we liked the way it sounds and people are always making up names these days. So Jalayne Grace she was. "Laynee" seemed to just happen. I recall the first time that her "aunt" Karen heard me call her Laynee instead of Jalayne. She asked "do you call her Laynee?" For the first time I realized that the nic name had stuck. Karen loved it, saying "it's just perfect for her." And it was.

I loved telling people her name. I still love telling her name. I love hearing her name but am thankful that it is not a common name as it would hurt to hear it in reference to someone else. At times my ears seem to positively ache with the need to hear her name. Often, especially in the car, I will say her name out loud, just to hear it, to feel it's formation on my lips. People rarely refer to her as Jalayne. In truth, people rarely refer to her at all but when they do, it is almost always Laynee.

Tonight Jim and I, along with our two youngest boys ran a few errands. While standing at the checkout at Staple's, the song "I Got a Feeling" by Black Eyed Peas began playing. I cannot hear this song without seeing Laynee dancing to "that tonight's gonna be a good night. that tonight's gonna be a good good night. woo hoo" I commented to Jim that "this song reminds me of Laynee." The cashier asked "did you say Laynee?" After I confirmed this, she went on to explain that her daughter is Laney and that she loves to dance to this song. I just smiled and said "our daughter's name is Laynee too." Her response was that "it's a good name." We didn't tell her the rest of our story, that our Laynee is in heaven. Tonight it just felt right to let her think that our Laynee is at home, dancing in our kitchen. The young lady then went on to inform us that in French the name Laynee means "Sun Ray" and added that this meaning "is perfect." Of course, she couldn't possibly know that how totally and completely befitting this name is for our Laynee. She couln't possibly know that she was sunshine to our every day that she was here. There was no way for her to know that our days haven't been quite as sunny without her.

When I got home I decided to see for myself if this is true. I looked up the name Laynee and found the French and Greek meaning to be "bright light." I found also that the Hawaiian meaning of Laynee is "heavenly." The young woman was right. "It's Perfect"

Laynee....... our "bright heavenly light." How we miss your sunshine.

Just BE

2011-03-27T19:47:00.000-07:00

One year ago I found myself in a place of complete and utter brokenness. The tragedy that had befallen our family 6 months previous seemed to have a ripple effect. Monumental changes continued to hit me in rapid succession, shaking my world on it's already teetering axis. On March 22 of last year I handed over the keys of my business to it's new owner. It was a business born of a dream planted many years ago as a tiny seed and realized when the perfect building, along with other timely factors, became available. Laynee had become meshed into the pursuit of this dream as I envisioned her wiping tables, sweeping floors, and lableing packages, all the while charming customers in the way that was so uniquely Laynee. I looked forward to the day when Laynee and I would work side by side in my little coffee shop. The dream died along with my daughter and the building, which I had loved and passionately poured my personality into, became a haunting reminder of the abscence of laughter and little footsteps.  Looking back to that day when I walked away from the business, as well as the dream, I know with great certainty, that those were the darkest days of this grief journey, the darkest days of my life. In hindsight, I can see that I stood on a precipice. I would make a choice.   I would choose to cling to faith in a God whose hand I could not see and whose ways I could not understand or I would choose NOT to cling to faith and therefore, plunge over the edge into the desperate, proverbial hands of depression.

I had been cautioned by many about the sale of my business. I was advised not to make such an enormous decision in the throes of great emotion. Well meaning people worried about what I would do without my business occupying my time.   It was suggested that surely my love for this business could return in time and that, rather than dying with Laynee, it could become her legacy. In truth, I too worried. Would I find reason to get out of bed each day without a business that demanded my presence? Yet there was a knowing, an absolute certainty that God had orchestrated an unlikely set of circumstances resulting in the whirlwind sale. Somehow, in the midst of all the chaos, I knew that His mighty hand was at work.

When I remember back to those days, I recall it as one standing on the outside looking in, as though watching a scene unfold upon a screen. My body went through the motions of selling the business while my mind stepped away, focusing on one thing.....surviving traumatic injury of the soul. In recent days I have gone back and read the blog posts from that time. There, written between the lines of my own words, is proof that God held me close even in the darkest of days. He gently and patiently pullled me back to him, over and over again.

As I reflect upon this post, I realize that it was in this darkest point of my life that I learned the most valuable lesson of all time. I am nothing without Christ and I have nothing to bring to him but my heart. I have no gifts, talents, skills or possessions that God needs. This is a truth that, on a cerebral level, I have always known but, until now, had never fully integrated into my daily life.

Grief has freed me of any self appointed obligations that I may have once had to live up to the expectations of others. It has taught me to live without agenda or aspirations.  What I am finding is that somewhere along the course of this journey I have learned to live by simply being.

Signs of Life

2011-03-21T19:34:00.000-07:00

I spent the afternoon working in Laynee's garden. There are signs of life everywhere. Tulips and daffodils have emerged from the ground. Rose bushes have crimson thorns. Mum leaves are forming fat mounds and her Weeping Cherry tree has tiny buds. I broke off a piece of a branch from her Beauty Bush and was pleased to see bright green life beneath the bark. I am thrilled that so many of the plants have safely weathered the harsh Illinois winter.

As I worked in the dirt. my mind lingered on Laynee, as I suspect it will be every time I work there. I longed for her to be there and wondered what she would be like now. I remembered her soft, sweet voice and could imagine her chattering along beside me. As I carefully tended to each plant I remembered whom each plant came from and, in the case of many, the reason they chose that particular plant. A start of small sunflowers was chosen because Laynee was like sunshine to all who knew her. One of the rose bushes was given because, while it is pink, it is not dainty and Laynee was most definitely not dainty. Another rose was given because, to the giver she was a "rose among thorns." Her Beauty Bush was given for obvious reason: because she was the "prettiest girl in the world." As I worked among the tulips I smiled to think of their blooms dancing in the wind and pictured Laynee and her cousin Shaney B dancing right along with them. Laynee left a legacy of love and it is witnessed in every plant. I look forward to seeing it bursting with vibrant colors, a beautiful and poignant depiction of the life she lived.

Aside from her grave, her garden seems to be the place where she feels closest to me. I found myself talking as if she were there, hearing every word. It is diffiicult to give words to the emotions that I felt as I worked. The pain was there with me all the while but it is not the same, life draining pain that it once was. It is more of a feeling of resignation, a knowing that life has been irrevocably altered. Even more than that though, is the sharp awareness that never again will anything in this world be enough. Life is incomplete........I am incomplete without her and will remain as such until I hold her again in heaven.

Somehow in the midst of all the sorrow, we have learned to carry on. God has been faithful. He has carried us, even when we couldn't feel his presence. He has allowed spring to unfold and in so doing, reminds us that when the harsh seasons pass, that which seemed barren and destitute can still have signs of life.

To everything there is a season

and a time to every purpose

under the heavens

Ecclisiastes 3:1

18 months

2011-03-07T17:26:00.000-08:00

In three words I can sum up

everything I've learned about life

"it goes on."

~Robert Frost~

As I wrote the date today, 3/7/11, like a punch in the gut I realized that today marks 18 months. In fact right now the time on my computer reads 6:25 pm, which is about exactly the time that she fell into our pool that Monday evening. Not a single month has passed in which the 7th has not had this same effect on me

Time is irrelevant. It could have been yesterday or an entire lifetime ago. There is, deep within me, a quiet resignation, that this pain will not get better with the passage of time. I have come to understand and even accept this as truth. As life moves on and days turn to months and months to years, we learn to function beneath the weight of sorrow. We live, we laugh, we love. As surely as our love for Jalayne is forever, so also is our grief for her.

We have been on a journey like none other and our Lord has never left our side. He's been with us in the deepest moments of despair and through Laynee, he has brought heaven ever closer to us. There is only one thing that has remained certain through it all...........God is good all the thime.

I LOVE YOU PRETTIEST

FINALE

2011-03-04T20:05:00.000-08:00

As I sit down to write today, my heart aches with sorrow and sadness from the events of my morning. In the last year we have done many things in Laynee's memory. We have framed pictures, quilts, trees, and a beautiful garden, all created for the sake of remembering her life. There was one thing left that I wanted to do, one final memorial, which I knew, would be the dearest of all.

As does every grieving mother, I agonized over what to do with all of her things. Last fall, I completed the heart wrenching task of going through all of her clothes. We gave a few things to another little girl, most were used to create quilts for each of us, and the others, those most precious to us, were set aside. Over the winter months my dad built a wooden chest, we stained it, and Jade painted the top of it for Laynee. This week Jim carefully put the final coat of varnish on it. Today I filled the chest with all of the precious keepsakes we have of Laynee. I am not usually one to place a great deal of sentimental value on things, but this chest is priceless. It's value does not come from being made of fine wood or by a master craftsman, neither was it painted by a renowned artist. None of those things would hold much appeal for me. The value of this chest comes from being made by people I love, knowing that it would hold the treasures of an entire lifetime......Laynee's lifetime.

As I knelt before the chest and opened the lid, I felt a sense of finalitythat comes from knowing that this is the last tangible thing I will do to keep Laynee's memory fresh in our mind. I went to her room and stood there for a long time, surrounded by memories, drinking in her scent that still lingers. I really didn't know where to begin but decided to save the most cherished items for last so that they could be easily accessible for those times when I need to feel her close to me. I started with the stack of cards that we received in response to her accident. There are literally hundreds of them, each one filled with words of love for our family, a show of support and encouragement.

As I began to carefully fold the tiny articles of clothing and place them neatly in the chest I could picture her in each one of them. These clothes, the ones still intact and in our possession, were the ones that, for whatever reason, had become most precious. There were several pairs of her little pants, her jeans that I so loved to see her in. I held the waist of her jeans at my fingertips and placed them across my forearm, she was so tiny, her legs so short that the hem didn't even reach the inside of my elbow. It struck me as unfair that we never got a chance to see how tall she would be.

As I placed her coat and a couple of jackets in, I noted that one jacket still had what appeared to be a chocolate drool mark near the top of the zipper. Another jacket still had the sleeves rolled up to fit her stubby little arms. I know that these jackets have not been washed since she last wore them, and they will remain unwashed. I buried my face in them, hoping to smell her little girl smell within their fabric.

I had kept several of her little dresses and I smiled as I remembered my very unladylike girl running to show her sister's how pretty she was on Sunday mornings. Her yellow dress with pink and red flowers and berries was my favorite. The fabric was so soft and it was void of frills and lace with plenty of wiggle space for a child who never sat still for even a moment. My arms ache to feel her softness through the folds of this dress.

I folded her fuzzy, soft pajamas, remembering how in the morning they would always be unzipped but she couldn't get the snap above the zipper open. We always made sure she wore something underneath on cold nights so her tummy wouldn't be cold. My heart clenched tight as I placed her Minnie pj's in the chest. These were the last pj's she wore. Her PJ's remind me of how good she always smelled after her bath. I took her bottle of lotion, which caused her to smell so "laynee" and placed it in the chest.

I had kept 3 of her blankets, one was the one she was wrapped in when we came home from the hospital. One side was satin, the other soft like velvet. We always took that blanket to nice places. I also kept the pink afghan which her biological grandmother had sent for her first birthday. My heart wrenched hard at the thought that she never got to meet that grandmother.

I added her papers from the few days that she attended the daycare and the group picture of her classmates. The pink hanging sign that said "you are my sunshine" always hung on a peg in her room and as I placed it among the other items, I marveled at how true those words were. She was joy and sunshine to every single day of our life.

My longing for her grew more intense, it seemed, with each item that I added to the chest. The closer the contents got to the top, the more special the items were and the more it hurt. The air seemed to be caught in my chest as I opened the box from the hospital and touched it's contents. A swatch of her hair, her hand and foot prints, her I.D. bracelet, the cards from the endless number of flowers and plants at the funeral, the guest book signed by over 800 people at her funeral, her obituary from the paper, and a bell placed on her grave by her little cousin, all items signifying that this mourning is for real. The last months have not been just an awful dream.

I felt a surge of anger as I held the machine used for testing her pacemaker. I was so diligent in making sure that it worked. Every month I would hold the doppler to her chest and hold her still while the machine checked her rhythm and sent it to the doctor. She hated having this done because it required her to sit still for several minutes. I had learned just a couple of months before that if I let her feed me cookies and I fed them to her, we could get this done without a hitch. I was so careful, knowing how much she depended on that pacer for her life. Still, her life was cut tragically short and sometimes it makes me so angry.

I'm not sure why it is, but her shoes are one of the things that I cannot look at without being hit by an onslaught of emotion. Perhaps it is because I so deperately miss the uneven sound of her footsteps on the floor. The tears came like a flood as I held each little pair to my chest before placing them neatly among the other items. Her play shoes still have a pair of light purple socks in them. Apparently they were last taken off somewhere other than in the house and the socks were stuck inside the shoes to prevent them from getting lost. Her camo crocks are a favorite for all of us. They were the only shoes she could put on by herself and always, always they were on the wrong feet. They were the last pair of shoes to touch her feet. She had them on that evening when she played outside, but the next day they were at the foot of the stairs leading to our deck. Her shoes tell the tale of a little girl who played hard all the time. Her play shoes are scuffed and worn, the dressy shoes never had a mark on them because she simply would not tolerate them.

I continued to add her possessions and wondered if the chest would be adequate for all of the things that needed to go in. I looked through her favorite books before placing them inside, hearing her sweet voice making her beloved animal and tractor sounds. Her school bag and diaper bag, still holding their contents were lovingly placed inside. I did take out the containers of food that were in the diaper bag and was stunned to see that the expiration date on a pudding snack was 9/7/2010, exactly one year after her accident. I found her sunglasses, diapers, a change of clothes, diaper ointment, her insurance card and a small bottle of children's tylenol in the bag along with her pink princess phone.

The chest was getting full but I added her baby dolls and stuffed animals. I carefully placed her little glasses in their case and closed it. A few pieces of her foam puzzle with teeth marks all over them went in. I went to my bathroom drawer and took out her tooth brush, all the while imagining Laynee standing there with her very dramatic sign for "brush teeth" She didn't sign this with just her finger, she used her entire arm. A toothbrush............ such a simple, everyday item....... but when the child who used it is gone, that simple item becomes a treasure worth more than gold.

One of the last things to go in the chest was a small princess music box that Laynee had confiscated from Jade. It was filled with "junk" that never seemed to stay in the box when she was here. As I opened it, I found two small strips of paper stapled together to form what I think was meant to be a cross. In childlike handwriting the name "JESUS" is written across the papers. This cross brought more sadness as I recalled the day after the accident when our youth pastor and his little daughter came to see us. Jada had made this cross for Laynee. I had written Jada Rumbold Sept. 8, 2009 on it. I sent up a prayer for Jada as I held this because Jada is now fighting a fierce battle of her own, a battle against cancer.

I struggled some with the last item that should be placed in the chest. Her black and white panda with tattered blanket around it has been my comfort countless times in the last 18 months. Bear still smells strongly of Laynee and I really didn't know if I could put it in this box. With a painful groan I willed myself to put the bear in the box. However, I must confess that I have taken it out several times to smell it. I don't want the smell of wood and lacquer to overpower her smell. With the addition of the bear, my task was completed. Every single treasure of Laynee's life is safely tucked inside the chest. It is placed at the foot of our bed and I know that it will bring a small measure of comfort to have her things so close to me as I rest. As I reached up to close the lid, it felt so final but I know that even this will not bring an end to all the pain. I have come to realize that there is no such thing as closure when one must say good bye to her child. I felt an odd sense of satisfaction when I discovered that the lid would not close all the way. It is so full that there is a small gap between the chest and the lid. How appropriate. One cannot put a whole lifetime in a chest and close the lid, not when that child is bigger than life.

Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love,

the things you are, the things you never want to lose.

~From the television show The Wonder Years

Speak Up Lord

2011-03-02T19:54:00.000-08:00

Tonight one of my friends on facebook posted this song by Sara Groves. It is a song that I am familiar with but this time, as I listened, it felt as though she had lifted the words straight from my own heart. For months I have struggled to find contentment and acceptance in the place where God has me for now. My soul seems to constantly be in search of something, though I don't know what, and I have grown incredibly weary of the hunt.

The truth is that I feel lost without Laynee. I am not sure if this sense of having been misplaced comes from not having Laynee here or if it is simply a symptom of grief. I suppose the two are ultimately the same, as I cannot experience one without the other. Everything that I do leaves me feeling incomplete and unfulfilled. I have recently attempted to take a few baby steps back out into the social realm but find that it leaves me with little more than feelings of apathy. I have made an effort to offer myself up to serve in various areas, hoping that this will spark something inside of me that resembles life. Yet, I walk away feeling empty. After the great challenges and even greater joys of being Laynee's mommy, every other job or task feels insignificant and menial. I have become a square peg trying to fit into a round hole.

God seems so silent and so far away. Daily, hourly I find myself asking "Lord, where are you, what do you want from me?" I have been wandering in the wilderness: seeking and searching, wondering how I fit in a world without Laynee. I know that God has a plan for my life but I need him to speak up, I can't hear him.

Death by Drowning

2011-02-18T18:36:00.000-08:00

Yesterday we received word that my uncle died. The semi that he was driving was found crashed into a ditch where he was unable to complete a turn. His body was found close by, submerged in 8 inches of water in the ditch. It was presumed that his death was a result of either an underlying health issue or drowning. Today the autopsy report concluded that the cause of death was drowning.

I am trying desperately to make sense of this, at least on a cerebral level. This uncle lived over an hour away from us and I did not see a great deal of him. He had a large family with several sons who were close to my age but I do not pretend to have had a deep personal relationship with them. Still, he was my uncle, my mother's older brother. His children are my counsins and I love them.

Before the autopsy report was in, my mother and most of my other family members seemed confident that he did not drown. The pictures showed very little water in the ditch he was found in. He had some health issues. Everyone seemed to assume that he had had a heath attack. Though I did not give voice to my thoughts, something deep within me prepared me for the reality of drowning. I hoped and prayed all day that my feeling was wrong.   I know that in the grand scheme of things the "how" of death is quite insignificant. I have not talked to any of his children and I suspect that they probably have not fully processed all that has taken place. I know also, that the circumstances here are dramatically different than in Laynee's case. Yet,  at the core of my being is the awareness that to have someone you love experience death by drowning is a really tough one to have to live with.

All of this has triggered a rush of memories, many of which I'd given very little thought to since Laynee's accident. Ironically, though my uncle was not from this area, he died in the same county that Laynee died in. This means that the same coroner performed both autopsies. The 4 conversations that I had with her have played, like a broken record, in my mind all day today. I recall with startling clarity, every word that she spoke to me.  The tone of her voice echoes through my mind. She was very kind but in my mind she is akin to the grim reaper. In the hospital, as we were saying our goodbyes to Laynee and feeling as though our hearts were being torn from our chests, a nurse pulled me aside and placed a phone in my hand, telling me I needed to talk to the coroner. The coroner gently told me that she was sending someone to get Laynee, they needed full body xrays and she would perform an autopsy in the morning. The day after, when she called, I stepped outside because our house seemed to be busting at the seams with people. As I stood on our front walk, the coroner spoke these words "Mrs Holmes, this is the Peoria County Coroner, I have completed the autopsy on your daughter and wanted you to know that I have determined the cause of death to be lack of oxygen to the brain. In other words, Jalayne drowned."   I remember thinking "how do I respond to this?" and out of habit, I gave her a feeble "Okay, thank you."   This news did not come as a surprise to us but those words are hideous words for a mother to hear.

Several weeks later I received a phone call, once again, from the coroner. She informed me that she had requested a coroner's inquest in which a jury would be selected to make the final verdict in regards to Jalayne's death, she told me the date of the inquest and again I thanked her. Finally, on the date of the inquest, about 10 minutes after the time it was scheduled, my phone rang and I answered once again to her voice. I recall my legs trembling and holding onto the wall for support in the kitchen area of my coffee shop as she spoke these words. "Mrs Holmes, the jury has determined the cause of Jalayne's death to be 'accidental death by drowning' Jalayne's case will be closed now. Her death certificate will be sent to you mortician, you can pick it up there."   Again I thanked her. She and I had four telephone conversations and the only words she heard me speak were "Okay, thank you." They were words spoken strictly for the sake of courtesy or perhaps only by habit. They were words meant to fill the void left by the knowledge that not a single word was befitting.

I cannot recall if I picked up her death certificate or if my brother in law, who works at the mortuary brought it to me. However, I remember reading it.  There was her birthdate, her beautiful name and then like I punch to the midsection the words jumped off the page at me "ACCIDENTAL DEATH BY DROWNING." These words drove me to the floor in agony. I hated these words then and I hate them today. I hated them in reference to my child and I hate them in reference to my uncle. Now, after the events of the past 24 hours, these words pulsate through my head like a mantra.

My heart aches for my cousins and their children as, suddenly and unexpectedly, they bid farewell to their father and grandfather. In the coming days they will share many beautiful memories along with their sorrow.  I know without a shadow of doubt that he would say "God is good and God does good...........all the time.  I have to chuckle a little thinking that heaven will never be the same now that he is there, the other saints are probably wondering what happened.   I smile also at the thought of the reunion there must have been when my grandparents welcomed him. I know that there was ALOT of talking at this reunion. Of course, I cannot think of anyone being in heaven without my Laynee dancing around them. You were and are and will forever be loved, Uncle Donald.

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes

and there shall be no more death

neither sorrow, nor crying

neither shall their be anymore pain

for the former things are passed away.

Revelations 21:4

2011-02-14T19:12:00.000-08:00

After several weeks of bitterly cold temperatures and gray, gloomy days, we have had a a bit of reprieve from the harshness of winter. The past couple of days we have welcomed temperatures in the 40's and more importantly, sunshine.

The break in the weather has not come a moment too soon. I have felt recently as if I am constantly fighting against a pull toward a perpetual downward spiral. Sorrow and grief continue to weigh heavily upon me and dreary, damp days have done little to brighten my outlook. Added to this was the fact that due to large amounts of snow I was unable to get to Laynee's place at the cemetary without trudging through heaps of snow. I had not realized before this how very important my visits to her site have been.  Yesterday, I was grateful to find that the lane around the cemetary had been cleared. Her site is bright and colorful with flowers, balloons and valentines, a testimony to the love that our little girl knew.

I continue to struggle in the quest to find something that resembles a new normal. Her abscence continues to make itself known wherever I go. The waves of pain continue to crash against me and sadly, what I am finding is that this is becoming normal.  At times I find myself wishing for the shock and numbness of the weeks and months immediately following the accident.    That seems almost preferrable to the dull, throbbing ache that is now a part of my existence. The pain no longer takes me by surprise. It has, in varying degrees, become my constant companion and I suspect it will be so for a very long time.

I do not function as I once did.   My task oriented nature has greatly diminshed. I know that I do not accomplish nearly as much in a day as I once did and there is a part of me that says this should bother me. It doesn't! Instead, I wonder what exactly it is that I was always striving for. Exhaustion seems to have become a part of who I am. The constant war of emotions that wages within requires enormous amounts of energy.

Today, Valentine's Day, we celebrated with our traditional candle light dinner. I made cookies with the names of each of my family written in white icing. As I wrote Laynee's name on a cookie, my heart ached with the knowledge that she will not taste it's sweetness.   To some it may seem meaningless to prepare a cookie for a child who no longer walks this earth. To me it is a small expression of my deep love for my child. In no way does such an act fill the longing that I have for her but it does, in the smallest of ways, tell of that longing.

2011-02-14T07:32:00.000-08:00

Happy Valentine's Day, Laynee

Wish you were here.
I love you forever!!!!!!

Easier but not Better

2011-02-01T18:16:00.000-08:00

Well, my friends, we are in the midst of what might very well be the worst snowstorm I have ever experienced. The snow started around 11:00 this morning and keeps dumping from the skies. Add to that, gale force winds, and we have ourselves a blizzard. The visibility is zero and I pray that no one is out on these roads because wherever they are headed, they will not make it.

We got a call last night saying that school would be canceled today. The last thing the school needed was a building full of students when the storm hit and no way to get everyone home. Another call came in a short time ago notifying us of tomorrows cancelation as well. Oddly, the wind and snow is accompanied by thunder and lightning. For those of you in the south, snow and lightning do not go together.

I really do not mind the storm, as long as I can stay safe in my home with my children around me. I went to work this morning but our office closed at noon. The short drive home was enough to convince me that nothing was important enough for being out today. After I got home, Jamee and I pulled out a puzzle.

I love doing puzzles but it seems that snow days are the only time I take the time to work on one. Since a snow day usually happens only about once a year, I don't have the pleasure of puzzles very often. Without fail, every time I do a puzzle, I think of Jim's grandma Fehr. Working puzzles with her every Christmas Day is my dearest memory of her. Usually, other family members would lose interest in the puzzle, which would leave Grandma and I to work together. She and I had some good talks over those pieces and I can still hear her soft laughter.

Today, Jamee worked with me for awhile and then decided to take a break. In the quiet, alone time that I had, I thought back to other puzzles we have done in the past. I found that I could not remember doing last year. That, of course, does not mean that it didn't happen. Many things were not retained in my memory at that point in life. The last puzzle I remember doing was when Laynee was here. It stands out clear in my memory because she kept running past the table and swiping puzzle pieces. She also kept wanting up beside me and would lean over the table, knocking pieces onto the floor. It occurred to me that doing puzzles is something that is definitely easier without a toddler around. There are many things that are easier, from a physical perspective. Going to the store is easier, getting ready for work is easier, dinner time is easier. Going out in the snow is easier without bundling a wiggling, squirming little girl. Many things are easier to do without Laynee here. I would rather have things be difficult because easier is definitely not better.

Quiet Birthday Without Her

2011-01-30T18:14:00.000-08:00

Happy Birthday Sweet Girl

2011-01-29T22:20:00.000-08:00

My sweet Laynee Grace,

Happy Birthday, baby. You would be four years old today but instead, you are having your second birthday in heaven. What a special day this would be if you were here with us. It's hard to imagine that it's been four years since you came to us. You were so very tiny and so sweet. We weren't really expecting you but we fell in love with you right away. So much has happened in those four years, so much happiness and so much sadness.

I'm going to bake a birthday cake for you today. I will make it pink and purple, just how I think you would want it to be. We are going to send balloons up for you in heaven too. We will celebrate but it's just not the same without you. I know that you celebrate every day in heaven. I hope that you are getting to show Jamee and Grant's friends, Mike and Celine around heaven. I'm sure you celebrate every time someone new comes to heaven, even though it makes those of us here so sad.

I haven't forgotten about your other mother here on earth, the one who gave birth to you. I think of her all the time, but especially on your birthday. I think that her heart must be a little sad too. I always thought she and I would get to meet someday because she would want to see how beautiful you are. I guess that is probably not going to happen now so I will just keep praying for her. I'm glad that you can watch over her from heaven.

We miss you so much. I wish that I could hold you close to me and feel your arms around my neck. I wish I could smell your sweet little girl scent. I want to dance in the kitchen with you and hear you laughing. I never new that it was possible to miss someone so much, for so long. I never knew that anything could ever hurt so much.

We are all doing okay here. Time keeps going on here, even without you. We do all of the things that we have to do. The kids go to school, mom and dad go to work. We try to be happy but it's just so hard to be happy when we are so sad. Someday we are going to get to see you again and that makes us happy. We know now that the hurting is not going to get much better while we are here on earth. We are going to miss you all of our days here.

I try to imagine what my little girl would be like now that you are four years old. It is getting more and more difficult to picture in my mind how you would be. I do know that you would be beautiful because you are our princess girl. I also know that you would be so smart. You would probably know your letters and colors and numbers by now. I think that you would have a beautiful sining voice too. I wish I could know and not have to guess at what you might be like when you are four.

I found some special things for you at the store for your birthday. They are not the kind of things I really want to give you for presents, but they are good for a birthday girl who lives in heaven. I found little flowers and butterflys to stick in the ground they dance around when the wind blows. I also found a cute hanging thing that says "Princess of Everything." I laughed a little when I found this and knew it would be good for your birthday. Oh............ and I found the perfect birthday hat for my birthday girl.

I love you so much Laynee and I wonder, can you tell me, "Why do I love you so much?" I still think you are the prettiest girl in the world. I am going to come see you in heaven someday. Wait for me baby girl. I want you to hold my hand and show me all the things that you know about heaven. Until then, I will keep loving you with every beat of my heart. I will keep missing you with every breath that I breathe.

You are our forever love Jalayne Grace Holmes.
I love you
Mama

P.S Here's our favorite song. Let's dance to it okay. Because you're the prettiest, 'kay.

2011-01-28T17:21:00.000-08:00

Last Friday I found a treasure, a big, priceless treasure. I suspect that it will be the last treasure of it's kind that I will find. I had searched for and wondered about this treasure for quite some time and had given up hope of ever finding it. This treasure brought with it a myriad of emotion.

For many months I have puzzled over the fact that we had not a single picture in our posession of Laynee's second Christmas nor her second birthday. This brought much anguish as they were not only her second Christmas and birthday, they were her last. The knowledge that she only got to experience two of these joyful events brings a sickening twist to my stomach. I had searched through piles of photos, discs, flash drives, and computer files, always coming up empty handed. Those who know me well, know that I am always taking pictures. If anyone needs pictures of an event that I attended, it's almost a guarantee that I will have some. After searching endlessly for these pictures, I had taken to tormenting myself for my own failure. I loathed the only explanation I could come up with; that in the busyness of life and the hubbub of 6 children, I had forgotten to take pictures of these two very special dates in Laynee's tragically short life. Words cannot describe the sorrow I felt for not having something tangible to help me remember those special lasts.

As you might have already guessed, last week I found the coveted pictures.  This Christmas Jim bought me a wonderful photo printer so that I can process my own pictures. Having set it up on the desk in our basement, I headed down to print some pictures. The computer there is one that was not included in the sale of Java Junction. The kids use it for school work and there are a few Java files saved as a business precaution. I never even think to use that computer for anything. With flash drive in hand, I set out to upload the photos I wanted to print but noticed that there was a file of photos. A bit confused as to why there would be photos on the old Java computer, I opened the file. There, before my eyes, appeared photo after photo of my sweet, beautiful and missing baby. My hands shook as I realized that I was seeing Laynee's last Christmas and birthday, the events I so desperately wanted to remember.

As so often happens since Laynee left us, I was flooded with an onslaught of conflicting emotions. I was overjoyed to realize that I didn't forget to take these pictures and even more elated to find them. Soul seering agony tore through me as I longed to have her here with me once more. I was awed by God's timing, that he should give me this gift on these difficult days leading up to her second birthday in heaven. My breath caught as my eyes took in how stunningly beautiful this child of mine was. I felt humbled for having been her mother and, at the same time, cheated that she was taken too soon.

There, amidst the photos are 6 beautiful videos of Laynee in action. As, one by one, I viewed the videos, my heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest with longing for her. Some of the things that I so desperately missed were captured. One of the videos was of her last Christmas morning. She had received a sing a long CD with our favorite song "Daisy, Daisy." I always changed the words to "Laynee, Laynee......give me your answer do. I'm half crazy all for the love of you." Laynee and I danced and danced to this song but in this particular clip, I am filming while Jade dances with Laynee in her arms. Jade and Laynee's faces are filled with joy; the innocent, carefree joy that our family once knew. I'm singing into the microphone and it's quite hideous but I can deal with that to see the pure happiness of two of my girls who loved endlessly. There are videos of how she loved her baby dolls and how she walked with one arm swinging behind her. There is one in which she had a few tears, which was so rare for this precious child. It makes me sad to see that always happy face, turned upside down, yet in some strange way I'm thankful that I have it. There is one of Brock and Laynee "chasing" and my heart slammed into my chest with the awareness that it this was the game she was playing with Jade and Garrett when the fatal miscommunication took place. There are videos of her annoying Moise and he, in turn, pushing her aside. They capture her smile, her sounds, her expressions, all the things that we loved so much in our little girl. They are a treasure, worth more than all of the things that money can buy.   These pictures and videos tell a story, the main point being that this child was so very happy here, in our home. She loved her life here on earth.

I have no idea how these pictures came to be on that computer. I do, however, have suspicions that I could not get them uploaded onto my own computer, for whatever reason, and took them into my office at work. My dear employee and young friend, Coryell, who was always so patient with my technological impairment, very likely uploaded the photos without even glancing at them. The how and why of this situation is unimportant. I have them now and will cherish them for the rest of my days. I know that moments of discovery, such as this one, are dwindling. The little unexpected findings have become few and far between and soon will cease to occur. There are no more treasures hiding in unknown places. The pictures and mementos that we have in our possesson now will have to sustain us until we see her again. And so........for now, I will ration these beautiful photos and share them a few at a time.  My heart bleeds, my eyes swell because I know that these are the last little pieces of Laynee that I will have the pleasure of sharing with you.

Look closely lest you miss the sparkle and joy that exuded from my precious child. Surely, heaven is made brighter by her presence. It has to be!!!!!!

In the picture below, even though she's turned

away, you can see her joy. It is there in the rise of her

cheeks and crinkle of her beautiful almond eyes

Stunningly, achingly beautiful and radiant

This one hurts my heart. Laynee and her papaw Glueck.

Oh how she loved her Papaw . I think he liked her too

Her first baby. It had a passy that she loved to shove,

none to gently, into poor baby's mouth

Daddy bought her a princess sleeping bag and night mask.

Her face looks "goopy" becasue whenever we were home

we coated her face with an ointment to combat dry, chapped

cheeks.

This book from grandma Holmes was her favorite. It had

soft, fuzzy ducks and kittens. It was this book that I tucked in beside

her before the casket was closed.

This photo is fuzzy and yet it's there. The joy and happiness

that Laynee brought to our home is there in the smiles and eyes of my

children. How we adored her.

I'm quite certain that my heart skipped several beats upon

seeing this picture. My beautiful tomboy princess in her

her boots and dress. She was such a show off in these boots.

She thought she was the envy of the whole world when she had her

boots on. Along with her duck book and her hee hee in her hand,

these boots are now beneath the earth with her beautiful, perfect little body.

Notice also her arm swinging behind her in the way that was so special and

uniquely Laynee.

Oh Laynee Grace, we miss you so much.

Tremont's Tragedy

2011-01-22T17:59:00.000-08:00

Tragedy has struck our small community today. Early this morning, our girls basketball team was on their way to a basketball tournament when a truck going the opposite direction spun out of control, hot a trailer and was thrown across the median, hitting our bus head on. Aside from a few minor injuries, the girls on the bus are okay physically. Later this afternoon we received word that the people in the truck were also Tremont teens. Two of them are Jamee's classmates and friends of both Jamee and Grant, they were pronounced dead at the scene. Mike and Celine have left a hole in the hearts of many.

So much heartache, so many broken and wounded souls. Please pray.

Laynee Clouds

2011-01-21T17:51:00.000-08:00

This morning I got a very heart warming text on my cell phone. It was from a young lady who is a freshman in college and works with me at the doctor's office. The text read..........

"Laynee clouds" (what I call pink clouds) are filling the sky this morning.

I really have no words to explain the way that this made me feel. There was a surge of excitement at unexpectedly seeing her name written by a hand other than my own. I felt a sense of awe at the reality of how great an impact a 2 year child managed to leave on the people that knew her. I smiled, knowing exactly the type of clouds she was referring to, the same pink clouds that always make me think of Laynee dancing around heaven with a pink paint brush in her hand. I felt honored that a busy, life loving teen would think of my little girl and I when she probably has so much on her mind. Above all, my heart filled with joy at the knowledge that Laynee has not been forgotten, her memory lives on in the hearts of many.

Awhile back I posted about what to do and not to do when someone you care about is grieving. Kristin has set a perfect example this morning of something that you definitely should do.

Love This

2011-01-17T20:17:00.000-08:00

A while back, a friend sent this picture to me. It was taken on a camping trip with a few other families. I positively melted when I saw it. Above all else, the thing that made Laynee so..........Laynee, was the fact that she had Down Syndrome. Laynee's physical features of having an extra 21st chromosome were not always very evident, especially when she was really little. Often when people would see her, they would have no idea and would be shocked when I would explain that she has DS. People liked to say "She must have very mild DS." Well, in truth, this is a very incorrect statement. There is no such thing as "mild" Down Syndrome. One either has it or they don't, there is no in between.

When we looked at Laynee, we did not see Down Syndrome. We saw a beatiful little girl with lots of spunk and more energy than anyone I ever knew. A little girl who brought joy and sunshine and laughter to every single day of our life.

Now, as I look back at pictures. I find that my favorites are those in which the look of Down Syndrome

is clearly evident. This picture is one of those and I adore it.

I would give everything I own to kiss those chubby cheeks, just one more time.

Private Pain

2011-01-07T20:06:00.000-08:00

Does there come a point when I have said enough or maybe even too much about this journey that we are on? Is there a line across which the jumbled thoughts in my head and the deep feelings in my heart become too private or personal to share with others? Is this continual grieving more information than anyone really needs to know about?

I have come to understand that there is an ebb and flow quality to grief. It has been this way since the moment that we were thrust into this chapter of our life and I suspect that it will continue until the end. I feel as though I am stuck on a pendulum, swinging from one strong emotion to another, with precious little time in between. With each swing of the pendulum or each cycle through the stages of grief, the pain is driven deeper until it inhabits a part of myself that has never before been occupied. It is a place so deep within my heart and soul that, until now, I did not know such a place existed.

There is a time and a place for all things and with the passage of time, there are few times and even fewer places where grief is appropriate and accepted. As I become more fully aware of this, I have become expert at compartmentalizing those things which occupy my heart and mind. This compartmentalizing is necessary for the sake of carrying on. I know that I cannot stay stuck in grief forever, but all memories of her, whether happy memories of life or horrific memories of death, have varying degrees of sorrow attached to them. In order to function without the burdensome weight of sadness, I find myself making a conscious, deliberate choice to push her memory into the back of my mind. And then, when I find myself alone--in the quietness of the night, in the car, or in the shower--I am hit by an agonizing torrent of emotion, so strong that I seriously doubt my ability to persevere.

I have found comfort here as I have shared some of my deepest thoughts and sorrows. However, as the pain and sorrow become ever more deeply rooted within me, the pain has begun to feel intensely personal. My own grief has become too private to share publicly. I have expressed it in every way that I know how. I have made the decision to use this site only for sharing occassional pictures or special Laynee memories. I have chosen from this point forward, to share the grief, the pain, the sadness only with My God and the few close friends who have stood strong in this storm with me.

Thank you to all who have walked this journey with me. Many have read every post, shed tears, and whispered prayers. Thank you for the words of love and encouragement that you have shared. As I reflect upon the many blogs that I have written here, it is my prayer that you all will remember one very important thing.

GOD IS GOOD.............ALL THE TIME

I love you so much, Laynee Grace.

Happy New Year

2011-01-01T06:17:00.000-08:00

The year 2010 has come and gone. A year of immense sadness and great change. A year without Jalayne. It came and now it has gone..........without her. Last year has proven that the pain of grief is not alleviated by the passage of time. Though I was not aware of it at the time, at some point during the night of Laynee's accident, I stepped across a threshold that would separate one part of my life from another. The part of my life that had already been lived was dramatically different from the part that was yet to come. 2010 was the first full year of living this side of the threshold, the side on which I am mother to a child in heaven. I often wonder if I would recognize the woman who lived the other part of my life, so different was she than I.

It is certain that this year, like every year, will bring joy along with sorrows. It will be the beginning of life for some and the end for others. There are events that, even on this first day of the year, I look forward to. One of which is my firstborn graduating from high school and embarking on a new and exciting chapter in her life. However, I look forward to such events with the knowlegde that I will not experience them in the same way that I would have in the other part.

"Suffering breaks our world. Like a tree struck by lightening—splintered, shaken, denuded—our world is broken by suffering, and we will never be the same again." ~Nathan Kollar

As I reflect upon the closing of this first year without her, I am stuck between two absolute truths. One brings deep sorrow, the other, great hope. Both are irrefutable. I am one year farther away from her. I am also one year closer to seeing her again.

Prayers for Jada

2010-12-31T07:53:00.000-08:00

This week, our church youth pastor and his wife received the news that their 5 year old daughter, Jada, has a form of kidney cancer referred to as Wilm's Tumor. Doug and Jessica have one younger son, Oliver and are expecting their 3rd child any day. Please pray for everyone involved as they begin the agonizing journey of the unknown.

I Miss Her

2010-12-29T22:41:00.001-08:00

Beauty

2010-12-28T15:36:00.000-08:00

This morning I awoke to the most beautiful sunrise. The snow covered ground glistened. The trees heavy with frost sparkled with the morning light. I looked out my bathroom window to see my brother in laws horses next door as they pranced around in the snow. One of my most beautiful memories of Laynee is in the mornings when I would dress her. I would stand her up on my vanity and she would crouch down low, rear end, nearly touching the vanity top, to see between the slats in the mini blinds. Upon spotting her beloved hee hees next door, she would straighten, point their direction and give a long heeeee. I'm not sure why it is but this is one of the pictures that I can recall with vivid clarity in my mind's eye.

When I saw her heehees this morning, I was overcome with sadness, wishing that I could scoop her up onto the vanity for a good look. As the brilliant hues of pink, orange, and purple began to appear in the sky, I was comforted with the knowledge that she is there. Somewhere beyond that sunrise my beautiful baby dances before her king.

Let us praise his name in dancing

Psalm 149:3

December 28, 1986

2010-12-28T13:21:00.000-08:00

This day, 24 years ago, was a day that I shall never forget. It is a day that could be in included in the count of the worst days of my life.

When I was a young teenager, our family took in a young boy from Vietnam. My parents acted as foster parents to Dung Duy Dao (pronounced Yung Wee). Though we were never certain of his exact age, not knowing his birth date, he was about 10 or 11 years old. He stayed with us for about 2 years.

On Christmas Day 1986,  when I was 16, my parents, Dung, my friend Andrea, and I boarded a plane to San Jose, CA where he would visit to his biological father. There was much discussion by the state about Dung needing to return to his father, despite the fact that he wanted nothing to do with such a plan. Dung had come to the US as a refugee on a boat. He had some horrific stories to tell about Vietnam and his memories of his father were not pleasant. I suspect that there were many stories that Dung kept to himself, not wishing to talk about them, perhaps stories too awful to tell.

On the flight to Califorinia, Dung became very ill. We had a lay over in Denver and were told we would not be allowed on our next flight without documentation from a physician that Dung was fit for travel. Dung was admitted to the hospital and Andrea and I stayed at a hotel. While at the hospital, no medical explanation for his illness could be found. A psychiatrist determined that the visit to his father was causing him extreme stress and advised us not to continue to CA, but return home to Illinois. After a couple of days, we headed back to the airport to fly home. As we prepared for takeoff, Dung declared that he was going home.

Shortly after we were in the air, Dung slept against the back of his seat, directly across the aisle from me.   My mother got up to use the restroom. As she returned to her seat, she appeared rather shaken. I watched her intently and with some irritation as she seemed to be poking and prodding at Dung. I asked her why she didn't just let him sleep. With wide eyes, across his sleeping form, she mouthed "He's dead." Her "poking and prodding" was, in reality a check for pulse, reflexes, response to pain, or any other sign of life. While my dad, Andrea and I remained in our seats, mom went to inform the flight attendants of what had happened. There was nothing to do but wait for our landing at Chicago's Ohare. We put a pillow under his head and pulled a blanket up close around him to shield his lifeless face from the inquisitive eyes of other passengers. We remained calm, showing no outwards signs of our inner turmoil, in an effort to keep the full flight from knowing the truth. We sat like this for over an hour before the plane finally landed. I will not even attempt to describe what that hour was like for it would be virtually impossible.

After landing, the pilot announced that we did have an emergency on the plane and asked all passengers to deboard quickly an quietly. We stayed put, drawing the attention of all the passengers as the family with the "emergency." A couple of times a bag or coat caught on the blanket over Dung, exposing a face that, by this time, was unmistakably dead. As I watched the steady stream of people filing off the plane, most seemed unaware, but there were a few that glanced at Dung and I could see understanding register on their faces. As soon as the plane was empty, the paramedics rushed on, firing questions at us.  I shall never forget the sight of Dung's ashen face as they picked him up, placing him on the floor of the aisle, and began CPR.   The rest was a blur of activity that my brain really cannot make sense of. I recall the plane's cockpit, and yelling and a sterile green room. In utter silence, we drove home from Chicago to our family, brothers and sisters who knew nothing of the nightmare we had been living that day.

A cause of death was never determined. There was nothing clinically that caused his death. Still, his death does not remain a mystery, at least not for us. Dung's life was horrific but for the 2 years that he was with us. He had found peace and safety with us and it looked as though the state was going to take that away from him. He was one determined young man and he was determined not to return to his biological father. I suspect that he lost faith in everyone, even us. He likely did not know whether or not to believe that we were really taking him back to Illinois. Dung came to know Jesus in the hospital the night before and His statement "I'm going home" was not a reference to Tremont, Illinois but his eternal home, Heaven.

Every Christmas for 24 years, I have remembered. On Christmas Day I remember leaving for CA and how violently ill Dung was. On the 28th of each December I remember his death and at times I even dream of it. He is so heavy on my mind at this time of year that, earlier today, I even absentmindedly called Moise "Dung." On New Year's Eve I am taken back to another year as we stood in the snow at his burial.   I recall confusion, disbelief and utter hopelessness. Perhaps it is for this reason that I hurt so terribly at the knowledge of what my children experienced at the time of Laynee's death. The memory of CPR being performed, unsuccessfully, on someone you love, leaves a mark upon the human soul. In many ways it feels like a cruel twist of fate that my children should have to suffer something so similar to what I experienced at such a young age. I am fully aware that for all of time they will remember with great pain. I know that there are some memories that cannot be dimmed by the passage of time. I can no longer bring to mind the image of Dung's smiling face but the image of his face in death is seared upon the pages of my memory. The sound of an ambulance siren, even if in the far off distance, has always triggered memories of paramedics in dark blue, red airplane seats and death. Now my mind seems confused by whether to remember Dung's death or Laynee's.

There was great sadness surrounding Dung's death. There was also a sense of comfort in knowing that, though his life was filled with trauma and unfairness, he had 2 years of being loved and cared for as children should be. There is no doubt that the 2 years that he was with us were by far, the best years of his life. By comparison, Laynee never knew sorrow, trauma or sadness only 2.5 years of great love and joy. I am so glad that they were spent with us.

I have often thought about Dung and Laynee being in heaven together. Do they know each other? Are they aware of the connection that they both have with me? When I get to heaven, will they be side by side, waiting for me? So many questions that I will never have answers to, this side of heaven.

Happy Angelversary Dung! Kiss my Laynee for me.

Merry Christmas Laynee Grace

2010-12-24T05:32:00.000-08:00

My sweet Laynee Grace,

It's Christmas. Our second Christmas without you. Your second Christmas in heaven!!!! In many ways it feels like the first. Last year we were in Florida and we didn't have the memories of you in our condo like we do here at home. I really don't remember much about last year. I only know that the hurt was so bad I didn't think that I could live without you. Like every other holiday since you went to heaven, I don't want to do this without you. I don't want to celebrate without you. I don't want to go to bed tonight knowing that you won't be here to bound into my bed tomorrow reminding us that it is Christmas. I don't want to but I will. I must.

Tonight we are all going to Grandma Glueck's. You would be so excited by all the people. You could play with little Londyn and......well...........you would probably do alot of bossing her around. Before we go to Grandma and Grandpa's house we are going to go to your grave. We each have a jar with a candle in it that will light up your grave. We got that idea from a blog friend. Kristin is beautiful like you and she is in heaven too. Do you know Kristin? And Carly? And what about Mark, do you know him? Anyway.......I think that the lights by your grave will be beautiful. Tomorrow we will go to church to remember Jesus Birth. In the evening we will go to Grandma and Grandpa Holmes. ShaneyB will miss you. We all will miss you. I don't want to do any of these things without my Laynee Girl, but I will.

I wonder about you in heaven. Where are you? What are you doing? Can you see your pink tree from up there? I hope that you can see it, Laynee. It's so beautiful, just perfect for our little princess. I know that what you see in heaven is far more brilliant and shining than this little pink tree, but I still hope you can see it because we did it just for you. Can you see all of us from heaven? I think about that question alot and hope that you cannot see all of the sorrow that we feel or the many tears that we shed. I'm afraid that would make you terribly sad. Is it possible, from there in heaven, to know how much we miss you and how we love you, without knowing how sad we are? I suppose anything is possible in heaven.

Someday we are going to be with you in heaven. I can't wait but for now we have to be here, without you. It seems like it has been so very long since we had you here. You feel so far away from us. Time does not seem to help. The sadness creeps in no matter how we try to hold it at bay. Missing you hurts all the time. Sometimes it hurts a little, other times it hurts so much that I can't breathe, but it always hurts. We are learning though, learning how to live life without you here.
I miss you sweet girl, with every beat of my heart. I miss your smile and laughter. I miss your strong willed, stubborness. I miss your naughtiness. I miss the soft side that you brought out in each of us. Most of all, I miss your joy and your simplicity.

MERRY CHRISTMAS LAYNEE! You're the prettiest, okay!!

I LOVE YOU
Mama

I'm sure you and Miss Dolly are quite a pair in heaven

Merry Christmas to All

2010-12-23T17:26:00.000-08:00

We sent our Christmas Card out to many but I wanted to wish all of my dear blog friends a beautiful Christmas. To those who have lost children in this last year, my heart aches for you and I pray that you can feel the comfort of the Holy Spirit as you struggle through this holiday season.

Blessings to all.

Another Christmas

2010-12-22T12:35:00.000-08:00

I struggle to maintain balance in a world that has been irrevocably tipped. Someone is missing and she will continue to be missing from now until the end of time. It is a truth that, no matter how I try, I cannot seem to wrap my brain around. It's a truth that still takes my breath away.

Christmas is coming. I am powerless to stop it. I know that, like all other significant dates, it will come and it will go and we will survive. I know this because we've done it. I do not dislike the holidays but there is a sharp awareness that they will never be the same. I will never celebrate in the same way that I once did.   We go through the motions of the holidays, on the ride with everyone else. We've attended concerts and programs, baked and decorated, bought and wrapped. We not only join in the festivities, we enjoy them. However, we now lack the idealistic innocence that we once had. We love the excitement of our children that are here, but desperately miss the one who is not.

There is no end to the things that will forever represent her abscence, the greatest and most permanent being that place of sadness that has been etched into my heart. The stockings, hanging from the mantle, have been filled with small gifts but her's hangs limp and empty. We've received some precious ornaments from others this year, my favorite being a beautiful pink and silver rocking "hee hee". These ornaments, given to us in love, hang from our tree along with all of the others. In our back yard is a spruce tree, donated by our children's school at the time of the accident. We have adorned it with 500 bright pink lights.  It is beautiful and at times, though there are no flashing lights, it twinkles. I can see her tree from any window on the back side of our house. It brings a pang of regret each time I pass by it, but it also reminds me of her vibrant, sparkling life.  On her grave is a beautiful arrangement with fuscia bows and purple poinsettias. When I ordered this to be made, my request was "make it glitzy and girly." As I knelt to place it on her grave, my heart squeezed inside of me and once again I fought waves of desperation.   There is a surreal quality to all of these things that are done in rememberance of her.

   We have tasted of life's harshness. We have lived the unthinkable. Now and forevermore, we will wish that she were here. We will wonder what she would have been like.   We will remember her life with joy and her death with sorrow. The most monumental difference between Christmas now and Christmas before is that which is deep in the heart of each of us. It is the keen knowledge that our family circle is, for our time on earth, broken. The baking, the decorating, the music,   and the lights can never make Christmas complete.   There is new longing, not for gifts or gadgets, but for that place where our little girl celebrates with her King.

The Other Women

2010-12-12T13:10:00.000-08:00

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.

2 Corinthians 1:3-4

This blog has become an invaluable source of healing for me. I have come here, over and over in an attempt to make sense of the onslaught of emotion that we have been caught up in .  At times I have come with a voice of praise, while at other times, desperation has echoed through the words I have written.    So often I become frustrated with my own inability to articulate all that my soul has to say about the unwanted changes that have come into our life.   I suspect that, to the reader, my words tend to be somewhat redundant as there are not enough words that have the poignancy  to capture all of the expression of my heart.  I began blogging in an attempt to release some of the emotion that rages within, but quickly discovered that it served a far greater purpose. It is through blogging that I have found love and support to make it through this.

   Before the accident, I had never given thought to how few people in our social circle have experienced the death of a child. This awareness induces a deep sense of loneliness. It is here, through the world of blogging, that I have been able to connect with those capable of relating to every aspect of a mother's grief. I have come to appreciate and care deeply about many fellow baby and child loss mommies, those who know the searing agony of saying good bye to our chilren long before we are ready. I am amazed at the number of women out there who never heard their child utter a single cry. Many have buried their children within days, weeks or months of birth due to heart or genetic defect, SIDS or other illness. Some have watched their child die slowly and painfully.  Some mother's had a happy, thriving child one minute and the next minute their life crashed as their child died suddenly.

There is also a category of women with whom I can relate even more specifically, those who's children have been taken from them by means of tragic accident. Many of these mothers, along with myself, share the daily living with the reality of what, to the human mind, could have been an avoidable accident.   I have come to care about many whose children have drowned in pools, lakes, jacuzzis or rivers. My heart is filled with compassion for certain women whose children have died in accidents involving cars, choking, window blinds and suffocation.

These are women of great faith and strength. As I read their blogs I am often awed by the eloquence with which they share. I know that every word written comes from their innermost being. I can feel, by the tone of their writing, when they feel stuck in a downward spiral or if they can feel the peace that passeth all understanding. Between the lines I can sense the torrent of emotion that pours down upon each one. Sometimes their words are filled with a nearly palpable sadness or peppered with anger and bitter resentment. Still other times I can sense that they have had a moment of seeing the light through the darkness, that somehow they have been reminded of the hope that we have. I know that for each of us, it is only those moments of hope that keep us going.  All of us share a very strong bond that comes from being in awe of the life lessons taught to us by children who were given to us and then taken far too soon.   Some embark on a mission to do something that will somehow make a difference or give a sense of purpose to what they are going through.   Though I have never met most of these women in real life, I fully comprehend the cry of their anguished hearts. I know also that they understand me at a deep, heart level, as few others do.

These are women who KNOW. They know what it is like to have a part of you die with your child. They understand the desperate longing to be reunited with our babies. They have felt the agonizing pain of empty arms. They too have had those days of wondering "am I going to survive this," those moments of being uncertain if you will even be able to draw your next breath.   These women's hearts, like my own, have been a battleground of spiritual warfare, where the enemy seeks to destroy while our savior seeks to save. They would never suggest that it's time to move on or that we should "heal" from the death of our child, knowing that we are forever changed and that there is no going back.

The words of these mothers resonate within me. I read them, not as one who "can only imagine" or "cannot fathom," but as one who knows and understands and feels, on a gut level, the agony in every sentence. In some strange and perhaps, selfish, way I draw comfort from the awareness that I am not alone on this journey. I will not pretend that I pray for each of these women daily. I don't. However as I read their blog posts I am reminded of each of them individually and a take the time to remember and lift them up in prayer. Sometimes I make a feeble attempt at offering words of encouragement, while at other times I am aware that there simply are no words.

As we face another holiday season without her, I think often of these other women. I know that they too have ornaments hanging from their tree in rememberance of their child so dear and so very absent. Some face their first Christmas without them, others are still missing them after several years. All feel the emptiness of not having them here with us. There is a silent, unspoken understanding that for those of us whose children are in heaven, the Christmas season hurts.

To my reader friends, I ask that you would lift up these women who have become so dear to me. They walk the same path of missing our children. They are weak and they are strong. To those who have never known this pain of infant or child loss, please know that the hurting will never stop until we see them again. To the other women, those who KNOW, thank you for your strength and faith and encouragement.

These are the names of faith tested and tried through giving up a part of their hearts.

Taylor missing Nathan

Stephanie missing Camille

Christy missing Chase

Misty missing Isaac

Brandy missing Abigail

Tiffany missing Julius

Rebecca missing Audrey Ann

Jody missing Grant

Stephanie missing Amelia

Joany missing Carly

Polly missing Kristin

Cindy missing Joel

Lindsay missing Ayden

Trisha missing Nathan

Hillary missing Natalie

Angie "Missing Mark"

Ashley missing Preslee

Lesley missing Gretta

Rachel missing Beckett

Kirsten missing Ewan

Joan missing Joshua and Gabriel

Rachel missing Aubrey and Ellie

Meredith missing Brayden and Kennedy

Marcia missing Brandon

Mary Kay missing Becky and Ben

Dorothy missing Matthew
Phyllis missing John
Arlene missing Jeff

Rachel missing Clark

Alice missing Grace

Denise missing Drew

Phyllis missing Chad

Michelle missing Brayden

Yvonne missing Nicholaus

Debbie missing Lexi

Rhonda missing Caleb
Kate missing Kennedy
Sumi missing Jenna
Shannon missing Ethan
Melva missing Nicki
Vicki missing Brian

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

Romans 8:18

From the Mouth of Elizabeth Edwards

2010-12-10T06:25:00.000-08:00

There is a quote that has appeared o on the blogs of many other baby loss mothers in recent days. Elizabeth Edwards, former wife of Senator John Edwards, passed away on Tuesday, December 7 at the age of 61. Ms. Edwards has left her mark on our country with her passion. She was a mother, a cancer survivor, an advocate, an author and a symbol for stregth among women.

While I have no intention of sharing my views on Ms. Edward's place in the public spotlight, this one quote of hers is too profound not to share. She was quoted for this statement after the tragic, accidental death of her teenaged son.

"If you know someone who has lost a child, and you're afraid to mention them because you think you might make them sad by reminding them that they died--you're not reminding them. They didn't forget they died. What you're reminding them of is that you remembered that they lived, and ...that is a great gift."

~ Elizabeth Edwards

The Difference

2010-12-09T20:07:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about an encounter with a woman who was less than kind. She was rude, nosy and cruel in regards to Jalayne's accident. That experience left me struggling for quite some time. While I still cannot find it in myself to believe that her actions were innocent in nature, I have moved on from it and have chosen to forgive.

Today I had a similar experience that was entirely different and left me with a warm, if still sad, feeling in my heart. It happened while I was at work. A patient came in needing to have her blood drawn and was a bit apprehensive. In an effort to ease her anxiety a bit, I made small talk with her. After her comment that she had not seen me working at the office before, I told her that I had worked for this doctor before but took a couple of years off to operate a coffee shop. She very politiely said "a coffee shop? How nice, what made you decide to come back?" I began to feel a bit uneasy with the direction of the conversation but answered vaguely that after a traumatic life event, I needed a change and the simpicity of working for someone else. She seemed to completely understand and commented on the importance of keeping things as stress free as possible, especially if we have children. She asked the how many and how old question. I told her, ending with "my 2.5 year old died a year ago." Her face melted into compassion and she said "I'm so sorry, there is nothing worse than losing a child." She did not tell of any experience, but instinct told me that this was a woman who had known this great sorrow. She then asked, "was she ill?" Feeling completely at ease and unthreatened by this woman, I answered very honestly "No, she died in a water related accident." She did not say a single word but her expression spoke volumes. This woman was hurting for me. She opened her arms and, being a rather large woman, enveloped me in a big, warm hug. Then, with misty eyes, she placed her hand against my face and said "try to have a lovely Christmas and remember, there is heaven."

As she turned and walked away from me, I was struck by the stark contrast between this and the experience I had a few weeks ago. Two women, both Christians, both asking essentially the same questions. One left me feeling weak and hopeless, the other reminded me of the hope that I have. One made me want to punch her in the face, the other made me want to stay in her warm hug a little while longer. The difference was in the tone of voice. Where one seemed kind and compassionate, the other was cruel and accusatory. The difference came from deep within the hearts of these two women. I believe that both love the Lord, but only one of them allowed His love to spill over onto others. While the light of the holy spirit radiated from one, it was lost in ugliness in the other. Life is filled with choices and tonight I know which of theses two women I would choose to be like..........the one who was more like Christ.

Another Step

2010-12-04T13:12:00.000-08:00

There is a question that arises, I suspect, for everyone who experiences the death of a loved one. This is another one of those things that one never gives thought to until it is there, staring them in the face. What is to be done with the belongings of the one who is gone?

If I'd given in to the cry of my heart, her room would have remained untouched forever. Her things would have remained exactly the way they were the last time she was in the room. I'd begun to think of her room as a haven. I could go there at night when sleep evaded me or during the lonely days when the pain threatened to devour me. I could feel her presence there, smell her, picture her there with outstretched arms, waiting to be lifted from her crib. I could sit in the big pink chair where Jade so often read to her. I could cover myself with her pink blanket and rub it's silky edge against my face or clutch her bear to my heart, inhaling the scent of her. Often I rubbed my hands across her crib sheet, still wrinkled from where her sleeping form lay on it. I touched her shoes, looked through her glasses and ran my hand across her many outfits hanging in the closet. As if somehow her unaltered room could lessen the reality of what is, my heart longed to leave it exactly as it was.

Another part of me knew that making changes in her room was a necessary step in the grief process. A step needed, if not for myself, then for everyone else in my home. I knew that the day of feeling "ready" for this was not ever going to come. So I set a goal. I told myself that I would at least make some changes in her room before Thanksgiving. I dreaded this task and knew that doing it alone would not be the wisest of choices. Because Jamee and Jade were not overly interested in being a part of this, I asked my friends Karen and Kathy. I knew that they would remember many of her clothing items and could share in my sorrow as well as the joy of having been touched by her

With coffee mugs in hand, the three of us went to work. We sat on the floor of Laynee's room surrounded by mounds of clothing. But what does one do with clothes so precious that the heart cannot bear to part with them? How does one let go of the few things that are left of their child? An entire lifetime of memories are sewn into the fibers of those clothes. The only way to tackle this task was to begin. Karen and Kathy were there but once I began I became somewhat cut off from all but the precious pieces of material in my hands and the flood of memories that they prompted. We made piles. One pile consisted of items that I had bought in the off seasons, which she had never worn. These, along with a few things she had rarely worn, which did not have a great deal of memories attached to them, were given to Kathy's little grand daughter who lives in Tennessee. Another pile was made up of things that were most precious, a few of her dresses, her first school outfit, and some clothes with stains that I now cherish. These items, along with her shoes, school papers and art projects, items from the hospital the night she died, favorite toys and books, and special blankets will be preserved in a chest that Jim will make. This chest with her name carved in it will also contain the hundreds of cards we have received since she died and will be placed at the foot of our bed.

The last pile that we made consisted of those clothes that we love the most. The things she wore over and over. They are the things we picture her wearing in every day life. A friend very graciously offered to create a quilt of these items. Tonight she brought the comleted quilt, along with four smaller ones, created for our four older children. The kids have each placed theirs over their beds. The larger one was hung on the wall, in our basement, where the kids spend much of their time. When time allows, Jim will make a frame for it.

There is still much to done in her room. The crib still stands and will someday need to be taken down but it has been stripped of all by the mattress. Her torn window shade is still there and still torn and ........well it might be awhile longer before I can take that down. Her hot pink chair remains, the one she only sat in when she was on someone's (usually Jade's) lap. That chair is obnoxiously pink and matches nothing in our home, but I don't care, it holds a beautiful, sacred picture in my mind, an image of a child so deeply loved. There are few other, less frequently used items, which I really don't know what to do with. I suppose in time I'll think of something.

As I held her new quilt, the ache was deep. We remember every article of clothing, from the dresses, to the clothes she made filthy with her constant getting into things, to the PJ's we snuggled her in. Clothes, normal every day clothes, things I would have long ago passed on, probably to my little great niece if things were different. That is what I would have done if she were still here but because she is not, these pieces of fabric, sewn together into a masterpiece have become one of the most valuable items in our home.

I have pondered this step and all of the other steps of grief work and a question fills my mind. What exactly is this a step towards? Typically when we take a series of steps, we are striving for something, a goal or an expectation. What is the goal or the desire that we as baby loss mother's are pressing towards? Perhaps it is closure or maybe each step is born simply of the expectations of society. No doubt, many would say that it is a step towards healing but we mother's know better than that. This is not something from which we will ever heal. These steps do not make the pain less but perhaps they move us closer to the ever elusive thing called acceptance. My child is not coming back. Leaving her things, as if in waiting for her return, does not make reality any less so. I suppose it could be said that the goal for which we strive is that of a healthy balance. A balance which allows us to honor her in our hearts and in our home, yet does not cause us to remain stuck in our longing for her. As I look at the things that we have done in her memory, I am reminded that each of them was "another step." Her grave marker at the cemetary, the framed photos on the walls, her garden, special trees planted in the yard and now her quilts: all serve as bittersweet memories, bringing smiles of rememberance and tears of sadness. Above all, they serve as a reminder of the hope that we have. We have a daughter and a sister waiting to welcome us into heaven one day.

Laynee's Quilt...............

Made up of favorite T shirts

and sweet dresses

and hee hee shirts

and soft warm pajamas

and princess jackets

and warm winter hats

and tanks she wore almost daily

all bordered with the sheet from her crib

and her special blanky

Jamee's quilt contains the shirt she bought Laynee

in Paris during her summer trip to Europe

Jade's Quilt

Jamee's

Both boys are unphased by the "girliness"

of having a quilt made of little girl clothes hanging

in their otherwise masculine room.

They are Laynee's clothesand that fact trumps

pride, fashion and "coolness"

Grant' quilt

and Brock's

Thank you Bev.

They are priceless

Co-existence

2010-11-28T09:36:00.000-08:00

At our home, the better part of yesterday was spent decorating for Christmas. We put up the tree, hung the stockings above the fireplace and brought out our Christmas village. The girls put a second tree in the basement and added a few extra decorations that we normally do not have. It goes without saying that I fond myself pondering a year ago, our first Christmas without Laynee. The first Christmas during which our family felt incomplete.

Once again, I am amazed at how much I do not remember. I know that there were no trees or stockings or any other holiday trimmings with the exception of a candle in each of our front windows. In many ways the lack of memory seems merciful. Yet, at the same time, it leaves me wondering how we survived  and how we will make it through this and all of the holidays to come.

As we decorated the tree, my mind imagined the excitement and wide eyed wonder of my would be almost 4 year old. My mind's eye could see a tree with way too many ornaments on it's lower branches where she could reach. Our collection of ornaments contains many which are adoned with tumbprints, handprints, or tiny photographs.  There are ornaments constructed of felt, pipe cleaner, tiny beads, popsicle sticks and misplaced wiggly eyes or fuzzy ball noses.  Those are the ones which were made by our children and proudly displayed for all to see. My heart clenched at the knowledge that Laynee never had an oppurtunity to bring one of her beautiful hand made ornaments to me, hence, our tree will never have a piece of her personality on it. Instead, I unwrapped ornaments given to us last year which tell the story of a child taken far too soon. They are beautiful but not the kind that anyone ever wants to have hanging from their tree. Each time I pass, I am reminded that my child is in the arms of Jesus where she will spend her second Christmas in heaven. I know that I should be comforted by this knowledge, but the truth is that I don't want her to be in heaven, I want her here with me.

As I have done so many times, I must find a balance. The pain of grief refuses to dissipate. It has been absorbed into my existence.  There is a narrow place that allows me to enjoy the celebration with my living children while my heart aches for my child who is in heaven. Rejoicing and mouning can walk together.

Thanksgiving

2010-11-25T05:24:00.000-08:00

Last evening was busy with preparation for today's Thanksgiving meal. The void of Laynee's abscence is ever present. We do what needs doing in spite of the void. It's what we've learned to do. But last night, when the house finally quieted down and Jim and I were preparing for bed, the crushing, nearly debilitating weight returned. I don't want to do another Thanskgiving without her. I don't want another round of holidays to come and go without her laughter and joy. I am resigned to the knowledge that I will never again celebrate as fully as I once did. I can go through the motions, put on a happy face, and even enjoy the celebrations but I will never enjoy the holidays as completely as I once did. One of my children is missing and I that is not ever going to change, nor will it stop hurting completely.

Still, I refuse to celebrate Thanksgiving without a spirit of thankfulness. It is with greatful heart that I observe my five living children. They are young people of strong character and compassionate hearts, made better, I believe by our tragedy. They miss Laynee desperately, they hurt for her. They long for the joy and sunshine that Down Syndrome brought to our home but they have persevered beneath the burden of sorrow.

I am grateful for the love and mercy of our Lord. Without this I am nothing and can do nothing. I am humbled by the sacrifice that was made, more now than ever, having experienced the fierce intensity of giving up my child. Most of all I am grateful for the beautiful oppurtunity to be Laynee's mommy. I thank my God for 2years, 7 months and 7 days of the love that she gave us. Even knowing all of the pain we would face, I would choose to do it all again. The sorrow is great but the joy and peace that she taught us was far greater. Because my God gave up his son, I am going to see my daughter again someday. Until then I will wait, I will try to enjoy, I will celebrate the time that we have left, and praise my God for hope.It seems hard to believe that a single heart could be filled with so much thankfulness and so much sorrow, all at the same time. It is possible only because of Hope.

Thank You, Lord for every day that we had Laynee with us. Thank You for the hope that we get to see her again some day. Hold my baby close to you today. Tell her much I love her, tell her that I will see her again, hopefully very soon.

Once Again

2010-11-22T07:57:00.000-08:00

As we enter into the Thanksgiving week I find myself taking inventory of my life and giving thanks for the blessings that we have been given. For whatever reason, the last week has been especially diffiicult. My faith is weak right now and I struggle mightily against questions and doubts. There are still times when I can feel myself being sucked into desperation's black hole and I think "I'm not going to make it through this." However, what I have found is that there is always something or someone who reaches down and plucks me out of the pit.

Yesterday, as I sat in church, my heart was filled with thanksgiving for my church family. Though it seems much longer, Jim and I and the kids have only been attending Northfield Christian Fellowship for 6 years. I love the people in our church. They have come along side of us in this time of grief and have lifted us up. These are the people who have seen us in some of our lowest times, as well as our strongest times. There are those who have sat in the pews, after the services, and cried with me. There are older gentlemen, some who've buried children of their own, who come to me and put their arm around me or pat me on the back, they do not have words but I hear what they are saying to me. Through their silent presence, they are encouraging me and telling me that they have not forgotten. There are many who sit beside us and pray aloud, anytime, anywhere, knowing that words are inadequate but prayer is vital.

While it is true that church has been one of my most difficult places to be since Laynee was taken from us, it is also one of the most important places for us to be. There have been very few church services that I have been able to sit through without a flood of tears. I long to have her there with me. The many children in church make me hurt for her. I have sat in the church pews, under the preaching of God's word, and wrestled with my own thoughts, questions and doubts. In those same pews I have been made aware of God's undying love for us. There I have been reminded over and over that my God is in control of all things.

Yesterday as I slipped into the church pew, I felt weary and exhausted. I felt as if I had no fight left in me to ward off the ever present hands of desperation. As we sang in worship, I could feel the spirit there in the sanctuary, bringing me back, parting the shades of darkness so that I could see and feel his presence once again. We sang this song and I was once again humbled by the steadfast love and patience of our Lord. I was reminded that even when we lose sight, when we fall off the tracks, he never ever leaves us. He draws us back to him again and again. Though last week I seemed to be in a place of darkness, today I find that I have come full circle once again. Once again I'm in that place of quiet, peace, and restfulness. As we sang this song I was once again awed by the awareness that my little girl is in heaven with Jesus.

Jesus Christ, I think upon Your sacrifice

You became nothing, poured out to death

Many times I've wondered at Your gift of life

And I'm in that place once again

I'm in that place once again

And once again I look upon the cross where You died

I'm humbled by Your mercy and I'm broken inside

Once again I thank You

Once again I pour out my life

Now You are exalted to the highest place

King of the heavens, where one day I'll bow

But for now, I marvel at Your saving grace

And I'm full of praise once again

I'm full of praise once again

Thank You for the cross

Thank You for the cross, my Friend

Once Again

2010-11-19T17:30:00.000-08:00

I found this picture in my uncle's photo album on facebook and I just had to share it.

Laynee with her Jade. She's so radiantly beautiful, so happy. She absolutely

takes my breath away.

Laughter

2010-11-17T16:27:00.000-08:00

Today I found myself missing the laughter that Laynee used to bring to our home. On the days when the kids are in school and I am home alone, the house is so quiet. I miss the silly little things that she was constantly doing to make me laugh. We have plenty of laughter in our home now but it is of a different sort. The laughter that Laynee brought was so spontaneous, born of her pure innocence. She was so busy, so determined, so ornery, and so incredibly funny. I miss her silly faces, her expressions, her bossiness, and her dances. I miss dancing with her in the kitchen when no one was watching and singing completely off key to hear her laugh at me. I miss the laughter that came when one of the kids hid behind a chair to jump out with a BOO. And calling to everyone to come quick to see the predicament she'd gotten herserlf into this time. I think back to when the kid's friends would be around and she would keep them all in stitches with her silly ways. I long to hear the sound drifting through my window of my niece, Dani and nephew, Garrett laughing with Laynee. I ache to hear her delight on the swings.

I realize now that we took all that laughter for granted. We didn't cherish that laughter like we should have. I can't help wondering if we will ever again laugh with such carefree abandonment.

Dear Laynee,

2010-11-16T20:05:00.000-08:00

I am missing you something fierce tonight. Daddy and I went to a visitation together. The mother of some of our friends died a few days ago. I know that she is up in heaven and I think she's probably making you laugh because she had a way of making people laugh and she really loved little people. But I also know that the people left here are going to miss her alot.

After the visitation Daddy and I stopped at your grave. We don't go there together very often. I go there all the time and daddy goes alot, but not usually together. It hurt to go together because we know how much the other is hurting.

I heard this song today and it made me cry. Of course, I did not write this song but the words are just what I'm thinking all the time. This hole in my heart just seems to get bigger and bigger. Missing you is not getting any better. Tonight my arms hurt from wanting to hold you.

I miss you and I love you so much
Mommy

Choices

2010-11-14T15:22:00.000-08:00

I continue to be amazed at how time keeps marching on. Though it seems implausible under the circumstances, the phrase "Life goes on" remains absolute. The pain of grief has not decreased with time, but it is different. With much hard work and determination, the chaotic messiness of traumatic stress has diminished somewhat. In it's aftermath remains nothing but deep, lonely emptiness. The combination of trauma and grief seems to have eaten a cavernous hole at the very core of my being.

Nearly everything that I do these days is accompanied by a feeling of apathy. I go to my job and the passion and zeal that I once possessed is completely nonexistent. I am employed only for the sake of being employed.  The responsibilities that I have around my home feel empty and meaningless. Homemaking tasks: cooking, cleaning, paying bills, etc. are accomplished only because it is what is expected of me. I look out my window and see jobs that should be done but I really don't care at all about them.   While I enjoy one to one time with close friends, social activities involving several people hold little or no appeal. I have developed a monmouth sized aversion to large groups. The definition of " large group" in my book is any number greater than 5 people. I have, for quite some time, had a lack of interest in the mundane.   I cannot recall the last time I actually looked forward to anything other than just being home with my family. The concept of excitement is utterly foreign.

If there is one thing that I have come to understand about the path of grief it is that, while we may not have had a say in whether or not we were placed on this road, the ensuing journey is filled with choices that only we can make. In the first months after the accident the choices we made were basic, made out of an innate will to survive.  The most difficult choices were whether or not to get out of bed each day and to put food in our mouth when the clock said to eat. We went to the places that our schedules dictated and did the things that life deemed necessary. In a sense, life, with it's continuous onward march, made our decisions for us. As time moves on and we continue to trudge through the pain, the choices have increased in complexity. A large part of the difficulty comes in recognizing that there are, indeed, choices that need to be made lest we become stuck in grief.

It goes without saying that in many ways Laynee's abscence has been a dominating focus in our life. Loss of this magnitude tends to become a pivotal point around which our very existence spins.  The pain, at times, seems larger than life, larger than our reason for living. The enormity of sorrow's weight squashes any desire to move ahead. Therein lies one of our greatest choices: to embrace life, in spite of our sorrow. The choice comes with acceptance that things will never be the same, that our hearts will always hurt. Our heart's deepest longing is to be in heaven, the place where we will once again hold our precious child.    Yet, for now, we are here, residing on this earth. We can remain stuck in our grief and mourning or we can join in the march onward that continues, regardless of our desire to be a part of it.

There is one question that hovers, like a cloud, over every choice that looms ahead of us. What exactly is one to do with the sorrow and sadness? How does one move forward when the heart is filled with such pain and emptiness?   My heart and soul have, in every concievable way, protested the direction that my life has taken. I rebel against the idea of going anywhere or doing anything that allows the potential for more hurt and pain in my life. I have found that I often become self preoccupied, which I recognize as sin that I need to cast aside and seek forgiveness for. I must acknowledge the truth, that God has a plan for my life. While Laynee's time on earth is finished, mine continues. Remaining stuck in grief is not what God wants for me, he desires that I move forward and embace the life that he has given me. And so I come to him daily, hourly bringing all of the pain and placing it at the foot of cross. With aching heart I accept that Laynee is gone, that she is not coming back and that I will never be the same. I come to him, with heart void of dreams, goals or aspirations and seek to be led into whatever it is that he has for me to do.

"The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me;

your love, O Lord, endures forever—

do not abandon the works of your hands"

Psalm 138:8

Stupidity

2010-11-09T20:02:00.000-08:00

Isn't there a saying that says something like   "stupid is as stupid does" or "stupid says and stupid is" or something like that? Obviously I'm not one to use the statement much. In fact I really am not fond of the word stupid. However, today I had an experience that has left me with no other word to descibe it ...... sometimes people say and do things that are just plain stupid. I do not think that they have evil intent, their motive is not one of viciousness, they just do not think. Their brain simply does not stop to think about how incredibly stupid are the words coming from their mouth.

I have already had my meltdown over this. Fortunately I was surrounded by great people who intervened and supported me. As the day has gone on, my sadness has turned to anger. I stand in disbelief at the cruel, callousness of some people. I want to strike out and hit something, instead I pray for grace and love for one who, right now, seems very unlovable.

This encounter involved a woman that I have always viewed as rather rude and borderline obnoxious.   She began asking about my children and naturally Laynee's accident came up.   The questions she asked were bold and heartless. Her face was an ugly grimace through the entire dialogue. She appeared disgusted and not in the least bit sympathetic. She kept saying "How could that happen?" "How did you let that happen?" It felt as if the walls of the room were closing in on me and there was a loud rushing sound in my head. I knew that I had to get away from this woman......and fast. I was either going to faint or injure the woman.   I really don't remember much except that I left the room very abruptly.

I usually try not to make too much of the things that people say. I know that as a general rule, people are trying to be polite, they do not know what to say and sometimes say the wrong thing.   However, there are times like this when a line is crossed and I cannot find it in me to believe that they were trying to be polite.   My guess is that she was trying to fish for information. She wanted to know the answer to questions like "who was watching her?" and "where were you?" But her words came at as accusations.

"How did you LET that happen?"   This suggests that we walked away from Laynee, knowing she was in danger, and ALLOWED her to die. I abhor any words, even if they were unintentional, that might suggest something so false.    There is no end to the number of times our family has asked ourselves this question, "how did we let it happen?" This is a question that our adversary would love to destroy us with. To have a human being, a Christian woman ask something so ridiculous, can only be descibed as stupid.

My Helper

2010-11-03T07:44:00.000-07:00

Baking cookies this morning and wishing with every ounce of my being that I had my little helper dancing around the kitchen. The things that hit me, like a knife through the chest, never cease to amaze me. This morning it is the dough beaters. They scream at me that she is not here to lick them clean.

In the diswasher, I spy her bottle. The one with clouds and stars on it.

Apparently, she spied it too.

I miss those toes, beautiful, beautiful, Down Syndrome toes.

If you click on the picture it will enlarge and you can see her sweet toes up close.

Laynee Bug, Laynee Bug

HEY

Laynee, Laynee Bug!!!!

Why do I love you so much?!?!?!?