Friday, April 24, 2009

The Wonderings

When I was little I wondered about it.

I wondered if I had a twin what it would be like.

I wondered what she would have looked like- what it would have been like to grow up with a friend so close to me- what it would have been like to have someone to share all my secrets with- my childhood- my adulthood.

But I didn't have a twin.

But he did.

And he's starting to wonder.

I never know when to expect them- but they come.

The Wonderings.

"Did he look like me?"
"I think so."

"Does he still see me?"
"I think he does, Joe."

"Can I talk to him?"
"If you want. I do."

And after he asks a question he'll begin to talk about something else, but I look at him and I know. I know he's filed it away. Trying to figure out the puzzle of what his story is. Some pieces I have and I can give him now- others I will wait to share- and some I will never know. But he's filing away the pieces he has. Trying to make them fit. His wonderings.

And I know he hasn't always looked to me to for his answers. Some he has found in his heart.

At school he was talking about heaven- and he was overheard by his teacher telling his friends that there is a castle there.- and when asked by another child who the castle belonged to- He replied, that the castle is for everyone and that he would see Andrew there- that Andrew was his brother- and that he can go there because Jesus died on the cross and rose to heaven so we can all go there to.

To the castle.

And he is- no doubt in a Grand Castle in the midst of a Savior who rescued me. Who saved us. And, like Jonasen, I have found answers in my heart. I can see Andrew. Now five. And I talk to him. And I like to think he knows. But I will continue to wonder, and to ponder and to try to fit the pieces together as best I can.

My Wonderings.

But I know some pieces will always be lost- just beyond my grasp- But perhaps I'll find them again, when I go to that Grand Castle.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

My Tears

I wondered if it would ever happen. But I didn't think it would.

I had no concept of time, but I had the nights.
I had so many nights. And the nights were our's.

The nights were our time. My new baby would sleep. My husband would sleep. And I would grab his journal. I would grab his journal and sit curled up in a chair, cry and write him. I wondered if it would ever stop- my tears- I wondered how it was possible that I did not run out of tears, but then again this was my son. And he was gone. How could I not cry? How could I not do this every single night? Not write to him? Not cry out his name? Not cry?

I wondered if it would ever happen. But I didn't think it would.

And yet it happened. One night it happened. Months and months later, it happened. I sat there, and I looked out the window at the starry sky and I knew- I didn't need to cry and I wouldn't cry. I could have done it. I could have thought of him and missed him and not cried.

And that made me cry.

My grief was mine. It was all I had. The only thing I had. I had my dreams and my tears. My dreams died when he left- and now my tears were leaving too. Letting go of my grief- my tears- felt as if I was letting go of him. Somehow I was moving on. And a mother shouldn't move on-

The night I couldn't cry, I cried.

I felt I had failed as a mother. I was moving on. I was leaving behind my dreams, my grief, my tears.

And so my nights passed. And sometimes I wrote him without tears. But I remembered. I could look to his heaven and smile. I could close my eyes and see him. I knew he was there. I knew he was safe. And I could smile.

And so I remember him. And sometimes I cry- but mostly I smile. I smile and breathe. He's made me stronger. He's grown me up and taught me lessons that perhaps I may never have known had not God placed him in my life.

I look to his heaven and I know he's there smiling back because his mom found her strength- the strength to let go of a grief that had gripped her- Had taken her hostage. She was able to let it go- and when she opened her eyes he was still there- still residing in her heart- still as close to her as ever- maybe more.

He knew. He had forgiven. And so could she. Forgiven herself. For losing him. But not for letting go. She would never let go. Not really.

And he knows.

Monday, April 13, 2009


Does it look like this?
I know your name is there.
I know that you are there.
So peaceful, so calm.
I can hear it.
I can feel it.
I feel you.
And I feel Peace.
Your Peace.
And I miss you.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

always on my mind.

I often write about the times when I pause and think about my babies.
Today I am pausing and writing about a friend.
On my doorstep this morning was a package from across the country and I wondered what it was or who it was from, but when I saw that it was addressed to "Dora" I knew in a moment it was from my dear friend, Julie. A fabulous woman, wife, mom & teacher that I worked with a few years ago.
I opened the package and the first thing I saw was a card that read, "impressed, amazed, inspired" (by you)
Just the card made me pause and I could feel a lump forming in my throat.
Julie tried to have her son for a long time- over 10 years (or about that) if my memory serves me right. Julie went to countless doctors appointments and prayed countless prayers that one day she would be a mommy.
I remember wondering why- why this was so hard for her- why she and her amazing husband couldn't have the joy of seeing that positive pregnancy test-
And then I remembered that sometimes God doesn't answer your questions in your time. For while we worked together Julie got amazing news... Someone was on the way! God had answered her prayers. He had said Yes!
And now looking at her sweet Bennett, I know she knows that the best things in life are worth the struggle, worth the frustration, worth the tears and worth the wait.
You, dear friend, are an inspiration! I hope that one day Bennett will know the depths of your love. But as a mother myself, I wonder if our children will ever truly know the depths of our hearts-
And so I opened the package and pulled out an amazing black shadow-box. No doubt made by the loving hands of my creative, thoughtful and loving friend.
My two butterflies- who flew away too soon-
and four simple words-
"Always on my mind"
Thank you friend. For knowing my heart, for taking the time, for remembering my children, for making me pause.
I love you.