My Book- Not the end-

September 15th.
A page from that first journal.
The first page.
A page written in my mother's hand.
A page from the story of my life.
September 15th.

The truth is that my story began long before September 15th.

There have been many chapters in my life.
I look back now and my life is a book.
A book full of chapters.

I look back at some chapters and I wonder what my character was thinking- I laugh at her mistakes and nod, knowing that she would learn from them. I smile at the times her heart was broken and she thought she would never get through- because I know that she did. I've seen her grow from child- to adolescent- to young adult- to woman. Her transformation before my very eyes.

I look back at some of the supporting characters and know that while they may have been in the book for just a chapter or two- there was a reason for that. There was a reason they were there, there was a reason why they no longer are- a chapter.

I have made peace with those chapters. Those characters I thought would be there until the end of the book, but I now know they will not be. And that is ok now.

But- I used to stay up at night, thinking of those characters. Wondering if somehow I could rewrite those chapters- make things different- change things. But in the end I know that the story was written and there was a reason for it- each laugh- each tear- each rage- all of it. It helped shape that main character. It helped shape me.

And then there was September 15th. It is a chapter I have read over and over and wished somehow that that chapter, that chapter, could have been different. I look back at September 14th and wonder if there was something she could have done- that would have had September 15th ending a different way. But there will be no revisions- no editing. The truth is the character did all she could. She carried two babies for 39 weeks. Two babies who were alive and kicking on September 14th. She had no idea what she would find on the next page and she did everything in her power-expecting September 15th to be written differently. Everything.

September 15th. Such a chapter. A chapter that has totally reshaped her character. A chapter that she looks back on still. Flips back to and learns. There is so much there- so much she is still discovering- so much still there to learn- September 15th- the reason she understands that some characters will not remain for an entire book- September 15th- the reason she understand that some new characters will be there until the final pages.

I look back and I learn.

And yet I read ahead. For I know that the best chapters are yet to come. I know that- as with every great book- as exciting and wonderful and painful as one chapter can be, the next is always better. Always.

My life.
One big book.
Still being written.
And I know it will have a happy ending.

Not the end.

Especially on Mother's Day.

Mother's Day.

I think of those with children at home. People like me. Pins upon our blouses. We wear a smile. But there is something hidden. Something we keep from you. Tomorrow we will go through our day thinking of that person. The one who made us a mother. The one who you don't see. You may not even remember. But we will.
Especially on Mother's Day.

I think of those who have no children at home. At least no children that you can see. They go to the stores- see the signs, the flowers and the cards. They watch the strollers and carts and want to scream, "I am a mother!" "I am a mother too!" But no one else sees. No one else may even remember. But they will.
Especially on Mother's Day.

And I think of those with no children at home. And none in the heavens. I think of those that prayed for months. And months turned into years. And years turned into decades. But no one came. They have done this before. And they will do it again. Remember the struggle. A struggle that no one else sees or may even remember. But they will.
Especially on Mother's Day.

We all had dreams. Dreams of breakfasts in bed, fists full of dandelions and painted plaster creations. Dreams of laughter and hugs, and sticky kisses.
Dreams of being a mother.
And we will remember those dreams.
Especially on Mother's Day.

Our journeys to 'Mother' may have taken different paths.
Paths we wished would have taken us a different course.
But we will all wonder, "Why?" And remember.
Especially on Mother's Day.

We are in this together. We are different but the same. We are in every city, state, country and Continent. We will close our eyes and dream, and remember, and wonder and wish-
Especially on Mother's Day.

Wishing you peace,
Especially on Mother's Day.
L

Fields of Flowers

Years before I changed.
Years before I became a mother- or even a wife- I received a gift of a framed picture of a rose. Underneath it were the words, "I can complain because the the rosebush has a thorn, or rejoice because the thorn bush has a rose, it's all up to me." I love that quote still and find such truth in it and it still sits upon my desk- A reminder when I start to feel like I'm stuck in the thorn bushes of life.

It's so easy.
It's so easy to get lost in your grief- to get stuck in it. The truth is that there is nothing in this world as painful as losing someone you love. And when that someone is your child- there is an added sting. Our children are supposed to outlive us- not the other way around.

For a long time I only saw the thorns.
It was hard to see the roses.
I couldn't see them.
They didn't exist for me.
Why- Why after 39 weeks of an amazing pregnancy- Why would God not spare him? Not let him come home to us? There were no roses in that!

But the seasons passed-
Springs came-
And the roses bloomed and I began to see them.

I saw the roses- I saw you- I saw people who came- people who remembered- people who said his name- people like you- an entire community- I close my eyes and I can see fields of flowers- fields of blessings that all came-
All came-
because he didn't.

It still pains me that he isn't here.
It pained me today.
He missed the game today.
The one he would have played with his brother.
Their first ball game.

But he was there- watching- looking down- from his own field of flowers- that beautiful place where he waits for me. Where they wait for us- looking down- sending us roses amidst the thorns. Showering us with them- if only we open our eyes to them. Look to the heavens- tell them you're ready! See them!

Thinking of those around the world tonight and remembering.

And sending kisses to my little ball player in the heavens.
Did you see your brother today?
He said your name- spoke about you.
Makes me think you were there-
in the fields-
watching-
Thank you for that.