Two Years

 

Today is your birthday, Cole McKee. Two years ago, you entered this world and changed my life forever. You were so tiny and sweet. You were beautifully unique, and your little spirit left an imprint on many, many hearts. We almost lost you when you were born, but God wasn't quite ready to take you just yet. He had a plan for you from the moment you were conceived, and although I don't fully know or understand it, I trust it and know it is perfect. For 4 1/2 months I watched you struggle, fight, and grow. Each day, I loved you more and more. You were amazing, and God worked some big miracles in your life. I miss you so much, my baby boy. Although your birth was scary and brought such uncertainty, YOU, my love, brought me such joy. Happy birthday, Cole. I love you.

2 weeks

 



4 months

Comfort and Joy

Like the rest of our country, I am deeply heartbroken over the events of last Friday in Newtown, Connecticut. I keep thinking about all those precious little ones who died. I also keep thinking about the parents of those little ones. I know what it's like to lose a child, but I can't help but think that my grief would somehow be different if I had lost a child in such a sudden, horrific way.

 

Since Cole's death, I have felt a true sense of comfort and joy. One might wonder how that is possible. How do you lose a child and then feel that inner contentment? Eric and I know that our help has come from the Lord. Our faith and belief in Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior has given us the assurance that Cole is having a glorious, perfect life now. He has more in Heaven than he would have ever had here on Earth; more than we could ever imagine. Our faith also gives us certainty that we will one day see Cole again. I heard someone this morning on television speaking about joy in the midst of grief, and it confirmed how I have felt since losing Cole. Joy is not the same as happiness. When I am hit with a wave of sadness, my joy is still there. It's an underlying, peaceful feeling that is hard to describe. I believe it's a gift.

 

In the spirit of the Christmas season, I pray the parents in Newtown will find comfort and joy as they deal with their sorrow. I pray the same for anyone who has lost a child or other loved ones. The pain may run deep, but joy is possible.

 

 



 

 

Safely Home

 

Let your grieving be not long,

for I'm home at last where I belong.

Understand - if I were given a choice,

I'd remain here where I now rejoice.

 

It would be unthinkable to return to earth

from this land of matchless beauty and worth.

Gazing at Christ's loving, majestic face,

I know deeper dimensions of grace.

 

Do not think I tasted death 'before my time',

rather it was precisely in God's wise design.

At the appointed moment He opened the door

to wonders and splendors undreamed before.

 

It's all true - never fear,

and soon you will join me here

Where there's no more crying, no more sorrow,

with Christ the Lord in every tomorrow.

 

- Mae Fortson

 

Weavings Retreat

Last weekend I attended a retreat for mothers who have lost children. It was local, but I was away from home for two nights. I had been feeling rather anxious about going, but when the day came to go, I felt ready. Nervously ready.

Going in, I didn't know anyone there except the social worker who planned it. As I approached the entrance, a couple of volunteers greeted me and immediately offered to carry my bags and lead me to the sign-in table. Overwhelming? You bet. I guess they wanted to make sure we didn't turn around and leave. I went to my room for the first time to find a basket of goodies on my bed. Then I headed down the hall to a lounge to meet some of the other moms and make my name tag for the weekend. I was told to take a photo of Cole to another room where I would find a table with candles and empty photo stands. I placed the photo on one of the stands and lit Cole's candle. So far so good, but I didn't know who my roommate was yet.

We had dinner, then it all really began. Twenty-two moms and all the volunteers gathered in yet another large room. The moms sat in a circle, and one by one, we shared our child's story. Before the retreat, we had all received a packet which included a long strip of white fabric and a sharpie. The instructions were to write our child's story on the sash, however we wanted. So that first night, our sashes were shown to the other moms as we told our stories, then they were woven together on a table.

 Cole's sash

 

It reads: God's SPECIAL creation , our BEAUTIFUL baby boy, mommy's SUNSHINE, a life of MIRACLES, little FIGHTER, incredibly LOVED always , He brought us JOY, a BLESSING to many , MISSED beyond measure

 

 

The emotion in the room that night as we shared about our children was heavy. We heard about illnesses, accidents, and drug overdoses; young children, teenagers, and adults. One mom had a stillborn son. Another mom lost two of her adult children within months of each other. I can honestly tell you that despite all of the differences in ages and circumstances, the group as a whole instantly connected, and it was wonderful.

 

We had small groups within the larger group, and mine was awesome. There were two other moms who lost babies, and one who lost her two year old. We had two very lovely group leaders who not only facilitated our discussions, but they really really listened, encouraged us, and even cried with us. Our small group met several times throughout the weekend.

Late Friday night, I finally met my roommate. She asked me if I was a believer, and I excitedly replied, "yes!". Something I had shared during the large group meeting led her to ask me that question. A bond quickly formed, and we stayed up chatting until about 1 am.

 

The rest of the weekend consisted of art projects, pampering (a much needed massage for me), and some rituals I had pretty mixed feelings about. I spent some time outside walking the labyrinth on the property. The colors of the trees had really begun to change that weekend, and they were gorgeous.

 

 

 



entrance to the labyrinth





the labyrinth and lovely trees





the tree in the center of the labyrinth where moms,
past and present, left tokens for their children



 

I thought this was nice

 

I went into this weekend skeptical and uncertain that I would get a whole lot out of it. What I did get, though, are new, beautiful friends that understand my loss and how I feel, and that is priceless. The stories of their children are now rooted in my heart. What I also got were more opportunities to share Cole's life with others, which I love to do. I tried to emphasize what a gift and blessing he was, and most importantly, to express the gratitude I feel for his life and the immense JOY I now am able to feel in the midst of my grief. If nothing else, that was truly my goal for the weekend: to show that it IS possible to feel joy. Our last circle time on Sunday allowed each of us to tell our wish for the others. I'll repeat it here because it truly is my wish, my prayer really, that anyone who has lost a child will be able to find some joy. Even just a little bit.

 

Here are a couple of sweet bonuses from the weekend: I was able to share about Cole's Gift to the whole group, and even had a new friend tell me she wants to make a donation.  And throughout the weekend, I bonded in particular with a gal who lost her precious, 8 week old baby girl ,Corey, just this past May to a rare genetic condition. Corey's momma and I like to think that Corey and Cole are now little friends in Heaven. Corey and Cole, I mean, how cute is that?

 

I'm thankful for Weavings and for the people that made it possible. And I'm thankful for the God-given strength to get there, enjoy it, and endure it.