feeling loved by strangers...

It's been a few weeks.  Hard to believe I have been able to stay away from the cemetery that long.  In all honesty, I have a hard time finding peace standing there in freezing weather.   I feel rushed and unable to really focus my thoughts into prayer.  My last visit was Christmas Eve to show the kids the sweet little tree my husband and I had decorated for him a few days prior.  After mentioning it out loud this week, I was running out of excuses not to go.

I thought I knew what I would find.  Knocked over, frozen decorations all over a grave that was proven unvisited by the lack of footprints.  As I pulled in, my heart raced and for the first time since I was brand new to this, I was a bit scared to be there. 

Was I ever surprised!!  Only about half of the grass was still covered in snow.  Comically, CJ is always covered by a drift and the overhead towering trees toss down baseball sized snowballs constantly. But then I noticed all of the footprints.  It was so clear who had been visiting my little boy.  First, his buddy the raccoon is definitely still a regular! Little footprints all over the stone made me laugh. But the drift was what really surprised me.  MANY sets of footprints. I added mine and was prepared to survery his eclectic Christmas display dismantled by the winter weather.  Instead, what I found was a completely rearranged display.  His little tree had been moved  few feet.  Everything was there, but in a very different arrangement. There were little shoe marks by the tree.  All of the other things were similar- nothing where we had left it, but lovingly and respectfully standing. Another red rose had been left on top of his stone.

The footprints were what finally made me cry.  Mr. Coco to his right obviously shared the visitor who left the rose. 11 were placed at Mr. Coco's stone, and very distinct women's heel footprints left a path to where she had left one for CJ.  This sweet action has happened before.  I think CJ will be bringing his neighbor a new plant in the spring. 

There were little footprints around the redecorated tree.  I followed this over to the left 4 graves to little Jasmine who died at age 6.  I've seen her large Mexican family visiting her before, and felt so much thanks for the little hands that walked over to straighten up CJ's tree.  I hope his little tree lit up with solar lights brought those little hands a smile. 

I ended up standing at a newly dug grave for a man just a few years younger than myself when I followed another set of adult prints. The frozen ground mounded up and funeral flowers half covered in snow on top of the mound. A temporary sign left by the funeral home told me his name and age. I pictured his wife or mother doing what I have done so many times while I visit... needing to redirect my attention before I completely collapse by wandering around in curiosity.  I hope whoever it was felt comfort or at least giggled at the over the top display at CJ's little speck of earth.

It takes a village.  No truer words have ever been penned.  I never understood how intricately we are all woven together until I lost my son.  I have been saved by a Starbucks barista who have pulled up a chair to chat when I tried to hide in the corner behind my shades and laptop.  A hairdresser who placed a cool towel over my swollen red eyes and let me cry, a lady in Hobby Lobby who offered me tissue and helped me pick out flowers for his grave... my list goes on and on.  Yet I'm still surprise to see a rose left by a stranger, or little prints of a child who straightened up his tree. 

We spend a lot of time sharing the beautiful little signs of love shared with us.  I am very proud to say we dish it out there pretty well, too.  CJ taught us that.  Seventeen months after sitting in our church next to his little coffin, and I am finally starting to feel some peace.  It still hurts like nothing I can ever describe, but there is such a crazy amount of peace that comes at me from all of these little signs of a community that may never really know us, but continues to carry us through those snow drifts. 

I like to leave you with a challenge often, so why should today be any different? hahaha!  Look around your community for a tiny place to be of service. You never know when picking up a fallen Christmas decoration can be the simple act of love that gets a broken heart through the day.

One quick shout out....


Happy Birthday to the most selfless man I have ever met!  Nate, when we married all those years ago I knew I never had to worry about you loving me. I can not count the amount of times I have watched you pull over to help push a car out of the snow, headed over to help a neighbor with a home repair,  spent your only day off working on a project with one of our kids, held open endless doors, carried mounds of packages and shopping bags, and simply loved us with all you have.  I love you. I love who I am when I'm with you. I love knowing that you understand what is behind my eyes. Your quirky sense of humor and enormous heart are the core of our family.  I thank God every day for you and pray that the next year is full of blessings.  Happy 44th Birthday my love!!!

It caught up with me...

I've been in avoidance mode.  Taking ques from those around me uncomfortable with the conversation on a child in heaven, I've put a lot of effort into living quietly.  Grieving quietly. Trying to simply pull myself together. It's been over a year and it is clearly what many friends and family expect from me.

We can be intensely private people.  While I share daily on several social media sites, like the majority I filter what I post.  I try to give a honest glimpse into our journey living without our son, but many big details of our life are kept private.  Locations and specifics are often purposely deceiving for the safety of our family.  But much is bluntly put out there for the world to see.

So why an I struggling so hard to live my journey honestly? Exhaustion from being judged. Plain and simple. It is very common for me to receive private messages expressing how some think I a faithful woman would behave better than I often do.

Well, I'm once again calling bullshit on this journey.  My son died.  I delivered a beautiful, perfect looking baby who never took a breath. I watched as my husband briefly held him and cried. I watched his sisters snuggle him and kiss him goodbye. I laid there in a hospital bed wondering if I was killing the souls of our daughters by including them. I looked into my parents eyes as they cradled their only grandson in their arms.  I died a bit that day in ways that will never be fixed.

So for whatever reason, I'm struggling. Rx bottles I haven't touched in months will need to be refilled soon.  Sleep escapes me even with that help.  Nightmares are back and amplified.  The vivid memories in the morning leave me confused and panicked.

I'm still functioning through the days.  Things are a bit easier with a recent change we made that has lessened some  financial burdens for us.  Once again, a decision that we have hidden to avoid  judgment.

Maybe tomorrow will be the day I find my backbone again!  We stepped out of our comfort zone and have had a very social weekend. Dinner at a busy casino with friends, joining our adult child and her bf to hang out at a neighborhood bar late one night, and accepting an invite from our teenagers to join them and friends for bowling.  That is an incredible amount of social pressure for one weekend for us!

And with the realization of some life progress, I'll leave you with this thought...

Try not to push someone through a hard journey. Forcing them to fake happiness is not how they actually achieve it.  Even after our crazy, busy, happy few days, I need a few to cry.  I need to be encouraged to acknowledge EVERYTHING I'm really dealing with. Not just the feelings that make those around me comfortable.

Thank you to all of you beautiful angels that follow along and send your love and prayers.  Keep them coming and know that I am praying for all of you.  It's just one way I try to #doitforcj.