This year has been a tough year in our family, and not many of us have felt like celebrating. But today is a day to celebrate, because it Papaw and Aunt Becca's birthday! They share the same birthday, which is pretty special. I'm hopeful that we will all get to spend some time together tomorrow.
This morning I was thinking about Papaw and Aunt Becca of course, but I was also thinking about our family in general. You are blessed to have the most awesome family. They have been here for Daddy and I from the beginning, making sure that we are okay and helping us do whatever we can to honor and cherish your memory. I am still brought to tears by the pictures of you that many have up in their homes.
I am reminded today of a Disney movie centered around the theme of family. In it, a little Hawaiian girl named Lilo adpots an ugly "dog" that she names Stitch. It turns out that Stitch really isn't a dog but a genetic experiment who has escaped from another planet and crash-landed on earth. He isn't the most loving or selfless creature, but Lilo's love, faith and strong belief in family teaches Stitch what it means to care about someone else.
Lilo's parents passed away when she was very little, and there is a scene in the movie where she is looking at a picture of her parents. She says to Stitch, "'Ohana' means 'family'. 'Family' means 'no one gets left behind or forgotten.'"
You are never left behind or forgotten, even on the days we celebrate. I often think about the reunion you and I will have in heaven, but today I will rejoice in the fact that you will get to meet your Papaw and Aunt Becca one day too. Until then, do me a favor and wish them both a Happy Birthday from heaven.
The company Mommy works for celebrated it's 30th anniversary last week. We had a luncheon on Wednesday, and the founder of our company came to speak about the company's early days. He talked about his decision to start his own business, the struggles that the company went through in the first few years, and the resulting success the company has experienced over the past several years.
Something he said caught my attention. He said that at the time he was thinking about starting his own company, he was in his early 40's with a good paying job. He was happy where he was in life. But he saw an opportunity to do something that no one else was doing, and that opportunity intrigued him. He was faced with a choice to either "hunker down or take a chance."
That particular sentence from his speech has been rolling around in my head the last few days. Hunker down means to "take shelter, be or go into hiding, to keep out of sight for protection and safety." The term is most often used when talking about an approaching storm, as in "we are going to hunker down and wait it out." What struck me about our founder's statement is that he used the term "hunker down" to refer to a time in his life when there was no storm - a time when he was happy, comfortable, and safe.
The choice to hunker down or take a leap of faith is a choice that all of us are faced with at some point in our lives. In reflecting on our founder's statement, it occurs to me that the strongest temptation to hunker down in life often comes when our lives are going as planned. My faith has grown in this storm, and it's easy right now for me to allow God to be in control. When we feel there's nothing left to lose, I think we are all a little bolder in our faith and willingness to take a chance. But when my life is good and the skies are clear, it is harder for me to allow God to captain my ship. I don't want to hand over controls and risk that He'll steer my ship into new waters or take me away from the bounties I'm currently enjoying.
I hope that I emerge from this storm with greater ability to give God control over my life in all circumstances. He has a better vantage point than I do, and I know he will get me through whatever type of weather may come. "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)
I don't believe in coincidences anymore. I used to use the word all the time to describe something seemingly random that happened at just the right time or just the right place. Now, I realize that there is nothing random or coincidental about God's work in our lives. A pastor I knew once called these things "God Sightings" - the recognition of the small, everyday miracles that God performs.
I have had so many God Sightings since you died. One is the sweet gift of the snow globe with the momma elephant and her baby inside that I told you about the other day. I didn't tell you the story of how I met the friend that gave me the gift. I hope she doesn't mind, but I want to share the story with you today. Her gift has proved more meaningful than she could have imagined (but not more meaningful than God imagined).
A few weeks ago, a leather bracelet that I gave Daddy from a well-known retailer of personalized items broke. I had ordered it for him the week that you passed away, and he wore it every single day, taking it off only at night and to shower. I knew how much it meant to him, and I was devastated that it broke.
I wasn't sure that the retailer would do anything about it, but I contacted them anyway to ask. I sent a private message through their Facebook page with the order information and the meaning behind the bracelet. I received the most compassionate response from one of their employees - it literally brought me to tears. Over the course of the next day or so, Daddy and I picked out a new bracelet and the retailer shipped it to us overnight.
But I walked away from that transaction with more than just a happy resolution to my problem. I walked away with a new friend. Over the course of the few days, I learned that the employee helping me was experiencing her own life-changing loss. Her sweet husband (who happens to share the same name as Daddy) passed away only 2 short months before we connected. We began to share our stories and our pain. We made an instant connection, and I invited her to personally friend me on Facebook so that we could encourage one another in the weeks and months to come.
When I received her gift, I told her that one of the things I loved most about it was how the elephants are white and sparkling, as if they have been reunited in heaven. This morning, I went in your nursery and held the globe in my hands, studying the beautiful mother and baby inside.
I wound up the globe and watched the elephants dance. The tune played sweetly, and it caught my ear as something recognizable although I couldn't place it. There wasn't anything in the box to identify the tune, so I went online to see if I could find the name of it. When I found the page describing the globe, I burst into tears. The name of the tune is "Born Free" by John Barry. It is a classical score written for a movie of the same title.
It is a reminder that never gets old...you were born free. Free from sin. Free from pain. Free from heartbreak. You are free.
A friend and I recently were talking about this same thing online. She gave birth to a stillborn son years ago, and her son's birthday is soon approaching. The pain is still there. We talked about a mother's ultimate sacrifice - the willingness to accept the pain and the heartache here on earth knowing that our child is being blessed in the presence of God. On our most faithful days, we are able to call it a blessing ourselves.
That little baby elephant is a reminder that you are free. But even more of a reminder of freedom is that Momma elephant. I often think of freedom as something that I will get one day...on the day that I enter heaven. But that isn't true. I may not be free from pain and suffering in this lifetime, but I am still free:
"For freedom Christ has set us free; stand firm therefore, and do no submit again to the yoke of slavery." Galatians 5:1
"Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." 2 Corinthians 3:17
"...our freedom that we have in Christ Jesus..." Galatians 2:4
"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." John 8:36
"For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death." Romans 8:2
One day, I will be born into the complete freedom that you are blessed to already know...freedom from evil, suffering, pain and heartache. But until then, I will do my best to remember and be thankful for the freedom that I was born into on the day I asked Christ into my heart...freedom from fear, sin and death.
I came across this quote tonight by Adam Lindsay Gordon, "Life is mostly froth and bubble. Two things stand like stone - kindness in another's trouble, courage in your own." I thought it was a perfect quote to end my day, because I witnessed both kindness and courage today.
The kindness came from a grieving widow whom I have never met in person. This sweet woman lost the love of her life just a few short months ago. We met on the intranet by happenstance and shared our stories. Although our circumstances are vastly different, we had an immediate connection. We can relate to each other's heartache and pain.
I arrived home today from work to a large package from her. I opened the package to find the most beautiful snow globe with your name engraved on the front. A mother elephant snuggles with her baby inside. When the globe is wound up, a sweet tune plays as momma and her baby dance in circles. The sweet card reads, "When I saw this, it made me think of Morris right away." The globe now adorns the top of your dresser in the nursery along with all my other Morris treasures.
The courage I witnessed was shown by a fellow mother to an angel who lost her firstborn son when he was only a few months old. Today would have been his 6th birthday. This mother has bravely shared her story, her strength, and her steadfastness in the hopes that it might help someone. And it has...it has helped me.
People say that the first year after the loss of a loved one is the hardest, but I'm most fearful about the years that come after this one. I'm overwhelmed by the lifetime of hurt and pain that losing you has subjected me to, and I wonder how it is possible to carry such a heavy burden for so long. When I hear the stories of women who are surviving the heartache and see the smiling faces of women who have found a way to keep moving, I'm encouraged. I am reminded that God will get me through this first year and all the years to come.
Daddy and I took Abby and Izzy for a short walk this evening. We stopped by Aunt Becca's house for a little while. As we sat on the back porch watching two sweet girls and four crazy dogs play, I was reminded that life is good and that we have much to be thankful for. It seems that all we hear about on the news is the evil, corruptness and dishonesty in this world. There is a lot of that to be sure, but I have witnessed firsthand over the last several months that there is plenty of kindness and courage too.
I've been traveling for work this week, and I just got home last night. Grief hit me out of the blue twice on my trip.
The first time, I was driving into a torrential downpour. The next thing I knew my tears were coming as fast and as hard as the rain. I think when the heavens are downcast and weeping, it's only natural to feel like crying too.
The second time grief took me by surprise was yesterday as I was leaving the airport. I came down the escalator headed to catch the parking shuttle; I was in a hurry to get on the road before the evening traffic got too heavy. But as I approached the exit, a family reunion caught my eye. There was a couple with a baby boy that was being reunited with his grandmother. The grandmother had happy tears in her eyes as she spoke sweetly to her grandson, "Look how big you've gotten! You are such a beautiful boy. Grandma loves you!" It hit me that I'd never get to hear Gramy say those words to you. The tears streamed down my face before I could catch them.
When I got home, two items I ordered that reminded me of you had arrived. They are both items with elephants on them. I've lately become obsessed with things with elephants - clothing, jewelry, little stuffed animals. I've shared with you about the little gray elephant that has become a symbol for you. It was the last gift we received before you were born, given to us on the day before we found out that you were gone. It came with a soft green blanket with gray trim. I instantly loved the set. A few weeks after you died, I took the blanket, elephant and a few other things to have your name embroidered on them. I gave the soft green blanket to Jackson (it has your name on one end and his name on the other), and I kept the elephant with your name on the ear. He usually sits on the rocking chair in your nursery, and when I'm feeling particularly down, I find comfort in sitting in your nursery and holding him tightly.
I told Gramy not long ago that I thought it was perfect that an elephant had become your symbol because "an elephant never forgets", and you will never be forgotten. She agreed that there was poetry in the little elephant's meaning.
I got to wondering where the saying "an elephant never forgets" comes from. I did a little research online, and it turns out that elephants really do have fantastic memories. I read an article about two elephants who became very excited when introduced to one another. Their handlers did some research, and it turns out that those two elephants had been together some 22 years earlier for just a few short months. There are other stories documenting how elephants can keep track of up to 30 of their family members/herd.
You never had the chance to see my face, and I've often wondered if you will recognize me when I get to heaven. I read in my research that elephants can recognize their family members without seeing their faces...they can identify their family members from just their scent and their voice. Now I don't think it is a coincidence that the little gray elephant was given to us or that it has become a symbol for you. I think it is God's way of reassuring me that you will be as happy to see me on the day we are reunited as I will be to see you. You'll recognize Grammy too, and it just dawns on me that I will get to hear her exclaim wonderful words of love and affection to you one day. I'm sure that all three of us are looking forward to that glorious day.
Love,
Mommy
"As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you." Isaiah 66:13
Our little baby birds have flown the nest. I came home from the lake last weekend to find the empty nest. I know Daddy is happy that he can use the front door again, but for me it was bittersweet to see those sweet baby birds go. It makes me smile though to think that they are getting to fulfill their life purpose now. I know they are soaring the sky and singing God's praises.
We had to toss your wreath along with the nest. After being home to 5 baby birds, it was pretty disgusting. It broke my heart to part with it. Gramy bought it for us just days after we came home from the hospital, and it has hung on our door ever since. I had planned to keep it up until your first birthday passed and then pull it out each year in February in your honor.
I find it hard to part with anything connected to you. Some things have sentimental value, and those things I'll hold on to forever. The soft gray blanket we wrapped you in. The little elephant with your name embroidered on its ear. The "Wherever You Are My Love Will Find You" book from Grammy that I read to you so often while I was pregnant. There are lots of things that I haven't been able to part with that don't don't carry any sentimental value with them. The small burial gown and heart-shaped pillow that we never used in the box sent home by the hospital. A book about death sent by the funeral home with your name embossed on the cover. The boxes that some of your things came in. The lid to a Trader Joe's Cookie Butter jar that has "For Baby Rankin" written on it (a gift from some friends to address a pregnancy craving).
I feel the need to hold on to everything of yours and anything related to you because it's all I have left of you. I won't have your favorite outfits, favorite toys, childhood artwork, or school projects to put in a memory box. These things are the only things I'll ever have. I said that to Daddy, and he reminded me, "You'll always have me." That made me feel a little better.
I've given our godson Jackson a few of your things. It doesn't hurt to part with the things that I'm giving to him because I know that they mean as much to his mommy as they do to me, and I know that she'll take good care of them. I've assembled a few of your toys and rockers, and we've brought them out for Jackson when he's visited. It makes me happy to see them used. I hope that one day God blesses us with a brother or sister for you that will get to use them too.
I found some artificial bluebonnet flowers online, and I'm going to see if they can be incorporated along with your monogram into a new wreath for the front door. I read that sometimes House Finches come back to nest in the same spot year after year, but my guess is that if Momma Finch comes back to our house next year she'll find a screen door has been installed. Maybe Daddy and I can build a nest box for the far end of the porch though. I'd love nothing more than to see Morris #2 hatch.
Love,
Mommy
The last picture that I took of our baby birds
"You make springs gush forth in the valleys;
they flow between the hills;
they give drink to every beast of the field;
the wild donkeys quench their thirst.
Beside them the birds of the heavens dwell; they sing among the branches.
From your lofty abode you water the mountains;
the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work."
I took your cousin Rafe to see an animated Pixar movie called Inside Out last week. The movie centers around a little girl named Riley and what goes on inside of her head. There are five characters inside Riley's head - Joy, Sadness, Disgust, Anger and Fear - and together they man the "control panel" of Riley's brain. As they take turns operating the panel, Riley experiences each emotion. The memories Riley creates are colored by whatever emotion was operating her brain's control panel at the time.
As the movie begins, we see that Riley's memories are mostly colored by Joy. Joy seems to like it that way, and she considers herself pretty successful in ensuring Riley's happiness. But not long into the movie, Riley goes through a major life change, and Sadness takes over the controls. Joy doesn't like the impact that Sadness has on their sweet girl. She is pretty upset when Sadness manages to create a memory. From that point on, Joy does everything she can to keep Sadness away from the control panel. For a while, Joy's distraction allows Disgust, Fear and Anger to take over.
Finally, Joy realizes that Sadness has an important role in Riley's life. She encourages Sadness to take over the controls, allowing Riley to express her true feelings. Then, Joy places her hand on Sadness' hand, and they operate the panel together. In that moment, they create a pivotal memory for Riley - a memory that is mingled with both joy and sadness.
My experiences and memories will always be tinged with some sadness. How could they not be when you are missing from them? CS Lewis once said about his wife's death, "Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything." If I had read that quote before you died, I doubt I would have understood it. I get it now. Your absence is so profound; it touches every aspect of my life.
Saturday marked 5 months since we said our goodbyes. It seemed appropriate that Saturday's sky was illuminated by fireworks. Fireworks are these spectacular bursts of color that light up the sky with a loud bang and then fade from sight as quickly as they appeared. If you look closely after a firework disappears though, you can still see its imprint in the sky. In that way, they remind me of you.
Today marks 14 years since your great granddaddy passed away. It's hard to believe it has been that long. I can remember so many things about him as clearly as if I had been with him yesterday. I remember the soft flannel shirts he wore and the way he smelled when I hugged him. I remember the many times he stood in the kitchen preparing breakfast for all of us grandkids. I remember the banter that went on between him and my grandmother. He had an easy going personality, which he probably needed to put up with his opinionated wife and mess of children and grandchildren. Oh, the stories he could tell...it didn't matter if you had heard the one he was telling a hundred times, you always stopped and listened to him tell it again.
Granddaddy didn't have an easy life. His mother died when he was young. Alcoholism ran in his family. From a very early age, he lived on his own and worked on a farm. He contracted TB as a teenager, which ultimately saved him from the war, and he lived in a sanitarium for a number of years recovering from the disease. It left him without a lung, and as long as I can remember, Granddaddy had to use an oxygen tank. Despite everything he had gone through in his life, he was one of those people who would truly give you the shirt off his back. He never met a stranger, and his and Grandma's home was always open to anyone who needed a place to stay or a meal to eat.
Granddaddy had a tough life, but you never heard him complain. In fact, one of my clearest memories of him is the from the day that he died. He had elected earlier in the day to have a surgery that would save his life. But the doctors later decided that the surgery was just too risky. When they told him, in his typical fashion, he said, "That's alright." I know that he was worried about leaving his family, but I don't think he was afraid to die. I was by his side when he passed away, and his last few breaths are forever etched into my memory. In those moments, I realized life's fragility.
I don't recall ever talking to Grandaddy about his faith, and he rarely went to church since his health made being away from home difficult. But he exuded the bible's command, "Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven. (Matthew 5:16)". In my lifetime, I've seen many battles and a great deal of hate propagated, often times in the name of the Father. We become so focused on being on the "right" side of the world's battles that we are distracted from fulfilling God's purpose for us. I've come to realize that Granddaddy was the type of Christian that I aspire to be...one who doesn't get caught up in the world's battles but instead focuses on shining a light for Christ.
Love,
Mommy
In Memory of Floyd Samuel Johnson, "Granddaddy"
March 21, 1925 - July 1, 2001
