It gets better!

Well, today went different than we had planned for Angie's 3 Day Sleep Over...she is still very sick. So we just laid low again, tried to get a lot of fluids in her and just sat around and talked. We watched a movie and then just headed her to bed early. I pray that tonight she does better than last night. She is such a sweetheart and hardly complains at all. Still no matter what she still wants to stay for her Sleep Over. It does my heart good!
Loved this letter that Jason F. Wright, great reminder to us all ...that "It gets better".
Good Night dear friends!

Letter to a stranger in a cemetary

Dear Sir in the cemetery,

I saw you last Sunday.

I was driving home from a church in the northern part of Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley.

You were visiting a different kind of church. Wearing a dark suit, you stood at the foot of what appeared to be a fresh grave in a quiet, sunny cemetery. You looked younger than me, but your face and posture breathed experience.

You were alone.

I admit that my heart suggested I slam on the brakes and approach you. But my mind argued otherwise. Yes, I did pull into the cemetery’s side entrance, but I observed from a safe distance and did not leave my car.

As I sat, I reminisced about my own graveside visits to those I’ve loved and lost. And I lingered on three words heaven has whispered to me over and over again.

It gets better.

Obviously, I do not know the circumstances of your loss, your relationship or your grief. You might have been there to mourn a mother who lived to 82, a brother who perished at 52 or a wife who passed at 32.

Or, perhaps most tragically, a toddler taken at just 2.

As an adult, you probably already know that the grief for every kind of death is distinct, like crayons in a box that are all the same size and shape, but when streaked across the paper are unique.

But perhaps in the postscript of a funeral, you don’t yet know that those three words are as real as the pain you feel.

It gets better.

I’m almost certain people who’ve been there surround you on all sides. Maybe not living the exact same shades of grief, but they’ve likely lost someone they loved more than anyone or anything. When you wonder about tomorrow, you wonder if they believe in those three words, too.

If my assumptions are correct and your own loss is recent, the grief might feel like a bright billboard that no matter where you turn or how fast you drive, is always right in front of you. It seems inescapable. Even when you close your eyes, even when you dream, your personalized shade of sadness finds you.

That’s part of the plan. Though today it may sound out of tune, grief is good. It means they lived, it means you loved, it means they left behind a piece of their soul inside yours.

Many years ago I invited one of my brothers to visit my father’s grave with me. Unlike the grave you watered with tears last week, our dad’s has seen only rain and sprinklers for a long time. My brother smiled and reminded me what I already knew. “He’s not there.”

I realized that day that for my brother, it got better. And, eventually, it got better for me, too. We miss him, of course, but our grief has turned into brighter shades of memories: the cheesy T-shirts, the bad jokes and a thousand lessons learned.

During this Holy Week, the days that lead to the victory of Easter morning, I’m reminded again of the many visits to gravesites that tugged at my heartstrings. I remember how cemeteries can be peaceful, healing settings and I don’t regret a single second spent there.

I also remember the billboard I couldn’t escape. I recall the pain that waited for me each morning like uncomfortable shoes at the side of my bed.

Perhaps like you, I wondered if the sun would ever rise again.

In time, I learned the most foundational and fundamental truth of eternal life.

The sun will rise again, because the Son rose.

Friends come and go, families grow, relationships end and 101 hearts are broken and healed every second of every day. But this Easter truth is constant.

He is Risen.

Just like Mary who sat outside an empty tomb, the graves we visit are simply symbols. The only life there is our own. The ones we mourn, the one you miss, is not there.

No, they’re not yet risen. But they will be!

Because he was.

And even though I don’t know you, because he is risen, I know these other three words are also true.

It gets better.
You can read it HERE:

Day Four and Five

Yesterday was our trip to West Virginia, that was where I was born and raised. We first ended up at my best friend's house ( from High School ), it was great to see her and her family. She drove us around Barboursville and Huntington to our old High School... which isn't even there any more. We drove past the house that I grew up in ( on the farm ), it was still there. It didn't look like it was well loved or taken care of, but I can't hardly even explain in words what I felt when I drove past it. First of all the whole road has changed and now there is an interstate right beside our house, that was weird.  I felt like it really wasn't my home, I had good memories there but the bad ones seemed to over ride the others. Then after we left her house, we went to Shirley's old home place in Branchland. Wow, it was amazing to go and look at where she was born, it was 4 miles up the road called 10 mile. We saw on the drive there, a bunny, a dear and a big snack on road. Oh man, I don't miss all the snakes.
 After dinner, we realized we had forgotten to get a couple of things at the store. We hurried and went back out to find a store open, it was 8:15 pm and most of the places were closed. It took us 20 mins to find the nearest gas station that was open. 20 minutes ... really!  We couldn't get internet access or even cell phone coverage. Her Mother hadn't been feeling well so Shirley really wanted to stop and spend some time with her and her Aunt and Uncle that lived next door. It was fun, we really didn't do much but sit and talk. That night we slept under (BEAUTIFUL) handmade quilts... from some reason I seemed to sleep better! :)
This morning we got up and ate our own breakfast. Remember we are still on Weight Watchers, we were afraid that we would hurt her feelings, because she wanted to make eggs, sausage, bacon, biscuits, jelly and milk, I just couldn't eat that, so we said no thanks and hoped that she would understand. But don't think it wasn't hard to resist that home cooked breakfast smell, it brought back a lot of wonderful memories of my Grandmother's kitchen. The dishes she served us with, were certainly a flash from the past too!
 Right before we left, she said she wanted to give us each a quilt, Shirley's was a new one and mine was one she had had for many years. It was simply beautiful, I can't hardly wait to put it in my house. Then we left and stopped by her Aunt's house ( next door ) and she too gave each of us a quilt. They are ones that she made while she was trying to recoup from her Cancer and treatments this past year. She too was a Breast Cancer Survivor, and so this quilt will have a very special meaning to me. It amazes me the talent that these ladies have, what a treat and a gift.
 
 Before we left West Virginia we stopped in Huntington to the cemetery where my parents were buried. I haven't been back here since my Mom died 12 years ago. I was at her funeral but we didn't have the marker there yet. Since then, my Dad passed away and both were buried by my Grandmother Johnson. I thought I could remember where there grave sites were but it took us an hour and half to find it. I prayed so hard, I had brought flowers for their graves and didn't want to leave without finding them. Finally Shirley found them we were thrilled. I think my Mom just knew we were on Weight Watchers and just wanted us to get some Activity points earned by walking up and down those hills...looking for their graves! :)
 
Then we did one last trip down Memory Lane to the home I was born in and raised in the first 10 years of my life. It was in the city but I was shocked to see how run down the whole area was. We were going to stop and take photos but.. that didn't feel safe so we took photos out the windows. Ended up eating lunch in the car at Riter Park ( where Jeff and I spent many evenings together while we were dating ) it made me really miss him.
The next 4 hours we headed to Kentucky and it was a beautiful ride with all the horse farms around. My dear friends from Indiana drove to our motel and had dinner with us. You know that you are with a best friend when you start talking where you left off of 3 years ago! It was so fun catching up! Now we back in our motel and getting ready to head to bed. I am soooo grateful for the opportunity to have this chance to be doing this road trip. I really think this will be a Road Trip we will remember Forever! Good night dear friends!

" Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend. "  ~Albert Camus

"There comes a point in your life when you realize who really matters, who never did, and who always will."

Compassion, Charity and the Cemetery!

When I read this story, it made me cry… but also reminded me of the compassion and charity of others. What a difference that can make in someone’s life! Life is hard, but often those hard blows are often softened by the small acts of charity of others. It made me remember we all could do a little bit more! Good night dear friends!

 

A Small, Snow-Covered Tree

One day, shortly before Christmas, our third child and first son, Bay, was born. As I said good-bye that evening to my exhausted but joyful wife and left the hospital, the warmth and joy that accompanied the birth of my son overwhelmed the cold chill of that clear December night.

The following December we celebrated the first birthday of our dark-eyed, dark-haired son. The day after Christmas, during an evening of games at the home of my in-laws, our revelry was interrupted by an awful shriek from my mother-in-law: “He’s not breathing!” She had gone to check on Bay, who had been sleeping on her bed, and discovered his cold, lifeless body. We immediately rushed our son to the hospital, attempting CPR on the way. We were grief-stricken to learn that nothing could be done to save his life. He had died from sudden infant death syndrome.

Since then, Christmas has been filled with a much deeper meaning for our family. Each year on Christmas Eve when we take down our other children’s stockings to fill them, one solitary stocking is left on the fireplace mantle. Throughout the remainder of the holiday the stocking serves as a reminder of Bay.

Each year, around the time of Bay’s birthday, my wife and I drive to the cemetery where he is buried. At each visit we find that someone else has arrived before us and placed something on our son’s grave: one year it was delicate, small flowers; the next year, a stuffed bear; the next, a little Christmas tree decorated with miniature ornaments. We have no idea who is responsible; the gifts, which touch us deeply, are never accompanied by a note or card.

When I hinted to my mother-in-law that I knew her secret, she denied responsibility. The following year while she and my father-in-law were serving a Church mission abroad, we again found that someone had placed a gift on our son’s grave. Even after inquiring with other family members and friends, we were unable to solve the mystery.

Ten years after our son’s death, a series of snowstorms prevented us from traveling short distances. As a result, our annual visit to our son’s grave site was delayed until several days after Christmas. When we finally made it, we saw a small, decorated Christmas tree, mostly buried in the snow, standing bravely at the head of Bay’s small grave. The effort it must have taken for someone to get to the cemetery through the heavy snowfall overwhelmed us. Tears streamed down our faces as we realized that someone still shared our grief and loss.

After that, we were more resolved than ever to discover the identity of our benefactor and thank him or her for showing us such compassion. But as we reflected more, we realized that whoever was doing these acts of kindness did not want to be identified. We decided to allow our friend to remain anonymous. We replaced our need to thank our friend with a desire to simply live better.

It is now harder for us to speak ill of or criticize any of our friends or family members, because any one of them may be our anonymous friend.

Often while doing service, my wife and I pause to examine our hearts: are we doing good things to be seen by others or for the pure love of Christ and of our fellowmen?

For us, charity—humble and never seeking its own—is symbolized by a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, half-buried in snow, resting in a quiet cemetery.   ~By Darrell Smart    Ensign, Dec. 2008

“Act as if what you do makes a difference.  It does.”  ~William James

“Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could only do a little.”  ~Edmund Burke