The Rose Bud...

On your journey to heaven

Oh, littlest of angels,

I will forever give thanks

You came first to my arms,

Where you lay in warm sweetness

For the briefest of moments.

Not even the rosebud,

Nor the first crocus petal,

Could match the soft wonder of your small,

flowering face…

Though you lingered only briefly,

our torn hearts found comfort;

and your very presence

gave our sorrow grace.

Etched in our memories

To hold and to treasure

Are experiences we had not known;

These you gave in your innocence.

And oh, little darling,

We are richer by far,

To have held you a moment,

Than never to have held you at all.

Our Field of Loving Dreams

Butterflies dance across a field, in my mind.

You chase them and smile at me from between the wildflowers.

Your toothy toddler grin spreads wide, to grace me with joy.
Innocence shows in your eyes…
You laugh and I long to hold you,

to cuddle you close with the sigh of the wind.

The same wind lifts your baby hair,
Fragrant as the flowers you have played in,

soft as the kiss of your butterflies, and dark as the early night.

You smile into the sky and the rays of sun illuminate your profile.

You are fresh as a new day and

oh, how I love you!

We run together across our field,

chasing dragonflies and dreaming of fairies.

Holding hands, we dash across the rocks of a shallow stream,

and it is there in a clearing, that we dance.

Lifting you into my arms we whirl and turn,

Laughing and smiling, waltzing to the tune of the singing bluebirds.

We are one, you and I
Free to hold each other, free to love -

Until I place you gently on the ground, and step away.

For a moment, we hold hands.
For a moment, we gaze at each other.

For a moment, time stands still for both of us.

And then you are gone-
And I am here in my reality.

I can still feel your tiny fingers squeezing my hand.

I can still smell the wildflowers blending with your baby scent.

I can still hear your laughter rushing around me like our shallow stream.

I can still feel your little body cradled in my aching arms.

But I know too, that you will be here waiting for me

whenever I need you.

Here in our field of loving dreams -

Where reality fades away in the distance.

Where we are free to dance with the butterflies -
Where we can run, chasing dragonflies and dreaming of fairies;

and where I can hold you once again,
Just as I would have -
If you had lived.

"Welcome to Holland"

This article was passed on to me during our "Emily days" last year by a very dear friend, who had endured the deaths of a daughter 40 years ago and a special needs grandson, very recently. My friend died very unexpectedly a few months ago, leaving a significant void in my life - but the lessons he taught me in our time together, I will treasure in my heart always.

"Welcome to Holland"

By Emily Pearl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability or a parent who has endured a loss, to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to imagine how it would feel. For me,it's like this:

When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. You'll see The Coliseum, The Michelangelo David, The gondolas in Venice...You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting. After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go! Several hours later, the plane lands. The flight attendant comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

... "Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy - I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy!" But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland, and there you must stay.

The important thing is, they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place. So now, you must go out and buy new guide books. You must learn a whole new language... And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met. "Holland" is a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy... less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around and begin to notice that Holland has windmills, and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts!

Still, everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That is what I had planned." And the pain of that will never, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very, very significant loss. But - if you spend your life mourning the fact you didn't get to Italy, you will never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things... about Holland.

Emily's 5th Birthday...

Today is my Sweet Emily's 5th Birthday, and I can hardly imagine it has been five years since she came into our lives. Emily was such an amazing gift to our family, and I know she continues to bless my life in ways I can not begin to describe. As Emily's birthday has approached, I have found myself reflecting on the words of John F. Kennedy: "To those whom much is given, much is required." I have been given so much with the gift of Emily's presence in my life. I know my life and my world are both richer, because Emily has been a part of it; and so I hope I live up to the expectations set forth by Kennedy's words. I know how much I try...

This is a time of much reflection for me. As we celebrate our "Emily days", it has always been my belief that as Molly and Katie grow up, they should remember this week as being a happy week in our home. We honor Emily's memory by choosing to celebrate her life, instead of focusing on her death. There will undoubtedly be grieving for each of us, but I have been here in this "grieving place" long enough to say with confidence, I am no longer wrestling with my grief. It is no longer the unwelcome guest it once was in my life. With time, my grief has taught me if I am not careful, I can clutch so tightly to the past, it leaves my arms too full to embrace the present. I am thankful beyond explanation, for the gift of this knowledge.

Happy Birthday, my Sweet Emily....I love you with every breath of my being. I am forever blessed for having known the gift that was you. I miss you terribly, and the beautiful person you would have become; but my life is richer because you were part of this world, if only for a brief moment. My precious child, I promise you as long as I can, I will gaze at this wonderful world for both of us. As long as I can, I will laugh with the birds... I will sing with the flowers...and I will pray to the heavens, for both of us.

Celebration

This day will be a celebration

of the short time you were here.

You are remembered my child,

with great love, and also -

sometimes with tears.

But to feel only pain and sorrow

would not be fair to you.

Your life meant so much more to me-

more than I ever knew.

You were here so very briefly

I wonder if you know -

all the ways you've touched my life

since the day God called you home.

You're an angel now, my child

with our heavenly Father above -

And I see not only what I've lost,

but my capacity to love...

There will always be a void in my life -

and my soul will grieve forever.

But will I ever forget, or stop loving you?

No, not now - not ever.

So as this day has come upon me,

oh, how my heart still hurts -

But even as I mourn your death,

I celebrate your birth.

I measure every grief

I measure every grief I meet

With analytic eyes;

I wonder if it weighs like mine,

Or has an easier size.

I wonder if they bore it long,

Or did it just begin?

I could not tell the date of mine,

It feels so old a pain.

I wonder if it hurts to live,

And if they have to try,

And whether, could they choose between,

Would they not rather die.

I wonder if when years have piled--

Some thousands--on the cause

Of early hurt, if such a lapse

Could give them any pause;

Or would they go on aching still

Through centuries above,

Enlightened to a larger pain

By contrast with the love.

The grieved are many, I am told;

The reason deeper lies,

Death is but one and comes but once

And only nails the eyes.

There's grief of want, and grief of cold,

A sort they call 'despair,'

There's banishment from native eyes,

In sight of native air.

And though I may not guess the kind

Correctly yet to me

A piercing comfort it affords

In passing Calvary,

To note the fashions of the cross

Of those that stand alone

Still fascinated to presume

That some are like my own.

- Emily Dickinson

Carrot, Egg or Coffee Bean...

A young woman went to her mother and told her about her life, and how things were so difficult for her. She said she did not know how she was going to make it, and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling, and it seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose. Her mother took her into the kitchen, and she filled three pots with water. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs and the last she placed coffee beans. Then, she let them sit and boil without saying a word. A short while later she turned off the burners, fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She then pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her daughter she asked "Tell me, what do you see?" "Carrots, eggs, and coffee," The daughter replied. She brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots, and she did and noted that they were soft. She then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard-boiled egg. Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee, and her daughter grinned as she savored its rich flavor. The daughter asked what all of this meant...

Her mother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity - the boiling water; but each reacted differently. The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. But after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak. The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its soft interior. But after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became stiff and hardened. However, the coffee beans were unique. After they faced the boiling water they had actually changed the water. Through adversity, they had become something lovely. "Which are you?" she asked her daughter. When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?

Are you like the carrot that seems strong - but with pain and adversity, do you wilt and become soft, losing your strength? Are you like the egg that starts with a soft heart, but changes with the heat? Did you have a fluid spirit - but after death, a hardship or some other trial becomes hardened and stiff? Does your shell look the same, but on the inside are you tough with a stiff spirit and a hardened heart? Or am you like the coffee bean that actually changes the water… the very circumstance that brings the pain. If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst you get better and you change the situation around you. When the hour is the darkest and trials are at their greatest, are you able to elevate and rise to another level? ... How do you handle Adversity? Are you a Carrot, an Egg, or a Coffee Bean?

Molly's 9th Birthday...

Today is Molly's 9th Birthday, and it seems almost impossible to imagine she is this grown up. She loves horses, Disney, Hannah Montana and spending time with her friends. Over the past couple of weeks I have noticed her voice is changing, and she has lost that "child like" sound she used to carry. When we speak on the phone, it's almost like I'm talking to an adult. She is super-sensitive, and easily frustrated - with Katie especially. All around through, she is the greatest big kid I have ever known. Now officially a "tween", I am in awe that it will be only 7 more years until she is driving and we are exactly 1/2 way to adulthood. Happy Birthday Darling Molly....... I love you more than you can possibly imagine! Xoxoxox, Mommy