Another day comes and goes on this journey towards eternity with yet another holiday passing since the days when you were last with us. Your momma wrote a few days back about how Easter has changed for our family over the past 7+ years starting with your Great-Aunt Alma’s passing. You’ve met her by now along with a host of other Saints that have gone on before. I’m not talking about Angels, though you’ve undoubtedly seen many of them, but people whom we’ve cherished that have “put on immortality” to use the words of the Apostle Paul (1 Cor 15:53).

I can’t even begin to imagine what that must be like. Christ Himself told us that He went ahead to prepare a place for us. A “room” of sorts in a house that only He can build. The Revelation provides us a glimpse of what life will be like, but I sort of like how C. S. Lewis pictured this in the last book in the Narnia series. When it’s finally my turn and He calls my name for the last time, then I’ll see first-hand what you already know. I’ll see a place where every day, every experience is better than anything that I could imagine. But even still, each experience is better than the previous. A chain of experiences with each one exponentially better than the previous one without end. It’s rather difficult for a finite mind such as mine to grasp something so beyond my comprehension, but one thing is certain, I’ll have plenty of Saints to share it with, including you.

I tried today to think about what food must taste like for you. A few months back I tried a new chocolate based rub on some steaks that was simply delightful but then again just a few days ago we tried a pineapple / teriyaki / garlic based marinade that stole my heart. I wonder if every bite that you take has each flavor that you enjoy as a part, or if you enjoy the same flavor for an entire meal. I know if your brothers had that option today it would be a mound of chicken-nuggets…probably from Chick-fil-a (how we love that place). Of course you eat for the joy of doing so, not because you need or require any sort of nourishment where you are. I suppose it also helps that you have the Creator of the universe as your Chef. I expect you delight in Him as much as He delights in you. There’s a great deal of comfort for me in knowing that.

I thought I would share with you some things that have been on my mind over the last few days. You see, Easter is a powerful time for me that has grown greater still in recent years. It started many years back when I decide to continue my education at CBC. It’s worth noting that when I say “I decided,” I don’t really mean that. Most often it means that I set aside my own ambitions and aspirations and actually listened to that still-small voice that guided me to a place where I would find the joy of serving others. This was not the path that I was on and I saw first-hand much of what this world has to offer and decided to take another route – the road that is open to all but strangely is the path less traveled.

For many Christians, it is the Christmas season that stirs their faith. Rightfully so. It’s a wonderful time of year to celebrate the birth of the God-child: when the “Word became flesh, and dwelt among us” (John 1:14). While I firmly love Christmas for what it’s supposed to be (not what the world tries to tell us that it should be), it’s Easter that inspires me because of who He is, what He did, and who He did it for.

Ps 51 has been on my mind these last few days. It’s the who He did it for that continues to rattle me. Put plainly, He did it for me. He did it for you. If He had to do it over again, He would. His perfect plan included the birth, death and resurrection of the Son, to the glory of the Father. Do I fully understand all that this means? Of course not. But that doesn’t mean the words of the Psalmist are not my own words when I allow my heart to be honest.

“Be gracious to me, O God, according to Your loving kindness; according to the greatness of Your compassion blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity and cleanse me from my sin. For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against You, You only, I have sinned and done what is evil in Your sight, so that You are justified when You speak and blameless when You judge.”

I love this Psalm. Do I really consider that all my sins, those that I do knowingly and intentionally and those that I do unknowingly are all ultimately a sin against a holy and just God? I look at another man whom I’ve deprived a blessing and think I’ve sinned against him but the Scriptures teach something different. I watched children playing the other day and saw one gesturing toward the other in a way that undoubtedly caused offense. I doubt the one “making fun” realized they were not sinning against the other, but that they were causing an abomination to the righteous One who bled and hung on that cross for their sins: for my sins.

“Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.”

Christ is my substitution. The actions were mine. The words were mine. The sin was mine. The punishment should have been mine. But that’s the beauty of His gift and that’s the freedom found in Easter. Recently I’ve read another great fallacy repeated. “A man is the sum of his experiences.” This sounds good and seems reasonable but it’s woefully wrong. A man (or woman) is defined by their relationships and more specifically, their single relationship with the Author of life. Christ is the well-spring. You either know Him personally and allow yourself to walk with Him, or you work against Him. It’s when you know Him as “the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6), are you able to know the freedom from the sum of your experiences. This, my sweet girl, is not something you’ll ever have to know. You were born to Him. You were born clean. It is I that need this freedom.

“Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and sustain me with a willing spirit”

It must seem strange to those that don’t know me how I can celebrate Easter, your first birthday, the fact that you’re with Jesus, and the joy found in life yet at the same time mourn for your absence. That’s the paradox in which we often times find ourselves. Walking with Jesus is hardly a promise of immunity from adversity, but it’s the promise that we’re neither alone, nor is this all in vain. Through the foreknowledge of God, the great script called life was spoken into existence by Christ (Col 1:16), the same God-child that was born in the manger and suffered a terrible death for humanity’s sake on the cross. He knew the potential of His creation as well as our choices, and intertwined them into a remarkable garment that plays out until He comes again. All the while, I have the opportunity to experience joy anew every time I put the needs of someone else ahead of my own. Am I always successful in this endeavor? Clearly not. Do I practice to get better at it? Daily.

This brings me back to Easter and what it means that the tomb was found empty. I’m a little humored that the tomb wasn’t entirely empty. It was orderly with the death linens folded neatly. Mankind tried and did their worst. God came to show us the way and we killed Him for it. I would like to think that if I had been alive when Jesus walked the earth that I would have been one of His disciples. Probably not part of the twelve, but perhaps part of the 500. However, the reality that I know in my heart is the same that the Psalmist knew. I doubt that I would have been one of His followers. I would have been one in the crowd screaming for His death. I would have been part of the mob, not helping my fellow man but clamoring for justice. A self-absorbed righteousness that clouds the mind and often times prevents me from seeing the opportunity in adversity.

Hence the need for the resurrection. When I think about it, God could just wave His mighty hand across the sky daily and demonstrate His presence to an unbelieving world. Surely this would prove to everyone that He’s more than a “sky-fairy” or a fanciful dream that some men have created. But what kind of a god would it be to create the freedom of choices, then uses coercion to remove them? Ours is a God that elected to become a man, to experience the sufferings of men, to die a painful and gruesome death and to demonstrate His authority over death by means of the Resurrection on the third day. There’s little debate about the historical account of a man from Galilee named Jesus of Nazareth. There is however, great debate about the historical account of His resurrection. Of course, this was as true in the first century as it is today, nearly 2000 years later.

It wasn’t the fact that Jesus was born that makes His life so consequential. It was the fact that after just three short years of healing the sick, feeding the poor, touching the untouchable and teaching mankind of a better way to live that He was crucified and shortly thereafter, He rose again that makes Him so important to me. He gives me hope that no matter how bad my sin is, no matter how large the divide between what I know and what I do, He stands with an outstretched arm lifting me and carrying me through my failures. It’s little wonder to me that the Apostle Paul felt the resurrection as so essential to salvation, “if you confess with your mouth Jesus as Lord, and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.” (Rom 10:9)

I picture you in His arms and by now, after a year’s time, you’re exploring so much of the world around you. I know you’ll find the holes in His hands and perhaps the hole in His feet and you may wonder why He did it. It’s because He knew your daddy, who loves you uncontrollably at times. It’s because He knows your mommy, who still weeps for you and misses you. It’s because He knows your brothers, who talk about you and cannot wait to celebrate your birthday in a few days. I know I’ll see you again soon. His resurrection is the proof of that.

That’s why Easter is so important to me. Love you baby girl.

~Daddy

On March 23, 2008, my Grandma Nina passed away. It was Easter Sunday. Rodger got the phone call early that morning as I was getting ready for church. My parents had left town just a day or two before, as they had gotten the call that things were not going well. Even though my grandma had been sick and in the hospital for a while at this point, I was still caught off guard by her death at age 92. You never think your grandparents are going to die.

Rodger and I debated what to do. There was no reason to leave town until funeral services had been planned so we decided to go ahead with our plans for the day since it was Easter … our oldest son’s first Easter at that. So we got ready and went to church. When we got home, we helped our baby boy discover the goodies in his Easter basket. Then we spent the afternoon traveling between my other grandparent’s house and my in-laws, celebrating the day.

It was certainly a different day then we had planned. There was no traditional Easter brunch with my family and no traditional bunny cake for dessert. Easter was put on hold for many in my family and the rest of us continued with whatever plans we were able to, although they were marred by the sadness of what had happened. I couldn’t get my grandma out of my mind, or my dad and the sorrow that he must have been feeling at losing his mom. At the same time, we were joyful to celebrate our son’s first Easter and spend time with other family members who wanted to share in his special day. At the end of the day, I felt like Easter Day had been changed forever with the sadness of my grandmother’s death. I never bothered to ask my dad if he felt the same way.

The next year, Easter was almost a month later, falling in the middle of April. The sting of Easter Day didn’t seem to stick with me like I thought it would. The fact that the anniversary of my grandmother’s death happened almost four weeks prior probably had something to do with it. Another factor was that Grandma Nina died on her daughter’s birthday. My Aunt Alma passed away two years before my grandma. While it was hard to celebrate Easter on the day of my grandma’s death, I soon learned that it wasn’t Easter Day that would be hard; it would be the date of March 23 … the day of my Aunt’s birthday and Grandma’s death.

Kyleigh was born into Jesus’ arms on Maundy Thursday of 2012. Maundy Thursday is the day before Jesus’ crucifixion, the day of the Last Supper. It was April 5^th. We went into the hospital on Thursday expecting to be home for Easter Sunday three days later. Instead, we spent the next four days in the hospital, not going home until late the next Monday night. I spent Easter Sunday in a hospital bed crying my eyes out. Rodger got up so early in the morning to drive home for Sunrise Service that the nurses were worried about him driving while being so tired. He assured them that he would be okay, as he had promised our son that he would take him to the early morning Easter service. My sister arrived at the hospital just as I awoke and sat with me until Rodger returned a few hours later. We had a few visitors throughout the day and while I’m sure the boys came to visit me, my memory does not let me remember the details of that particular visit from them.

The visit I do remember is that of my nurse and doctor. It was day three of having the same day nurse and my doctor had taken over my complete care very early on in my hospital stay. By this point, we were all spending a lot of time together. But on this day, Easter, my nurse and doctor sat at my bedside with Rodger and I for over an hour. We didn’t talk about how I was doing physically. They didn’t do any examinations or administer any medication. The four of us sat and talked about Kyleigh, Jesus and Easter. Rodger and I shared our faith and talked about whom we are as a couple and a family. We learned about our new “family” that was sitting with us. We have all agreed since that day that there is no getting rid of each other … we are forever connected by Kyleigh. We sat for over an hour talking, crying and hugging. The next morning, Pastor Megan served Rodger and I communion and shared some special words with us about what Easter meant for us that year.

That was the first Easter that I did not go to church. It was the first Easter where I didn’t color Easter eggs or eat Easter brunch. It was the hardest Easter I have ever experienced and the most meaningful at the same time. I learned a lot about myself, my faith and God. I learned a lot about love and I experienced the love of God through the words and actions of others on Easter last year … my husband who took our four year old boy to Sunrise Service … my sister who sat with me and consoled me … a nurse and doctor who opened their hearts to me … family and friends who came to visit … hugs and kisses from my little boys … powerful words about Easter from a dear friend.

This year, Easter weekend falls just a week before Kyleigh’s first birthday. I am writing this on Maundy Thursday, the day last year that I was in labor. We have decided to keep Easter low key this year. We are going to Sunrise Service as a family and beyond that, we don’t really know what we are doing. A decision will be made when it has to be made. The emotions and memories from last year have started to flood our minds and we just don’t know what we will be able to handle. Plus, we are anticipating the next week to be a hard one as we prepare for Kyleigh’s birthday. While we are preparing things physically, I’m not sure we can prepare emotionally.

One question that keeps entering my mind … Will Easter always be a struggle? Is it only because it falls so closely to Kyleigh’s birthday this year? Or will Easter weekend bring back a flood of emotions every year because of Kyleigh’s death happening during such a Holy time?

At some point, Kyleigh’s birthday falls on Easter itself … 2015, I already looked it up. April 5, 2015, her 3^rd birthday. My guess is that Easter will always have a little bit of a sting to it, but it also holds a much bigger meaning than ever before. The Resurrection of Jesus is not about fancy dresses and expensive lunches. It’s not about baskets full of candy or a fictional bunny hiding eggs. The Resurrection of Jesus is about the assurance that someday I will see Kyleigh again. Someday, I will hold my baby girl on Easter Sunday and experience the joy that she is experiencing right now at this very moment.

Franklin D. Roosevelt founded the March of Dimes 75 years ago to fight polio. Once that mission was complete, the March of Dimes changed their focus to premature birth and birth defects. Today, their mission is to improve the health of babies by preventing birth defects, infant mortality and premature birth. March of Dimes has aided in developing many of the tests, procedures and medications that help premature babies. Education is provided to women through prenatal care and beyond. Support is given to NICU families. Research and advocacy are two main components of the March of Dimes that help families every day.

Our story does not fit in very well with the other stories from March of Dimes. Kyleigh was not born premature. She did not spend any amount of time in the NICU. We did not have contact with anyone from March of Dimes when she died. While their website provides information regarding stillbirth, their main focus is prematurity and the road those babies travel to get from the NICU to home. So when we heard about the March for Babies, we were a little skeptical to participate. Was this the right thing for our family? Would we be honoring Kyleigh by participating? What would be our purpose for walking? Ultimately, we decided that we would walk. We would walk in Kyleigh’s memory. We would walk so that other families do not have to travel down the dark road that we are traveling. If just one baby is born healthy because of the money raised for March of Dimes, then it will be worth walking. If people who love our daughter join us to share in her memory, then it will be worth walking.

We have created a team, Kyleigh’s Gift, to walk in the March for Babies and help raise money that supports programs in the community that help moms have healthy, full-term pregnancies. Funds are also used in research to find answers to the problems that threaten our babies. So far, our team consists of 11 family members and friends. We hope that more will join us. Kyleigh’s Gift has a team goal of $1,000. While raising money is not our number one focus, we do want to help where we can.

Will you help us reach our goal? Will you give up eating out just once this week to help babies born too soon? Will you forgo your morning Starbuck’s and donate that money to Kyleigh’s Gift March for Babies team?

Go to http://www.marchforbabies.org/s_team_page.asp?SeId=2014776 to learn more and donate today!

I saw this picture today and it immediately made me think of Kyleigh. It fits perfectly with the story below.

Rewind to this past Christmas Day. We were at my parents’ house just getting ready to sit down for dinner. My oldest son, who is five, was already seated at the table and as I sat down next to him, he says, “Mommy, heaven is in my heart because Kyleigh is in heaven and I love her. She lives in my heart and is always with me.” I just about dropped my plate as I held back the tears. He asks a lot of questions about heaven and what it’s like, but he had never spoken these words before. We didn’t have much time to talk about it in that exact moment, regrettably. Since Christmas, my son has spoken these words to me more often and we have had the opportunity to talk about it a little bit more.

Hearing these words come from my son’s mouth brings me such a sense of peace. He knows that Kyleigh is safe with Jesus in heaven. His words about Kyleigh and her death can be so profound at times and I often wonder where he gets it from. Then I have to remember the simplicity of a child’s faith. It sounds profound to us, as adults, but really it is quite simple.

Another reason why I believe he speaks in the terms that he does about death and heaven is because we have many books on both subjects. In the days following Kyleigh’s death, I had a few people call and ask if we had gotten any books for the boys to help explain what had happened. For a family who frequents the library and buys books often, this was something that we had not thought of at all. Fortunately, we not only had a few friends go out and purchase books for us, but we also received some as gifts from those who did not know we were searching for books.

We have a handful of books specifically about death, but these are a few of my favorites that we have when talking specifically about heaven:

Someday Heaven by Larry Libby

This book is actually on loan to us and it’s probably about time that I return it! Someday Heaven is set up in a Q&A format. Questions such as, Where Is Heaven?, Who Lives in Heaven?, How Long Will I Be in Heaven?, Will I Be an Angel When I Get to Heaven? and Will My Pets Go to Heaven? are answered very matter-of-factly and are supported with scripture. There is a wide range of questions that are typical of what a child would ask, which means that some of them are silly and light-hearted.

Heaven is for Real for Kids by Colton Burpo

Heaven is for Real for Kids is the children’s version of Heaven is For Real, which I am sure most of you have heard of. I have read the adult version, so when we received the children’s version as a gift, I was curious. I do not want to give away too many details for those who have not read the book, but the tag line on the cover states: A little boy’s astounding story of his trip to heaven and back. That being said, there is a lot in this book that I do not read to my children. I do not want my children thinking that Kyleigh is going to come back from heaven. Sorry boys, that’s not how it works. I do like this book because of the wonderful illustrations and the plethora of scripture references. The book really does give a clearer understanding of heaven through the Scriptures. I just have a hard time reading about a boy who went to heaven and came back.

Heaven: God’s Promise for Me written by Anne Graham Lotz

The book, Heaven: God’s Promise for Me, was given to my boys when my grandmother passed away a few months after Kyleigh. It is written by Anne Graham Lotz, the daughter of Billy Graham, whom my grandma really admired. Each illustration in the book contains a hidden angel. My grandma had a love for angels, so that makes this book a little more special. The book not only focuses on what heaven is like, but more importantly, how to get there. It is a rhyming book with wonderful images, such as swimming with sharks and flying with eagles. I appreciate the illustrations in this book because they show people of all ages in heaven, not just elderly like you see in many books. While this book does not provide scripture references throughout the book, there is a list at the back. Heaven: God’s Promise for Me is written in a more kid-friendly story than the previous two books that I have highlighted.

God Gave Us Heaven by Lisa Tawn Bergren

This one is my favorite. I enjoy all of the books in the God Gave Us series, so it was no surprise when I fell in love with this one, too. God Gave Us Heaven is a wonderful story about Little Cub and his curiosity of heaven. He asks his Papa lots of questions about heaven and God that are answered by Papa as they spend the day together fishing. My favorite part of the book is when Little Cub asks, “Will we be angels?” Papa says, “No. Only angels are angels. God made us polar bears for a reason.” “Shoot. I wanted to fly,” says Little Cub. This is a wonderful story for everyone about love, faith and family. If you have not read any of the books from this series, go check one out at the library.

Not long after my grandma was diagnosed with bone cancer, she became very ill. I had the thought that I should buy a book about death and heaven, you know, to prepare my boys for the inevitable. Then, Grandma started getting better and I dismissed my thoughts. I didn’t want to scare my boys by talking about death. Little did I know that they would soon be immersed in more death than most children ever experience. If you have children, find a book about death and/or heaven that works for your beliefs and your family. We all have to face it at some time or another. I do not regret not reading to my children about death or heaven before their sister and two great-grandmothers died. I just now know that I could have done it in a way that would not have been scary, like I thought.

To be continued … I will highlight some of our children’s books about death soon.

This week was terrible. Valentine’s Day was perhaps as hard as Christmas yet without the anxiety of the run-up. There was stuff everywhere. Triggers as I like to refer to them. Little, inconsequential atomic bombs that explode in my heart when I least expect. There are events that you simply cannot prepare yourself to experience. It’s a lot like a sucker-punch only the pain is much deeper than it’s impossible to express with words.

It started a few weeks back when I tried to get a jump on the holiday after someone mentioned its impending approach.  While it was on my mind, I took the time to buy cards for Leann, one from the boys and one from myself. That job was awful. I saw “daughter” stuff everywhere when it occurred to me, the uniqueness of the father-daughter relationship and the newness of these emotions to me for this Valentine’s Day. There, standing in the grocery store trying to spend less than $10 for two cards, one of those bombs went off. So I grabbed the first cards I saw that I figured would pass the test and made a b-line for the door. Little did I know this would be the tip of the iceberg for the week ahead…

A few days later I found myself never been more challenged on the job than I was at that moment. There was pressure from all sides and I’m still getting used to a relatively recent change in my role. Most call it a promotion, I call it a test. It’s an opportunity for me to demonstrate what my faith teaches, that for me, it’s imperative that I put the needs of others before my own. I want others to know the God that I know, and I realize that every action I take, every word that I say, either points others toward Him, or turns people away. While perfection on this line is unattainable, excellence is certainly within reach. But to demonstrate excellence requires practice and the best way I’ve found to do that is to make it a daily habit.

So when the day finally arrives, it starts as others do these days with that helpful first cup of coffee. I know it’s going to be a rough day when an 8 a.m. call finds its way onto my calendar. These are not the calls you look forward to but they do have the potential for a good dose of character development.  With this call on my mind, the gravity of the day had yet to weigh upon me as I trudged my way to my basement for the call. It was there that this weight, the weight of grief, fell upon me like an anvil once again and all I wanted to do was hang up the phone and go back to bed. But that’s not an option for me. It’s not a choice that our family is allowing ourselves to make. We must press on, looking forward to tomorrow with the hope of our imminent reunion. I like this verse here, “For whatever was written in earlier times was written for our instruction, so that through perseverance and the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.” (Rom 15:4)  It’s always helpful to remember that everything has a purpose; everything has a reason, from the pages of an Ancient Book to the seemingly mundane morning commute to the loss of something or someone most dear.

On the call I was on the receiving end of the “Help me to help you” speech with a splash of “I’m disappointed in you.”  At the time I remember thinking about how many hours I’ve put in over these past few months as it feels like I’ve hardly had any time off since the Christmas break. I’ve been working ridiculous hours, and the boss tells me that it’s time to “work smarter, not harder.” I wasn’t thinking positive thoughts, but in fairness, I wasn’t entirely focused on work either. I remained mostly silent for the first 20 minutes, then let lose my torrent and when it was over, I surprised myself that I only used one expletive. Not exactly pointing people to a deeper knowledge of God, but hopefully not doing too much damage either. I didn’t care about the project. I didn’t care about work. It was just something that I’ve been doing to pass the time. Perhaps as a means to distract myself so that I don’t dwell on the things that cannot be.

Later that morning we found our way to the cemetery and placed a balloon and small teddy bear at Kyleigh’s grave. There were the flowers that I placed the week before, still hanging in there bringing a splash of yellow to the otherwise brown and monotone outdoors that naturally occurs this time of year in the mid-west. It’s depressing. Yet even at its worse, it’s a reminder that spring will soon be upon us. Shoots of green are starting to appear, and along with that, is the reminder that renewed life is just around the corner. It was somewhere around this time that this new Valentine feeling struck me. Boom!

I’ve said before that I try not to dwell on the things that I’m missing. Where Kyleigh is, pain is not. While I know that I would have ultimately failed her and caused her pain as an earthly father, He will always provide for her as her heavenly Father. He made her anyway; I’m just the vessel He chose by which to create her. But it’s more than just a platonic relationship. He bound our hearts just as He did with mine and Leann’s or with mine and my boys’. I care more deeply for them than for any of the other people whom are all created in His image. That’s the way it works, and it was by His perfect design that it should be that way. On this day, I couldn’t help but feel that I’m missing it. I miss what it means to have my daughter here with me. To hug and to kiss my Valentine. I miss her so deeply, and every time a child needs a hug, particularly those little girls in the 3 – 5 yr range whom you inevitably encounter as a children’s Sunday school teacher, I’m pierced to the heart with the pain that I’ll not see her grow or watch her learn. I think she’ll forever be my infant daughter, as if stuck in the picture frames that surround me.

No more bombs went off the rest of the day and we enjoyed family time together that night. We enjoyed laughter, hugs and bacon pasta – a brilliant concoction from Leann’s kitchen. The next day came and went but one of the decisions coming from the call on Thursday morning was that I needed to take two days off. I needed a little time to push the reset button and to allow my mind to get a clear handle on what needed to be done. It’s occurred to me that I was wrong on Thursday morning. I was wrong to think the project doesn’t matter or that work doesn’t matter. It all matters. Everything that happens to us, through us, and for us, matters profoundly. We don’t understand it and often times we certainly don’t like it, but that doesn’t make it any less important. The passion that we put into life is proportional to the joy that we get out of it.

I’ve learned that on the very same day that I was feeling her loss so profoundly, another activity was progressing. Some months back a few friends of our family asked to orchestrate having a marker placed for Kyleigh at the Children’s Memorial Garden at a park in the town where we live. Their gift was a precious offer as this was something Leann and I had discussed some months back but hadn’t yet acted upon. I’m grateful we didn’t. They asked for our help in deciding on the wording for the marker and we felt it best to use “Always Remembered, Forever Loved.”  Kyleigh’s influence is bigger than us. We can see her impression on the world around us. I’m grateful for that and I pray it’s something that continues to blossom. It gives hope to a grieving family and it brings fullness to a void that will someday be repaired.

~Rodg

1. We love your dark curly hair.
2. We love that your pictures adorn our home, Daddy’s office and friends refrigerators.
3. We love the presence you have in your brothers’ lives. They love you so much.
4. We love the impact that you have made on our lives. You have taught us how to love more completely and recognize the abundance of opportunities that we have to serve others.
5. We love that love is all you have ever known. There is no pain, no sorrow, no hatred where you are, only love.

Happy Valentine’s Day Kyleigh! We love you!

Love,

Mommy & Daddy

The 5th of the month is always a significant date for me. Today, it marks nine months of Kyleigh being in heaven. It is a milestone for others, as well. Six months for one family and 18 months for another. It continues to be a day that stands out to me and I imagine that it will for some time.

Nine months is a big one for me. Nine months is the amount of time that Kyleigh was alive inside of me. It is the last month where she was alive longer than she has been dead. And even with that, she was still in the womb. We felt her movements and saw her grainy image on a T.V. screen every once in a while, but we didn’t get to see her smile or hear her giggles. While I cherish every moment that I had with her inside of me, I certainly do not remember every day of those nine months. I was busy with two little boys and most days were just normal, regular days. I know that I have pictures of me when I was pregnant with Kyleigh, but I did not do the traditional monthly photos like I had done when pregnant with my oldest son. During my pregnancy, I always joked with Rodger that this baby was going to be lucky to have anything in their baby book. I just didn’t keep track of things like I had before. Life got in the way and I guess you could say I took it all for granted.

Next month, she will be dead longer than she was alive. Most people probably don’t think about this as a milestone, but most people live much, much longer lives. One of my grandmas lived to be 92. She passed away in 2008. It will be the year 2100 before she has been dead the same amount of time that she was alive. I won’t even be alive then. Nine months also means it’s getting very close to one year. I have said this before, but time stands still at the same time that it flies by. This has been the longest shortest nine months of my life. I can’t believe that three months from today will mark one year.

Over this past month, our family has been grieving the loss of Rodger’s grandmother and preparing for Christmas all at the same time. Grandma Coatney passed away just after Thanksgiving and we spent the following weekend celebrating her life and spending some family time out of town. The boys had their preschool Christmas program and a train ride with Santa the following weekend. We enjoyed a weekend of rest the next weekend and then before we knew it, Christmas was upon us.

We seemed to do pretty well through all of the holiday preparations. We decided early on that our focus this year was solely on our boys. We would do what we needed to do for them and not worry about anything else. So, we put up a tree, decorated the house, made cookies and wrapped presents. We shopped online, declined party invitations and spent as much time together as a family as possible. On days when we were struggling, we called those who understood and spent time with them. For the most part, we simply did our own thing and didn’t have much contact with people outside of family. This was our way of coping and our own way of avoiding as many triggers as possible.

Then, the weekend before Christmas came and it all fell apart. Everything seemed to catch up to us and we were just a mess. We left church early on Sunday and decided not to even go on Christmas Eve. I don’t remember ever missing Christmas Eve service before. We took the boys to the zoo on Christmas Eve and spent time with my parents that evening. Christmas morning was a struggle, but I managed to do okay as we celebrated with family throughout the remainder of the day. Or so I thought, until I completely lost it over my constipated two year old. My family knew what the real reason was behind my uncontrollable sobbing and they did the only thing that could be done, they held me. They wrapped me in their arms and held me until I calmed down.

Seeing my boys excited on Christmas morning as they opened their presents brought joy to my day. Seeing Kyleigh’s stocking full of socks for Blair’s Foster Socks brought me joy, even amongst the sorrow. Hearing my oldest son sing “Happy Birthday Jesus” for our Christmas dinner prayer brought joy to everyone present. It was a hard day, but joy was still there.

I feel like I am still recovering from Christmas. It was a huge blow to my healing process and we all felt emotionally depleted when it was over. The cold, winter days aren’t helping. I went to the grocery store a few days after Christmas and they already had the shelves stocked for Valentine’s Day. It was depressing to look at. There is no break. Our society jumps from one thing to the next, afraid that they are going to miss out on something. Seeing all of the red and pink hearts left me feeling defeated. I was ready for a break from the holidays. I was ready to use January as a time to get focused for the New Year and what’s to come in the next few months. As I was talking to someone just a few days ago about the rush for stores to get the next holiday up and ready, she said, “they don’t let you breathe.” That’s exactly how it feels. I need some time to breathe. I need to walk into the grocery store and not have the next holiday thrown in my face. I need the radio stations to stop playing holiday music. I need people to stop asking me how my Christmas was when they expect a happy answer. I just need a break from it all.

Happy 9 months in heaven, Kyleigh. I know that you had the best Christmas out of all of us. We love you!

One of the ways in which we continue to honor Kyleigh is through her gift of life. Last we checked, one of her heart valves had been sent to a hospital on the West Coast. It is about time to follow up again, but we are hopeful that since a valve was sent someplace that means it was able to be used. Read Giving In Life and In Death and Picnics in Heaven for more of Kyleigh’s story regarding her gift of life.

I have always loved parades. I can remember watching the Thanksgiving Day parade on T.V. as a child and always wanting to attend one of these years. I enjoy other parades as well, both on T.V. and in person; the local American Royal Parade, the Rose Bowl Parade, homecoming parades, etc. In high school and college, I was in the marching band so I got to participate in many, many parades. Some were a lot of fun; others, not so much. Being a spectator at the American Royal Parade is fun. Being told to keep step and march through horse poop at the American Royal Parade is not fun. I don’t know what it is that draws me to them, but if I have the opportunity to watch a parade on T.V. or attend in person, I’m there.

A few months ago, I was made aware of the Donate Life Rose Parade Float . I got excited before I even knew what it was. After reading about it, I discovered that you can donate a rose to be placed on the float in memory of someone who has given the gift of life, in honor of someone who has received the gift of life or in honor of someone who is waiting for the gift of life. How perfect. I became so excited to learn that for $30, we could donate a rose in Kyleigh’s name. A rose that would be lovingly placed on the float. A float that will be in a nationally televised parade on New Year’s Day. All of the dedications from the roses can be read here: Donate Life Dedication Garden

At the same time that I learned of the opportunity to donate a rose, I also learned that one of the float riders was someone that we have become connected with since Kyleigh’s passing. Michele Shanahan DeMoss will be riding the float this year to honor her daughter, Blair. I have been able to follow Michele’s journey to Pasadena, CA, where she has been over the past few days working on the float. What an amazing experience it would be, although bittersweet, for sure. Someday, I hope to be able to travel to Pasadena and volunteer on the Donate Life float.

Just a few weeks after we placed Kyleigh’s rose dedication, we received a letter from the hospital where Kyleigh was born. The hospital, along with Midwest Transplant Network, was going to have a service to honor all of those who had given the gift of life during the past year. Family and friends were invited to attend the service and place rose ornaments on a Christmas tree that would be on display throughout the holiday season in the hospital lobby. The hospital also let each family know that a rose would be placed on the Donate Life Rose Parade Float in memory of our loved one. We were honored that out of everyone at the service, twelve people were there in memory of Kyleigh. Everyone had the opportunity to hang a rose on the tree; we hung Kyleigh’s rose and those who attended with us hung roses for others who gave the gift of life whose family members could not attend. What a blessing it was to be surrounded by loving family, my doctor and one of my nurses during such a special occasion in our journey of grief.

Kyleigh will have three roses on the Donate Life float tomorrow. I will be watching the parade and waiting to catch a glimpse of not only Kyleigh’s roses, but all of the roses that honor somebody who gave, received or is waiting for the gift of life.

Sometimes I read a headline or the title of an article/blog that simmers with me for a few days that I just can’t shake. Often times, days will pass and that headline will fester in the back of my mind as I’m simply stuck on the words. That nagging curiosity just won’t go away. At some point my curiosity will overcome my better sense of self-control and I’ll venture back out to where I found the headline and read the article. Time such as this, the article will so enraged me that I’ve little choice but to write a rebuttal.

Let me start with a public confession that will set the stage. I get paid every other week and with every paycheck, bills are paid, food is purchased, some money is wasted (heaven knows where it all ends up) and once a month, charitable donations are sent. We sponsor three boys through World Vision, and at present, this constitutes the bulk of our giving to the work of the Church. We used to give regularly to our church, but ever since the move to Lee’s Summit, this is not a practice that we’ve restarted. Yet I pray that it’s something we’ll be correcting soon.

But make no mistake, I’m keenly aware that with each passing paycheck, every year that I’m not giving what’s been placed on my heart to give, I’m literally ROBBING God. Strong word.  Really?  Am I really robbing the Source from which all things come?  It’s right there, plain as day, in the last book of the Old Testament. Malachi 3:8, “Will a man rob God? Yet you are robbing Me! But you say, ‘How have we robbed You?’ In tithes and offerings.” Pretty simple really, if you’re not at least tithing, you’re robbing God. 

Some people try some fancy word trickery to get out of the most basic of our financial responsibilities while still others argue as to the applicability of the text for today’s generation. But if you let the words simply be what they are, black and white letters on the page, there it is. I’m a thief that is actively robbing God. I don’t like it and I hope someday to change it, but as I write these words and listen to my boys play, I’m robbing God. There are no “shades of grey.” There’s only Truth. Thankfully the story doesn’t end there even if my name is called before I have a chance to resolve this sin. “But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” (Rom 5:8) I’m a sinner saved by His Grace no matter what I’ve done. That’s the beauty of the Gospel as recorded for us in the Scriptures.

That’s all well and good, but what about commands or verses in the Bible that are seemingly inconsistent with life today?  While it is true that there are many commands in the Bible that were given for a specific time period (some call this a dispensation), which were applicable for only that time period, this doesn’t mean that all are exonerated simply because we’re 2000+ years removed from the time in which the Text was given. Take Onesimus for example. In the tiny little New Testament book of Philemon, Paul writes to ask Philemon (and the church in his house) to receive a run-away slave back into his home. The text does not refute the institution of slavery; this is something that men and women both inside and outside the Church pushed for almost 1700 years later. Neither does the text explicitly support the concept of slavery. It’s a book about redemption and forgiveness that was written within the context of life in the first century and it is completely appropriate of us to apply these principles to our lives today.

So we can see from this that there are certain verses in the Scriptures that transcend time (such as our responsibility to tithe) and certain commands that were applicable for the time or context in which they were written and were preserved for our benefit today. The issue this creates for us then is the ability to discern which is applicable, and which are no longer applicable. Common sense is a tool gifted to us by God for this very purpose, but this is not the only tool. Prayers, searching the Scriptures, studying the classics provided by our church fathers or simply asking spiritual mentors are all means by which we can learn how to better apply the sacred teachings to our lives.  As the Lord declares, “For I, the Lord, do not change.” (Malachi 3:6) “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Heb 13:8) 

All of this sets the stage for the reason for this post. I’ve written in previous posts about the difference between God’s permitted will, and His perfect will. Kyleigh is in heaven right now due to God’s permitted will, not a part of the original plan when He conceived of the universe, but a specific event that entered the plan around the same time it was foreordained that the Son of God would die a terrible death on the cross of Calvary.  This isn’t just the wishful thinking of a grieving father nine months after his daughter’s death, but more importantly; this is what is taught in the Scriptures.

Take Psalm 139:16 for starters. “Your eyes have seen my unformed substance; and in Your book were all written the days that were ordained for me, when as yet there was not one of them.” Seems pretty clear to me, but the evidence doesn’t stop there. Ephesians 2:10, “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them.” The same message that was stated so clearly for the earliest readers of the Psalms is reinforced centuries later by the Apostle Paul for the newly formed church. This seems to be one of those themes that are meant to transcend time; its relevance was essential thousands of years ago yet it continues to bring comfort and purpose to the Church today. What bothers me about this is how easily the message is so quickly distorted in times of distress.

On November 26^th, I was at my parents’ house where my grandmother fell asleep for the last time and she was released from this life to spend eternity with her Savior and those whom have gone on before. She was 88 years old when she died, and while she lived a full, blessed life, her final years were spent in relative isolation being removed (by her choice) from the town where she was born, raised, and retired. She lived and worked alongside her husband for many years in a suburb of Kansas City, and while they retired to Southern Missouri, when grandpa died, she uprooted and moved in with her daughter. We can look at the Ephesians verse and know for certain what “good works” were hers to walk in and we can recount the days that were written in His book for her from birth to death.  Like many of our grandparents that live long, full, and prosperous lives, we sit comfortably aside and affirm that “Yes, God sure blessed them all their days.”

Why then, do we question the validity of these very verses that, when in times of blessing they form the cornerstone of our faith in the providence of the Almighty God, but in times of tragedy they cause some to doubt the very meaning of the verses? Is not every life, all life, written in His book from the moment of their birth to the moment of their death? Why do people insist upon wanting to amend Ps 139:16 to read, “…and in Your book were all written the days that were ordained for me, when as yet there was not one of them provided I live either a long, full life or die by some noble or gallant means?” 

Life, death, and everything in-between. All of this is part of a script that plays out whereby nothing that anyone decides to do, say or think surprises the sovereign God. Our freedom and His sovereignty, like two parallels tracks that make the locomotive arrive at a final destination, are two inseparable elements whose complete understanding is beyond our limited capability. Romans 8:28, “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.” We may not like this verse when we watch the news and shake our heads in disgust at the choices individuals or nations make as they rage war with their fellow man, but we simply cannot dismiss the verse because we don’t fully understand how the events in the moment impact the eternal world whose history is yet to be written.

If we start in Genesis and read to Joshua, we don’t understand why God would command the nation of Israel to murder every living man, woman and child in the Promised Land to which they were moving. From a family (perhaps a better word for Israel at this point in their history) living as slaves in Egypt to the first Theocracy, the orders they were given seem unusual or rather appalling to contemporary readers. Yet the very reason that Israel was in Egypt for so long, as the Scriptures tell us was that the “iniquity of the [inhabitants] is not yet complete.” (Genesis 15:12-16) I have no idea what it means that their iniquity was not yet complete, but if you back up a few chapters in Genesis, I think you get a picture of it. Genesis 6:5 before the cleansing flood reads, “Then the Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great on the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.” Pause for a second and re-read that. What would a contemporary society look like if everything we did was “only evil continually?” I can hardly imagine, but I would suspect that the events over these last few months would pale in comparison to the atrocities of what man is capable of when their every action personifies evil. And while the command was given to Israel to annihilate the inhabitants of the land, the facts as recorded in Scripture tell us they failed to do so and instead they preferred to cohabitate and intermarry with these people. Generations later the extent of their inability to live by the explicit precepts given by their God, manifests in a deplorable activity of child sacrifice (Jeremiah 7:31). This is the story of the Old Testament, promises made to our forefathers, the nation’s inability to keep their end of the bargain, and God punishing an unrepentant generation for their wickedness. And yet in the midst of this, it’s telling that the genealogy of the nation’s greatest king (David) and the very Word that became flesh to dwell among us, Jesus, traces to one of these very nations that Israel was ordered to wipe out (read the book of Ruth).

Did God create evil? No. God created the opportunity for evil when He granted us the freedom to choose between good and evil. After all, the choices that we make are either one or the other. Freedom resulted in evil all those years ago in the Garden, and it’s our disposition today that continues to make that very same choice. When we rebel against God, who is by His very nature goodness, love and light, we demonstrate our propensity to be evil. What we cannot do, nor what we must not do, is attribute blessings to the mighty hand of God while at the same time deny the permission He provides to the Evil One who tempts us, which often results in times of suffering. This is precisely how the plan unfolds for Job. It starts with Satan at the throne room seeking permissions to inflict Job, and ends when Satan has done his worse and Job is a better man for it. Yet while the infliction presses upon Job and at the point when God makes His presence known to him, I believe Job is making the same mistake for which I’m writing here. God’s rebuke is powerful, “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?” (Job 38:4) I remember reading these words just days after Kyleigh’s burial and I felt an overwhelming sense of humility. I believe we will always be susceptible to question the plan. It’s natural to do because the plan is so much bigger than us. I would prefer the plan to be about me and my wishes but that’s my own selfishness at work.

Make no mistake, God never tempts us, “Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’; for God cannot be tempted by evil, and He Himself does not tempt anyone.” (James 1:13). Yet at the same time, we must know that “God is faithful, [He] will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able…” (1 Corinthians 10:13). Rest in the knowledge that the Scripture teaches that God is in control of all things. Big and little, good and bad, nothing, absolutely nothing occurs on this earth without His explicit involvement, command or permission.

~Rodg

I have always been particularly fond of Christmas. My faith teaches me of the significance of this day which is second only to Easter in which the power of the Babe born in those deplorable conditions all those years ago was fully accomplished. I like it because people talk about families. They are more open to talk about their own faith but I suppose most of all I like it because people spend a good deal of time thinking and doing things for others. This is of course, against our natural tendencies, but we’re especially motivated to do something for family or better yet, to do something to help a complete stranger and in some cases, we prefer to remain anonymous in doing so. Churches are generally packed and with few exceptions, people know why it is we pause and reflect on who He is and what He has done. It’s a beautiful time of year not just for Christians, but for the world which is, after all, the scope of His mission. Jesus came to save the whole world, not Americans, not just the faithful (although that is how it works), but He came “to give His life a ransom for many.” (Matt 20:28) Yes – for certain, Christmas is a bright, wonderful and warm season in an otherwise dark, cold and selfish world.

Yet I find this year there’s a new side of Christmas that I’ve never seen before. I’ve seen it portrayed in movies. Heard about it in the songs that some artist’s sing but as with so many things, you cannot fully understand until you’ve had the privilege to go through. This side of Christmas I’m referring to is best summed up in one word. Devastating. That’s a powerful word and as I look back on 2012, I can see so much of the carnage that it has left behind in the wake of life. There’s so much emotion that by the end of the day, I’m physically spent. It’s exhausting.

This is truly the reason why Leann and I chose 2 Cor 9:15 as the Scripture to put on our Christmas card this year. “Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!” This word, indescribable, occurs only one time in the Scriptures and to the best of my knowledge; the exact meaning of the word is still a bit of a mystery. Most translations use the same word, indescribable, which is an odd way to translate a word that is a little unknown. The root of the word gives the idea of the ineffability, or a wonder beyond description of the gift. (Ryrie) There is so much to life that is indescribable.

The weight of the season really didn’t start to crush upon me until Saturday. I got to see a mother of new multiples that are still in the womb glow as she shared pictures of her babies that most mom’s would never dream of possessing. I’m elated to be able to share in their story. That night we went to the ballet and while I’m certain that the performance was phenomenal, I was fully lost in thought about Kyleigh. I never know where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing that will send my head spinning, but that’s what really got the ball rolling.

Next up was Sunday morning. Leann crafted stockings for the five of us this year and we finally decided what to put in Kyleigh’s as we really didn’t want to find it empty on Christmas morning. We resolved to buy socks, so before church, I ran to Wal-Mart (arg!) and found a dozen pairs. That’s the first time I’ve shopped for girls stuff aside from the take-home outfits we’ve purchased through the years. That was like a stab in the gut, but we do it and move on. This morning I purchased fresh flowers that we will take to Kyleigh’s cemetery tomorrow, on Christmas day, an unthinkable tradition that starts this year and ends for me when I’m called home. Tonight we watched a talking dog Christmas movie with the boys that centered on a family whose mother passed away in the fall and they were trying to be happy again for Christmas. In Disneyland I suppose three months is long enough for someone to feel sad. Too bad life isn’t spent entirely in Disneyland.

So back to the gift. Paul writes in 2 Cor 9:13 that it’s the “gospel of Christ” that is the indescribable gift. Gospel simply means “good news.” To me there is more to the Gospel then to focus all of the attention on the aspect of Salvation as there is more to life than our eternal destination. I choose to see this as everything that Christ has done (and will do) in, through and for me. My gift is so beyond my comprehension, but it’s worthwhile to pause and think of a few:

My wife, my partner, my helper, my best friend, she is so much of my gift.

My boys, both Oliver and Garrison as they embrace life and the season and I can see in their eyes the wonder and magic of it all.

My daughter, Kyleigh, for whom my love continues to grow daily. Although I cannot hold her, I know this time of our separation is short and we’ll be reunited soon.

My God, the Author of life, my Savior, Substitute, King and Friend. It’s for Him I choose to live, to Him deserves the credit, honor and glory.

I’m thankful for this new dimension of Christmas that not all are chosen to experience and understand. Sure, I’d rather my story was different but that’s not a choice that I get to make. What I can choose however, is how I respond to it.

~Rodg