tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36751428744766447572024-02-06T17:48:57.407-08:00Kaden Layne HarrisUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger137125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-33894206805145398212017-07-11T12:49:00.000-07:002017-07-18T17:54:22.832-07:00The Season<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDaeINXAO8dbGWy1lB15tLkvwqW5QMUJ1YYFAsLbSezyN0IKre7wBL_j_Yn83ZWbrTrq0qJEW7FVrUVYOzl2CvHUJlKt2W7sc-bQNGoUxkpZGx6sgTUEaNhsnQiNrWFXOGph1-wHjpNXn/s1600/Last.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyDaeINXAO8dbGWy1lB15tLkvwqW5QMUJ1YYFAsLbSezyN0IKre7wBL_j_Yn83ZWbrTrq0qJEW7FVrUVYOzl2CvHUJlKt2W7sc-bQNGoUxkpZGx6sgTUEaNhsnQiNrWFXOGph1-wHjpNXn/s400/Last.JPG" width="400" /></a><br />
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To my dear Kaden Layne...<br />
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Ecclesiastes 3:1-6 reads: "For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away. A time to search and a time to quit searching."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE7r2YDY2WcUMPeyQ1bbRV7MGBkj8jgl239zoD10Af7qnufYhdJFwzN-J7MzPOxSaHh3Xm0NdHLsPY9qMecH7jMMCQMw2hqgFJ0H3KqQMxAjnxyLldqZcaVI23tdKYsmEcdLH5DXpShWVa/s1600/Fourth+of+July+Weekend+020.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE7r2YDY2WcUMPeyQ1bbRV7MGBkj8jgl239zoD10Af7qnufYhdJFwzN-J7MzPOxSaHh3Xm0NdHLsPY9qMecH7jMMCQMw2hqgFJ0H3KqQMxAjnxyLldqZcaVI23tdKYsmEcdLH5DXpShWVa/s320/Fourth+of+July+Weekend+020.JPG" width="213" /></a>It's been seven years since you passed away unexpectedly in your sleep and for a cause still unknown. It seems like forever and yesterday in the same. Without a doubt it's been the most difficult season in Mommy and Daddy's lives. </div>
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Over the past seven years Mommy and Daddy have thought of you each and every day. There are still moments when Mommy tears up just thinking about that July 10th day. Glimmers and glimpses of that sad night make their way back to Mommy's memory every once in awhile. The night we lost you was such a defining moment in our lives. </div>
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For awhile Mommy and Daddy allowed that day to define who we were. We allowed it to determine our mood, our attitude, our future. With the birth of Layne and Jack that changed some. In time, we have seen how God has used this tragic time in our lives to mold our character and deepen our faith. Because of your life and our loss Mommy and Daddy have learned to live for the little things.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5hTUY7iALqmo4-NZ816YU75htZYIV_pL0Dxprgv6z0a7Kcjo4ZlHqWkJPOARBgzCX_pOwmeLGf9dqvmYfAxMfmw67jPLt1s5VYifajL2BbOa_d5XQTNPUhhqoIcIm7cUEyEeasAmQOvx/s1600/Fourth+of+July+Weekend+017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh5hTUY7iALqmo4-NZ816YU75htZYIV_pL0Dxprgv6z0a7Kcjo4ZlHqWkJPOARBgzCX_pOwmeLGf9dqvmYfAxMfmw67jPLt1s5VYifajL2BbOa_d5XQTNPUhhqoIcIm7cUEyEeasAmQOvx/s320/Fourth+of+July+Weekend+017.JPG" width="213" /></a>Bill Hybels senior pastor of Willow Creek Community Church in Barrington, Illinois and author of the book <i>Simplify</i> says, "It's important to identify your current season so that, when the season comes to a close, you'll be less likely to cling to it, and more apt to make a graceful exit and step wholeheartedly into the new season that is dawning." For a long time Mommy felt the need to hold on tight to our short time with you. Writing to you each month started out as Mommy's way of feeling close to you. Having your day, the 10th of each month, was a way for Mommy to reflect on your sweet little life and to remember the little things about you. It became Mommy's way of healing, too. <br />
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Over the years Mommy has been clinging to the grief that losing you brought to our lives. Because of it Mommy and Daddy have both been changed - a lot for the better. This season has given us a perspective we never would have gained if it hadn't been for you. In seven years we have learned so much about what really matters. We thank God for all the lessons your little life has taught us.<br />
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Seven years is a long time. After all these months Mommy's finally ready to make a graceful exit from grief. We know you live on. The warmth that comes when we remember you reminds us of that everyday. It's because of that that Mommy's finally ready to let go of the need to write each month. After seven years Mommy's ready to step<br />
wholeheartedly into this new season dawning -a season of living having learned so much because of you.<br />
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Once a time to look back, now it's a time to look ahead.<br />
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Until we meet again my sweet Kaden Layne...<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-77938126837555500232017-06-11T15:09:00.000-07:002017-06-23T15:10:04.425-07:00The Wedding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCdAPBTbBgtxu5SIUQLCCHxz68jEj899vccUgd2Z5ydH5iPXvBfGYPW1XREZsK44uz2e0R1nlGp4OvQYBXMz-ugqkPM-hjpwfAN-rJ3twTjReOzEB-7XW55px-pKoyMm9zGdkSB3ztgSQ/s1600/Enlight3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="604" data-original-width="403" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGCdAPBTbBgtxu5SIUQLCCHxz68jEj899vccUgd2Z5ydH5iPXvBfGYPW1XREZsK44uz2e0R1nlGp4OvQYBXMz-ugqkPM-hjpwfAN-rJ3twTjReOzEB-7XW55px-pKoyMm9zGdkSB3ztgSQ/s400/Enlight3.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mommy and Daddy celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary yesterday. We made plans to take a trip to Destin and spend our first full day celebrating the day we said "I do". Once your little sister Layne got wind it was a big day, she made sure to make it special. She spent time the night before tucked away in her top bunk making a sweet card. Every once and again she would ask things like "what letters make /ver/?". The morning of she even served us chocolate donuts in bed. Later that night when we had dinner at AJs on the beach, she asked if the waiters might sing "Happy Anniversary" to us. Mommy loves how she loves specials days in our family.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Just a week before our trip to Destin and after years of it collecting dust on Mommy's dresser, Mommy finally buckled down and began to read <i>The Wedding</i> by Nicholas Sparks. Mommy had borrowed it from your Auntie Keshia ages ago and for some reason it made its way to Mommy's nightstand as a decoration. Mommy thought <i>well if it was written by Nicholas Sparks, it must be a good read.</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>. . .</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mommy read the story. It was about a man who admits that after thirty years of marriage the romance once felt between he and his wife had gone away. With his daughter's upcoming wedding he realizes that, while he's provided well for his family over the years, he and his wife had grown apart. He is certain that he loves her more deeply now than ever, but notices his wife may not feel the same. Throughout the story he struggles to find his way back into her heart. Throughout the story they are planning every detail of this event that would mean so much. It's ending was sweet and one that warmed Mommy's heart.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mommy and Daddy are far from celebrating thirty years and I like to think that we are still as connected today as we were the day we married, but one part in particular stuck with Mommy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif;">. . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">After reading that story Mommy felt thankful to have had a wedding that was everything I could imagine. Mommy thought back to every part and every person who played a special role in our big day. The early morning drive to Destin shortly after reading the book gave Mommy plenty of quiet time to think back to our big day.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg12_ouB34NPHw_iMGAinnIbyHI-56B3HJjyuGeGFUfB40LOWRetaqH1LpueoR9IeKwAOZbjTDuJQTC3QUuEb4OaWgVmbK1fkumcJAfqXs0apGOZJ9QDjS5AlgU_CdUgyNsIso2PYAsoD9/s1600/Enlight5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="604" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg12_ouB34NPHw_iMGAinnIbyHI-56B3HJjyuGeGFUfB40LOWRetaqH1LpueoR9IeKwAOZbjTDuJQTC3QUuEb4OaWgVmbK1fkumcJAfqXs0apGOZJ9QDjS5AlgU_CdUgyNsIso2PYAsoD9/s320/Enlight5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mommy thought of the six bridesmaids dressed in all white carrying simple bouquets of pink gerber daisies walking down the aisle before me. Each one picked for a special reason. My sister, my first and forever friend. My former roommates and sorority sisters. My future sister-in-law and my dear friend Sarah. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mommy thought of your Uncle Jamie, our minister. And I imagined him being just as nervous as us since our wedding would be his first. I thought of his perfect words spoken during the ceremony. About marriage being a dance. But not just a dance for two. It was important to include God in the center.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaB0WqGbFjqYAO6wjMFmFn3b7IqEiVGSc12trJ6l1HqOVyz_4SMBCkP_DEovSEw6kY3aF55uhNjugXiw6TONHuE0MrpwG_-B29CXMzsAZvFmPh1NcVeOXKYGTDYLXRwz_MSgrBtrztrLeG/s1600/Enlight1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="390" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaB0WqGbFjqYAO6wjMFmFn3b7IqEiVGSc12trJ6l1HqOVyz_4SMBCkP_DEovSEw6kY3aF55uhNjugXiw6TONHuE0MrpwG_-B29CXMzsAZvFmPh1NcVeOXKYGTDYLXRwz_MSgrBtrztrLeG/s320/Enlight1.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mommy thought of old friends and family who shared in our big day. Great Grandma Brentzel who is no longer with us. Your cousins, so small then, who are teenagers now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">And Mommy thought of that moment when the string quartet played Cannon in D. Mommy in my dress and chapel length veil, holding Papaw's arm. As we walked up the steps from the bridal room and turned the corner Mommy glanced at the light shining through the beautifully stained glass windows nestled into the gray limestone walls. </span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The aisle was long and red, the church pews</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> full of familiar faces.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Mommy took a deep breath realizing it was time.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgco534jp35MNoqriWoFlYLOae4P1-sglRN1XmOX-bJ5R1PuU2YGCCmFqI5KZ7nA8usZ5iYQ0jphwXH-KiEvE2yL69lIHcuRqC04fFglIuS9DVMCuEF1OQW4n6jStnyAaGEHCi7ijU9jpUP/s1600/Enlight2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="604" data-original-width="403" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgco534jp35MNoqriWoFlYLOae4P1-sglRN1XmOX-bJ5R1PuU2YGCCmFqI5KZ7nA8usZ5iYQ0jphwXH-KiEvE2yL69lIHcuRqC04fFglIuS9DVMCuEF1OQW4n6jStnyAaGEHCi7ijU9jpUP/s320/Enlight2.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">At that moment the entire church stood. The violins played the sweet simple melody. Mommy felt a flood of mixed emotions: anticipation, nervousness. So many emotions: thankful and blessed.</span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> It seemed a bit much for everyone to be staring at me. Mommy blushed and felt my shoulders rise as if to help find a place to hide. As we got halfway down the aisle all Mommy could do was stare at Daddy, his smile so big.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Mommy loved having this quiet time to reminisce on that big day in Mommy and Daddy's lives. Something about it made me think back to what I've heard in church. About how God looks at his followers like a bridegroom looks at his bride. It made me think about this scripture I'd heard before and about you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">. . .</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Revelation 21:1-4.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">. . .</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Mommy thought about the part that read <i>He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore". </i> And Mommy thought of you.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGkuCREerl2hf03cxeGNrDXwV3whbzdc2B_Cu-R9xOCi7rUmT5OR0PTeluQ0AYZM5CSJ_PWdPo8THflKvnhTrYyNUy76omAdiynHoLlFJKaTo1mjG0VAS1ZvunvIUTYrhVHuGR6Hr5Ubaq/s1600/Enlight4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="604" data-original-width="403" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGkuCREerl2hf03cxeGNrDXwV3whbzdc2B_Cu-R9xOCi7rUmT5OR0PTeluQ0AYZM5CSJ_PWdPo8THflKvnhTrYyNUy76omAdiynHoLlFJKaTo1mjG0VAS1ZvunvIUTYrhVHuGR6Hr5Ubaq/s320/Enlight4.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Mommy and Daddy may never live long enough to see the coming of Jesus. But it doesn't stop us from wondering what the celebration will be like when we see you again in Heaven. Will the aisle be long? Will we feel giddy with anticipation? Will there be loved ones there to help join in the celebration? Mommy just wonders.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">. . .</span></span></div>
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Until that day comes, Mommy and Daddy will tend to the details of this life in hopes that we may be prepared to join you and our Heavenly Father.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">Love you, miss you sweet girl!</span></span><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-49023558809058459142017-05-11T09:25:00.000-07:002017-05-20T09:25:51.288-07:00Kaden Harris<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ZsotrXd-o5miDcFGtuLtsvamqEX99KNQUZbqUfoyCiJTNP_lAppa6gfmYGB841Nkp-knFhheTp98ANawYZssRjVPSvqn_VBINY3kTIvLvqvJ222vdh7Kfz7WckJMRF5YBGOM-xy31JWg/s1600/image1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4ZsotrXd-o5miDcFGtuLtsvamqEX99KNQUZbqUfoyCiJTNP_lAppa6gfmYGB841Nkp-knFhheTp98ANawYZssRjVPSvqn_VBINY3kTIvLvqvJ222vdh7Kfz7WckJMRF5YBGOM-xy31JWg/s320/image1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The pictures his mommy took during <br />Teacher Appreciation Week.</td></tr>
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<br />For a few years now Mommy has tried to do better with balancing school and home. It's not always easy. Often Mommy feels like a novice at both at the end of the day. Patience seems easier to come by at school more so than home on some occasions, but at the end of the day, Mommy feels optimistic that no matter what everyone knows they're loved. Splitting Mommy's time, energy, and passion between school kids and Mommy's own hasn't always been easy. One way Mommy has been able to do this is by going in to school one night a week after bedtime to play catch-up. <br />
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A few months ago Mommy did just that. After I tucked your little sis Layne in to sleep for the night Mommy slipped on her sketchers and rushed off to school to get a few things done. Mommy loves having the quiet and being surrounded with school made it easier to think about all the things I needed to get done before the next week. Somehow this became easier than bringing mounds and mounds of work home each afternoon. But this Thursday night would be a little different.<br />
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After grading some papers, calculating Oh Snap points, filling out reading logs for the week ahead, and who knows what else, Mommy went on to the next item on the to-do list: Art to Remember.<br />
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Art to Remember is a sweet activity students at Mommy's school do each year with the help of the art teacher. Students draw, color, or paint a picture that would be sent off to a publisher who would then turn it in to keepsakes for a child's family. Eventually students get the original back and the mugs, magnets, and bags make great gifts. The most important way to make it look its best is to have it outlined and use lots of color.<br />
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On this particular night Mommy had it on her to-do list as a favor to help the art teacher. Most students from Mommy's class needed more time to finish adding color and outlining. Mommy had planned for students to finish them the next morning as part of their morning work. On the back of each picture was the student's first name and to help keep track of which class they were in the art teacher had them write the teacher's last name.<br />
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Mommy walked around the quiet of the room with the stack of artwork upside down so as to see the name of the little artist who produced it on the back. After reading the name on the back Mommy would flip it over to admire the original artwork for a moment, and then place it on the student's desk. Mommy worked through the stack quickly as there were many other things to do that night. But as Mommy got to one in particular, it stopped me in my tracks and brought tears to my eyes.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWAuwTqySGTzIORxaokMg3xTW5mvEjllsuVrDtoZGF5w_c9ZrUF8K1EUop4eXOP8534Bd8L38Ws0RvCteYg63zik5ykwl-L74yn7hHFVjuf47oVUKnmBvJqRuRIws6_nvm_rsPAlPYlb6/s1600/image2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzWAuwTqySGTzIORxaokMg3xTW5mvEjllsuVrDtoZGF5w_c9ZrUF8K1EUop4eXOP8534Bd8L38Ws0RvCteYg63zik5ykwl-L74yn7hHFVjuf47oVUKnmBvJqRuRIws6_nvm_rsPAlPYlb6/s200/image2.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mommy's student added the sunshine to his <br />picture the next morning.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In the upper left hand corner Mommy's eyes were drawn. There it was. In pencil, in the precious handwriting of an eight year old, and with the spacing just right so as if it were written to go together, it read your precious name <i>Kaden Harris</i>. Just like the art teacher had asked, the child wrote his first name and the last name of his teacher.<br />
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Tears immediately welled up in Mommy's eyes. Mommy sighed. Mommy admired. <i>So this is what your name might have looked like if you had ever been able to grow up </i>Mommy thought<i>. </i> The tears streamed down. Mommy held that piece of artwork a little longer, gave it a hug, and placed it on the student's desk.<br />
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The moment that night was bittersweet. Mommy loved this moment of thinking about what you might have been like as a second grader.<br />
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As time went on Mommy shared this sweet moment with the child's mother, who happened to also be a teacher at Mommy's school. Hoping that it wouldn't come across as bizarre that Mommy would find something sweet in something as simple as a handwritten name, Mommy told the story of your name. Tears welled up again in Mommy's eyes and her's, too.<br />
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A few weeks ago Mommy received a precious gift. Inside a monogrammed bag was the most treasured piece of artwork ever given to Mommy by a student. Mommy has no idea if this child knows the story behind what makes his art so special to me. All Mommy knows is that it will be treasured forever.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ47kSHrygikfpNOy1HXqQtnP8fYNiP_9m_ph0_woL6EPINfMbk9vSIdzGyJd2mIilPDyCcNu2uEA4foEWdUzwHG7vbkBsvlK7sAFrCEyMhdJnGGtEw_WbifaFo0nJfYR1DYuK2mTZzDMo/s1600/image3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQ47kSHrygikfpNOy1HXqQtnP8fYNiP_9m_ph0_woL6EPINfMbk9vSIdzGyJd2mIilPDyCcNu2uEA4foEWdUzwHG7vbkBsvlK7sAFrCEyMhdJnGGtEw_WbifaFo0nJfYR1DYuK2mTZzDMo/s200/image3.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The artwork is on our fridge next to <br />Layne's school picture. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />This is the time of year when Mommy gets overwhelmed. It's usually because of the million and one things that have to be done. This time, though, Mommy is overwhelmed with a grateful heart. Mommy's thankful for your memory, for the blessing of this child in my class, and for his mother who gave me permission to share.</div>
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Love you, miss you sweet girl. </div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-70505916866228001022017-04-11T20:36:00.000-07:002017-04-13T20:40:06.175-07:00The Easter Bunny<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfGVbQwt89xbcseXSUGj31bMSmQQI0mUHwx6LaSyc-BybIJBdLT3S6TBz7MxR44FZ_ezGX2zUF_3XAAFdqA-3B-i9L_hwp42LHo1AfW3ZY3wKAdijGLU6SKArSZlv1pfMkocqWcLDx-Cr/s1600/Enlight1+%252811%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfGVbQwt89xbcseXSUGj31bMSmQQI0mUHwx6LaSyc-BybIJBdLT3S6TBz7MxR44FZ_ezGX2zUF_3XAAFdqA-3B-i9L_hwp42LHo1AfW3ZY3wKAdijGLU6SKArSZlv1pfMkocqWcLDx-Cr/s400/Enlight1+%252811%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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Hi Sweet Girl. Easter is this Sunday and tonight Mommy was looking back at your time with us at Easters past. You were so much fun the year you could walk with the help of your Donna Ma's giant basket. You were just 15 months old when you first got to hunt for Easter eggs. Mommy remembers the color of the blue in your dress and how it matched your eyes just right.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBdZ0NoXDcegzbOXSQLZzYB1voYxo2W2-8OKu6fpsQ0-6lXLn6HuwS7V8ILUEBc358igIAtRXL4l8q9gQ-qED51sHkw0SXTvf7IfmfQKCRSHMuGAR5FeRSfGmbM704p6uLnG5Y0R-4EAw/s1600/Enlight1+%252813%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinBdZ0NoXDcegzbOXSQLZzYB1voYxo2W2-8OKu6fpsQ0-6lXLn6HuwS7V8ILUEBc358igIAtRXL4l8q9gQ-qED51sHkw0SXTvf7IfmfQKCRSHMuGAR5FeRSfGmbM704p6uLnG5Y0R-4EAw/s320/Enlight1+%252813%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Something else that came to mind tonight was your sister Layne's first Easter. It was a pretty afternoon and the cousins had come. Layne was too little to walk and didn't care much for the prickly grass, so we put a giant blanket down for her to sit with Millie, Cy, and Cruz. The four of them tinkered with a few hand toys and carried on in conversation like little ones do. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJHgAA4abr781f1L5ZFDh7u4EosJm25GHw2UtW96Mq2p60XWblnrVjz6jMnLEjReFRxokLk67VLIAwvmEjlCzhHb3PTNzibLUfmZc9pUFith9kSYd0HX4EZEPQYMgNJ2Z4WiwnHpqOXeb/s1600/11+months+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJHgAA4abr781f1L5ZFDh7u4EosJm25GHw2UtW96Mq2p60XWblnrVjz6jMnLEjReFRxokLk67VLIAwvmEjlCzhHb3PTNzibLUfmZc9pUFith9kSYd0HX4EZEPQYMgNJ2Z4WiwnHpqOXeb/s320/11+months+018.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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While the grown-ups doted over the cuteness of the four of them we became quite surprised by an adorable bunny who stopped to pay a visit. We watched the faces of the little ones but even more so we watched that bunny. Unlike bunnies we had seen before, this one was not shy or timid or afraid. The bunny lingered for what seemed like minutes. It looked back and forth at all the kids and even came within feet of Layne who was on the edge of the yellow blanket. At one point she even stretched her arm out. It was as if that sweet little bunny was trying to let us know that you wished you could be part of family time that day. That Easter bunny warmed our hearts that day.<br />
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Easter continues to be a favorite of Mommy's. The sweet memories of you, the bunny that day, and most importantly the celebration of Jesus' resurrection. Who doesn't love the beauty of spring and the newness it brings? God is so good! </div>
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"For we died and were buried with Christ by baptism. And just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glorious power of the Father, now we also may live new lives." ~Romans6:4.</div>
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Love you, miss you, and think of you every day my sweet Kaden Layne. </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-67405863745364705532017-03-11T20:07:00.000-08:002017-03-12T20:07:59.663-07:00Camouflaged <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiB2PMfwPpR9T6vyJE-GFjbv3Ikfl-C13SlIx85-E3uHp7GGErgDj-O_TztG-A3yY4kdOCIUSAlDHwF_G4hyoHvUuSxEGQYB2tVr8-Ifn0cUqYj1Zuh_Bhd1Mco_2HinCZ7A-27hT0UBzf/s1600/Brian+%2526+Kara+Engagement+%2526+Gatlinburg+062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiB2PMfwPpR9T6vyJE-GFjbv3Ikfl-C13SlIx85-E3uHp7GGErgDj-O_TztG-A3yY4kdOCIUSAlDHwF_G4hyoHvUuSxEGQYB2tVr8-Ifn0cUqYj1Zuh_Bhd1Mco_2HinCZ7A-27hT0UBzf/s400/Brian+%2526+Kara+Engagement+%2526+Gatlinburg+062.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mommy & Daddy in Gatlinburg the weekend we got engaged<br />
in the fall of 2005.</td></tr>
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This weekend was a super special one for our family. We celebrated Daddy's birthday with a surprise party on Friday before heading off to Gatlinburg for the weekend.<br />
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Over the years Mommy and Daddy have made many fond memories in Gatlinburg. That's where Daddy asked Mommy to marry him and where we spent time away during the holidays that first year without you. And even before Mommy and Daddy's time together we each had built memories with our families over the years. It's always been a fun place to go.<br />
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This time going was especially symbolic for Mommy. In November this favorite place of ours was hit by fire thought to be caused by two teens playing with matches. In the end nearly 20,000 acres of beautiful, natural wooded areas burned and twelve people lost their lives because of it. Even the cabin owned by your Donna Ma and Norm Pa's friends burned. So many memories were made in that two story cabin during your brother Jack's first two years. What devastation it was to so many people.<br />
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After breakfast this weekend Mommy, Daddy, Layne, and Jack went on a hunt for something fun to do. We ventured up the windy road toward the top of the Smoky Mountains on our way to the heart of Gatlinburg. As we cruised along we began to see signs of the devastation from November. On one side of the road there were what seemed to be the typical bare trees you would expect to see in the heart of winter. On the other there were the same, except on one side of many of their trunks you could see the scarring left by the fire. The tops of the trees seemed just fine, but it was hard to tell with everything is bare. Every now and then you might see a stump of a recently chopped tree. Even more interesting was the bright green grass that had begun to grow all around. It was long yet fine in many spots. Like fresh spring grass it swayed in the cool breeze. Ironic, I thought. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYa2Mho61XYeN1G8IqlspShe3D9Rfu7Pp3wru_cG4KKvPVYnCH535L7OZZrGWyVQPLdO0wuXSEUQFEbdx08hU95y45zfjHqIu2K8bNIsVP21P4yHRpvhV3uI8vvzP3wjwxaxT3349d3JX8/s1600/Gatlinburg+2008+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYa2Mho61XYeN1G8IqlspShe3D9Rfu7Pp3wru_cG4KKvPVYnCH535L7OZZrGWyVQPLdO0wuXSEUQFEbdx08hU95y45zfjHqIu2K8bNIsVP21P4yHRpvhV3uI8vvzP3wjwxaxT3349d3JX8/s320/Gatlinburg+2008+002.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mommy & Daddy in Pigeon Forge, near Gatlinburg, in 2008. <br />
Mommy was four months pregnant with you.</td></tr>
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As we drove through the mountain Mommy and Daddy talked about how things didn't seem too bad considering all that had happened in November. We realized that the new grass was probably recently planted to disguise the charred remains of the undergrowth. Mommy and Daddy wondered if some trees had somehow been saved, perhaps even protected by their thick bark. We wondered if some of the trees would be able to make it through and how many might need to be cut down later on. In the heart of winter with the leaves all gone, everything seemed to look the same. From a distance there was no easy way to tell what parts had been burned and which were spared.<br />
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Seeing all of this reminded Mommy of grief. The lush green grass made me think of how those of us struggling with grief will sometimes put on a disguise to make others feel like things are fine. The road that split the untouched trees from those with charred trunks reminded me of how life after the loss of someone you love is often defined as before the event and after the event. Seeing some trees with whole sides burned completely from top to bottom and others with just a shadow of black reminded Mommy how grief sometimes consumes our entire life -stealing all the joy and hope and other times just lingers like a rain cloud on a sunny day.<br />
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Of course, like many moments we share as a family, I thought of you. And when I did it began to snow. The flakes seemed huge and at times were coming down so quickly it made it hard to see the road ahead. It was neat to watch the green grass become sprinkled with giant flakes of white. That, too, seemed to remind Mommy of something. It reminded me that even in the worst kinds of devastation there is beauty to be found. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUak1w3naCgaKA-5jBz5HB2YV4ro02Bsn5pSQQImLG9WthZrR0jh68rK9w5mMM-JLURL04TG2pPTxw_xVlJtdkmcvL3vEzwQwKp5bBTLsNtUEzx93DlbCKT2W6FGatI4PoIA0Hc3nJrYqA/s1600/IMG_0227.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUak1w3naCgaKA-5jBz5HB2YV4ro02Bsn5pSQQImLG9WthZrR0jh68rK9w5mMM-JLURL04TG2pPTxw_xVlJtdkmcvL3vEzwQwKp5bBTLsNtUEzx93DlbCKT2W6FGatI4PoIA0Hc3nJrYqA/s320/IMG_0227.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Layne and her cousin Millie in the mountains in 2015.</td></tr>
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Mommy wonders how Gatlinburg will look once it turns spring. Will the grass take and continue to grow on through the bare spots higher up? Will the trees, with their charred bark, find strength to make it through? In years to come will the scars be camouflaged and the beauty be replaced? Perhaps it will be like grief and take years. If so, Mommy hopes that one day the people of Gatlinburg will be able to share the story and tell of how they are stronger and better now because of it.<br />
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Thinking of them and as always, Sweet Girl, Mommy thinks of you in every way.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-39677560099916962492017-02-11T11:41:00.000-08:002017-02-11T11:41:02.941-08:00Overwhelmed<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_iUmiMzVGxzXRxdE79vhpcVbX169pQdZpNzS9maPzeNfx70kb6FWUVwLR71ibTqjkwQ8FbMHageXn_0DBQ-U28QnUrgaluAPHiIZN26qt86cMIYKsx9HdVPi9upAmLTkRHXSk9waBEcXP/s1600/thumbnail_Enlight1-3.jpg" imageanchor="1"></a><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_iUmiMzVGxzXRxdE79vhpcVbX169pQdZpNzS9maPzeNfx70kb6FWUVwLR71ibTqjkwQ8FbMHageXn_0DBQ-U28QnUrgaluAPHiIZN26qt86cMIYKsx9HdVPi9upAmLTkRHXSk9waBEcXP/s1600/thumbnail_Enlight1-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_iUmiMzVGxzXRxdE79vhpcVbX169pQdZpNzS9maPzeNfx70kb6FWUVwLR71ibTqjkwQ8FbMHageXn_0DBQ-U28QnUrgaluAPHiIZN26qt86cMIYKsx9HdVPi9upAmLTkRHXSk9waBEcXP/s320/thumbnail_Enlight1-3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beautiful flowers Mommy's teacher friends from school sent today.</td></tr>
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Overwhelmed seems to be the feeling Mommy has these days.<br />
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Overwhelmed by the meetings and appointments on Mommy's calendar.<br />
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Overwhelmed by the stack of school work Mommy has yet to grade.<br />
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Overwhelmed by the mountain of laundry that's taken over the floor of Mommy's closet.<br />
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Overwhelmed by the to-do list Mommy never has time to even write. There's always something that takes priority the moment Mommy has enough peace to think.<br />
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Overwhelmed by the mess that clutters Mommy's counter in the kitchen and the floor of our home office.<br />
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Overwhelmed by the number of pots Mommy has in the fire of this life at the moment.<br />
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Overwhelmed by the bittersweet memories of today, eight years ago, when you were born.<br />
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February 11th. It's on your birthday my sweet Kaden Layne, Mommy is reminded to keep it all in perspective.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXVzO2WvKwOcUmlVeLeXKYUORRHP-aBHnGQJkZNmm_1VU9if_dqi-qOwWAiCvOgrlZzS-yuXzuKTiA4otBLG0SI7kqIRg7RDXEpOpM6ScrJ5M1vMw5EujI68DnJi8SKchpY-A-Q0iyYC8/s1600/thumbnail_Enlight1-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdXVzO2WvKwOcUmlVeLeXKYUORRHP-aBHnGQJkZNmm_1VU9if_dqi-qOwWAiCvOgrlZzS-yuXzuKTiA4otBLG0SI7kqIRg7RDXEpOpM6ScrJ5M1vMw5EujI68DnJi8SKchpY-A-Q0iyYC8/s400/thumbnail_Enlight1-6.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mommy will never forget how beautiful your eyes always were.</td></tr>
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On this unusually warm Saturday I'm almost certain Mommy would have been ok being a little more overwhelmed.<br />
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A little more overwhelmed deciding which school friends of yours to invite to your birthday party today.<br />
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A little more overwhelmed trying to decide on a theme and a place and a cake and all that which comes with putting a party together.<br />
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A little more overwhelmed trying to figure out a way to manage three kids instead of two while getting all the food for your party prepared.<br />
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A little more overwhelmed trying to keep the house straight before all our guest arrived to celebrate you.<br />
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Mommy would be ok with being a little more overwhelmed.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSMtef5BSjYPZCvHVqEqSojLTlmLkXy8I13UwojayFsgOfKTEp54RjZYw9jLhuDWW82rtU2aBtTm05HE17VfPnIAxBZBE_312dyxv-wJUnQCpuNcL_tVtc5cEbQB18u2TqcSdowdN29VE/s1600/thumbnail_Enlight1-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSMtef5BSjYPZCvHVqEqSojLTlmLkXy8I13UwojayFsgOfKTEp54RjZYw9jLhuDWW82rtU2aBtTm05HE17VfPnIAxBZBE_312dyxv-wJUnQCpuNcL_tVtc5cEbQB18u2TqcSdowdN29VE/s400/thumbnail_Enlight1-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just the three of us. We loved being a family with you. </td></tr>
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So today, Mommy won't complain about never having a moment to do what I need to do. Instead, I will check off the calendar all we accomplished this week and be grateful for the people and opportunities God has placed in Mommy's life.<br />
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Today, Mommy won't stress over the house being a complete and total mess. Instead, I'll admire the toys and books and step over the cars and papers and clothes that clutter our floor and be grateful that I have your brother and sister to make a mess.<br />
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Today, Mommy won't get grouchy over spending all day to catch up on laundry. Instead, I'll carry that load and match all those little socks with a grateful heart. There was a time when that basket wasn't nearly as full.<br />
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Today, Mommy <i>is</i> overwhelmed in a good way as we remember and celebrate your life . The love and compassion extended to our family is so nice. Messages, prayers, sweet gestures and more! We are so grateful and certain we couldn't get through this day without them.<br />
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Happy Birthday to you, our dear Kaden Layne Harris.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-25217871209901293072017-01-11T20:20:00.001-08:002017-01-11T20:20:50.444-08:00Leaning In<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Mommy and Daddy walked in carrying you all snuggled up in your car seat. The brick building was grand and beautiful on the outside. Cornerstones marked the birth of the original building and there was a hint of datedness about it. Inside, the lobby was shaped like a carousel. Light, primary colored carousel horses were displayed sporadically inside the white wood moldings around the top. And there was a window. Translucent and large enough to fill the entire center of this carousel-shaped room, it brought in the perfect amount of light. We were greeted by a warm smile from a volunteer and a gift for you. A pink fleece blanket and a teething ring new in the package. <i>How nice,</i> I thought.</div>
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As Mommy and Daddy sat down I couldn't help but notice the sign: <i>Shriner's Hospital for Crippled Children. </i>Crippled seemed like a strong word, but the more Mommy looked around it was evident that this was a place that was built well before political correctness was a concern. It's engraved plaques on the wall were proof of that. <i>Crippled</i>. </div>
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As we sat there waiting to be called back, Mommy noticed family after family come in. Each had a child who had some type of physical need. Wheel chairs, crutches, walkers, braces, casts. As Mommy sat there looking at you asleep in your carseat I couldn't help but think how lucky we were that our situation was temporary. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your first Easter in your Easter dress with your harness underneath.</td></tr>
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We knew a little what to expect. Dr. Knight, your pediatrician, had shared the possibility of you having something called hip dysplasia. Relatively common for girls born breech and also having a family history of it, hip dysplasia, put simply, was an underdevelopment of the hip sockets. The cup that wraps around the ball of your hip hadn't become deep enough. </div>
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During our appointment Dr. Talawalker stretched and rotated your little chubby legs up and down and all around. An ultrasound was done to see the full scope of your hips and sockets. At the end of his exam he explained that most likely you would grow and develop fine without any treatment, but when you were older you may begin to develop problems with your hips. His recommended treatment option, a hip harness for six weeks.<br />
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Six weeks. When he left the room Mommy and Daddy talked about what would be best. It was easy to come to a consensus. Whatever we needed to do to help you live a full life...even if it wouldn't even make a difference until you were in your late thirties! A hip-harness it would be!<br />
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The decision would be easy, but reality was a little harder to take in. The nurse brought in the white felt and velcro contraption. Straps, belts, booties - it all seemed so complicated. She showed how the straps fit like overalls and the velcro helped to keep your legs drawn up like a frog. Her instructions included the requirement that you wear it day and night, only taking it off for baths and for no more than one hour per day. </div>
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Seeing you with it on made it really sink in. <i>How could you be comfortable wearing that every day? How would we change your diaper, hold you, feed you, strap you in your carseat? Would you sleep well at night having to wear this?</i><i> </i>Mommy even worried, <i>Would this change the person you are meant to be? </i>Tears began to well up in Mommy's eyes. <i> Was this the right decision? </i></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You did not mind your hip harness at all! <br />We were surprised how much you could still<br />sleep in it! </td></tr>
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Mommy and Daddy took you home and like all parents, we just figured it out. Truth be told it bothered Mommy way more than it ever bothered you. It made nursing and cuddling super difficult, but it made that one hour a day something to look forward to. Dirty diapers were the worst since your straps were always in the way, but it gave you and Mommy an excuse to go shopping. Since dresses were all that would fit over your harness, dresses were what you wore! Mommy's favorite was your Easter dress. </div>
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That six weeks seemed to take forever at the time.</div>
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Just a few weeks ago Mommy found myself reliving all these memories with you. The memories were brought back when Mommy had to take Layne in for a follow-up with Dr. Walker. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Layne at Shriner's just before getting casts.</td></tr>
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It wasn't Mommy's first time being there since you. Mommy had brought Layne in two or three times before because of her toe-walking. You see, your sister loves to walk on her toes. She's done it pretty consistently since she was a little over three. And while this isn't really a big deal to Mommy (I think she looks pretty graceful on her toes), apparently there could be a problem with her tendons becoming too tight making it difficult for her to walk flat footed.</div>
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So we were there. Sitting in the same lobby Mommy had sat in with you. Mommy sat watching numerous other moms and dads check-in their children. That sign reminded me of my first visit with you. It reminded me, once again, how thankful I felt that our situation with Layne was minor in comparison to some of the other children who were waiting to be seen. </div>
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When we went back, the nurses and doctors did the same things as before. Mommy went in thinking we would just continue to "watch" how she was doing. Never did Mommy expect to hear the word casts.</div>
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<i>Casts. </i></div>
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Dr. Walker explained that since Layne <i>can</i> walk on her flat feet but chooses not to, her issue is purely idiopathic - a habit. To help break her habit,</div>
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Dr. Walker's recommendation was casts on both feet for six weeks.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPi3JrqV054nuto-zvdMXNc23CtNDG_bWvNSBSNkNnMT9pOhDarXrbXgVzCxX7_ygPauK50ZJ1NdoeJ8gnJqME6FVxBWS4PeBJcy2FA-87NDLkeMWSUv0pI5pIWo3-oGD2OpC320dYD_L/s1600/IMG_5181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPi3JrqV054nuto-zvdMXNc23CtNDG_bWvNSBSNkNnMT9pOhDarXrbXgVzCxX7_ygPauK50ZJ1NdoeJ8gnJqME6FVxBWS4PeBJcy2FA-87NDLkeMWSUv0pI5pIWo3-oGD2OpC320dYD_L/s200/IMG_5181.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Layne was beyond excited to get to ride in<br /> this wheel chair that day!</td></tr>
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When Layne heard the news, her eyes grew bright and Mommy could see a little smile coming on. Of course, what kid of five wouldn't love to have casts, right? Layne thought this would so cool. All Mommy could think of was you. All the parallels started to come to mind. The same worries, the same questions, the same emotions began to surface. It was all too similar, yet so very different.</div>
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That day Mommy walked in holding her hand and walked out carrying her like we had to carry you with your harness. Awkward, unsure. A little worried, yet thankful that this was temporary.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGxPjv9OgfKosu1lnN1RgIcoWHiFz8oBVh7iPH5mwByRoPlFn2XDHJrIpXwODtoUxxYxgbT6o6E8GseNr14xx5VbYMxC7VfshWXhsh9oOPL7_0xQEp3hYRNuDm_qYPCcYyOt4bNlnZqR1/s1600/IMG_5190.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGGxPjv9OgfKosu1lnN1RgIcoWHiFz8oBVh7iPH5mwByRoPlFn2XDHJrIpXwODtoUxxYxgbT6o6E8GseNr14xx5VbYMxC7VfshWXhsh9oOPL7_0xQEp3hYRNuDm_qYPCcYyOt4bNlnZqR1/s200/IMG_5190.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Layne has been a good sport about her casts and<br /> loved that friends and family signed them.</td></tr>
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Looking back, Mommy sometimes wishes we hadn't worried with putting you in a harness. After you passed away Mommy found that wadded up ball of velcro and straps that made your harness. Honestly, it made Mommy mad to think that I lost six weeks of snuggles with you because of that harness. Mommy felt frustrated that we put you through all that so that one day, when you were older, you wouldn't have to worry with bad hips and achy bones. </div>
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Mommy may never understand why things happened as they did. What I do know is my experience with you and this one with Layne have taught me the importance of leaning in a little more to faith.</div>
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Love you, miss you, sweet baby girl...</div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-22443152783257178982016-12-11T18:38:00.001-08:002016-12-21T16:38:18.755-08:00I Love You, Goodnight!<br />
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It's Christmastime again, Baby Girl. One of my very favorites is pulling out old pictures of your first Christmas. Some of my favorites were captured by Michelle Carlisle. Your giant smile and the simple joy in your eyes are what I always look back on. <br />
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After you passed away I worried pictures would never be the same for us. Our family would always be incomplete without your smily face right in the mix of things. It's been interesting for Mommy to see how so much of that has changed. <br />
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It was already December last year and Mommy still hadn't had Layne and Jack's Christmas pictures taken. It was a thought in the back of my mind for weeks, but something I had been putting off, and with it being Jack's first Christmas, I felt even more pressure to get something figured out. It just so worked out that our family photographer had a last minute opening on a random weeknight to squeeze them in.<br />
<br />
"I hope it's ok," she said. When we got there Mommy's eyes lit up! <br />
<br />
"It's perfect," I replied through welled up eyes.<br />
<br />
Michelle had scrounged around in her storage area to find the same white feathered tree decorations she used in your Christmas photo session all those years before. "I tried dusting them off." she said. They looked pretty good to me considering they were over five years old and still in near perfect condition.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPE8tkkai3TcrxMG81bwCIm9ORWtOTF5_T6S-sl2FNMlR4mGWIEEjHg7OpA5y6kyk4HoV3m4Q0s0tbfaSgFwr3vODvnKUH7MOKp0p4KxKRZwICsnlwNXUoHRHzEMRhnVNGLcQzZY7MNFa8/s1600/Enlight1+%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPE8tkkai3TcrxMG81bwCIm9ORWtOTF5_T6S-sl2FNMlR4mGWIEEjHg7OpA5y6kyk4HoV3m4Q0s0tbfaSgFwr3vODvnKUH7MOKp0p4KxKRZwICsnlwNXUoHRHzEMRhnVNGLcQzZY7MNFa8/s320/Enlight1+%25287%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a>As Michelle snapped picture after picture of Layne and Jack so many happy memories of you came flooding back. No sadness, only joy. Mommy felt so blessed knowing this was an experience you all three had shared. Looking back, Mommy's so glad all of it worked out as it did. Little did I know then that our family photographer, the one who captured so many precious images of your first year, would retire this year.<br />
<br />
So there they sit. Side by side on our built in shelving. It makes it feel a little more like you are altogether.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to this year - 2016. Your Donna Ma, or Bobby as all the others know her, wanted to capture a picture of all the grandkids to use for her Christmas card. She had made them all pajamas with their first initials and coordinating plaids. It seemed like everything would look picture perfect except there was one thing we needed. She called Mommy to see if we could come up with a way to include you. <i>Hmm...how could we do this?</i> We tossed around the idea of using your big bear (the one Santa brought for you on your first Christmas) or a little bear you often cuddled while in your rocking chair, but Mommy wanted to come up with something a little more subtle. And then it came to me.<br />
<br />
On the night you passed away, and every night before when you had stayed with your Donna Ma and Norm Pa, you heard these words:<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you like I love blueberry pancakes.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you like I love strawberry milkshakes.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you like frogs love flies.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you like pigs love pies.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you like mice love cheese.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you like vines love trees.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you like windows love blowing.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you like plants love growing.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you like boots love splashing in puddles.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you like bears love kisses and cuddles.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you like the moon at night</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">big and round and warm and bright.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I love you, goodnight. </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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All these words were from a book. Each night when you stayed with your Donna Ma she would read this book to you. At the end, she would take your little chubby finger on that last page and slowly trace around the full moon. After you passed away, she kept that little board book on her night stand next to her bed. As time has passed, she's read that book a million or more times to all the others who've sat in her lap before bedtime. She still does that same thing with their little fingers. And how fitting, Jack will often stretch out his arm in the dark night and with his little finger attempt to trace around that moon that's big and bright.<br />
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The little book. What a perfectly subtle way to include your memory. <br />
<br />
You're never far from our thoughts and always in our hearts. I love you, sweet Kaden Layne, goodnight.<br />
<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-15696449518313906722016-11-13T11:51:00.004-08:002016-11-13T11:51:51.807-08:00Scraps of Time<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXhX6olJG14IlBif29i2g15HSy5g0G8rMWvunzXNJJGQjqsJaxWZq5AoWEEAbFlDBSUHJ4HU5XTcRenWF8zksc2EQapS8GlnOmsUbtoREcIy5gLufwm0LxH3ckKUFViQDv1z_GIBSOrNA/s1600/2016-11-13+14.02.19.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGXhX6olJG14IlBif29i2g15HSy5g0G8rMWvunzXNJJGQjqsJaxWZq5AoWEEAbFlDBSUHJ4HU5XTcRenWF8zksc2EQapS8GlnOmsUbtoREcIy5gLufwm0LxH3ckKUFViQDv1z_GIBSOrNA/s400/2016-11-13+14.02.19.jpg" width="397" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first page of your scrapbook features a picture we used on your birth announcement. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
"Mommy, can I make a scrapbook?" Layne looked up at me with the most hopeful expression in her eyes.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Mommy's first thought went to all the supplies that were collecting dust in the basement. Drawers of stickers and tubs of every colored paper imaginable have been stored in our unfinished basement for years. On birthdays or the occasional holiday Mommy would rummage through the mess to find a certain color paper or stickers to add to the decorations. It had been so long since Mommy had all that stuff out.<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7_O-1Tyy8iNBhj7ALSlDcx-86eBOVWIJ16cyZev8wt99sI_bHPdp0LCRCXe6noHmdOuhz2QhgGYcyJrkPray-etJS704xBIQAIx4H0TjrOHlEJC7a1JWOnMLmTqX3KbgYzN0mJtriddu/s1600/2016-11-09+19.29.18-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge7_O-1Tyy8iNBhj7ALSlDcx-86eBOVWIJ16cyZev8wt99sI_bHPdp0LCRCXe6noHmdOuhz2QhgGYcyJrkPray-etJS704xBIQAIx4H0TjrOHlEJC7a1JWOnMLmTqX3KbgYzN0mJtriddu/s320/2016-11-09+19.29.18-1.jpg" width="320" /></a>When you were here it was much different. Mommy had joined a scrapbook club. Once a month we would meet o put together a special page. Of course, you were my topic. Before you, though, it was other things like Mommy & Daddy's wedding. Before that, it was Mommy & Daddy's time dating. When Mommy first started teaching and before life revolved around a family of my own, I kept a scrapbook of my kids from my classes. Even before scrapbooking was a thing, Mommy created memory books of pictures. College life and my time in the sorority were some of my firsts. For Mommy, treasure was found in the scraps of paper and the memory captured in a photo.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Mommy has always said that if our house ever caught on fire the first thing I'd grab, besides your brother and sister of course, is those scrapbooks. To say they are irreplaceable would be an understatement!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
After you passed away, for some reason, Mommy lost her passion for scrapbooking. Mommy tried to start one when Layne was born, but only got through the first 6 months. Poor Jack doesn't even have one at all. Just like your Aunt Keshia and all Mommy's friends have said, things change so much when you add more babies to the mix. But Mommy doesn't think it's just that. It's something else.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOclH8AyFP00Lg5V873e7SF2-i4gxa6Tek4GYM6LG4yEi6R-KKCIPTXI6Brn7Cz19-Zf_ujhlzwTLiIyDyKo2oecrlOErhLEney10EDRhf2Ewqqg2x3AmSWW9fNI2eY1SsoRsv_mf-snYg/s1600/2016-11-09+19.28.22-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOclH8AyFP00Lg5V873e7SF2-i4gxa6Tek4GYM6LG4yEi6R-KKCIPTXI6Brn7Cz19-Zf_ujhlzwTLiIyDyKo2oecrlOErhLEney10EDRhf2Ewqqg2x3AmSWW9fNI2eY1SsoRsv_mf-snYg/s320/2016-11-09+19.28.22-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is one quote Mommy found on a piece of velum from all the<br />scrapbooking supplies I had when you were here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
So when Layne asked me about scrapbooking, my ears perked up! After Jack went to bed, Mommy and Layne tiptoed downstairs in our pajamas to see what we could find. After a few minutes, we came back up with a whole drawer full of fancy stickers and delicate add-ons. Foam pieces were about all Mommy could find to make a book, but Layne didn't seem to mind. She was just excited to see all the options there were!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We sat in front of the dining room windows under the big light. We flipped through package after package of unopened stickers. We found cut-outs of letters and booklets of velum. The theme was all the same. Many of the colors were too. Layne picked out a few things she wanted to use and began to work. That's when Mommy became completely engrossed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMFqjZlcVK5yXctP4G-eUFtVLPdfWfc-sFpXA_pqTEX4MrL0srmturqWeKFC1ZwWEBMlbMCj-AwUTrHlf8tUcb9QjgH2jR2RO1OF2sCO4fvYmVsRXfr3yYnV9xN-vqdyP9FPsTroHbXxd/s1600/2016-11-09+19.28.00-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBMFqjZlcVK5yXctP4G-eUFtVLPdfWfc-sFpXA_pqTEX4MrL0srmturqWeKFC1ZwWEBMlbMCj-AwUTrHlf8tUcb9QjgH2jR2RO1OF2sCO4fvYmVsRXfr3yYnV9xN-vqdyP9FPsTroHbXxd/s400/2016-11-09+19.28.00-1.jpg" width="280" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking back at some of these quotes now Mommy<br />knows more deeply how true they each are. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
It was the book of velum overlays that really got to Mommy. About a half inch think, it had just a few sheets missing. A few pages had just one or two pieces cut out. So much was still there. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Mommy spent some time reading some of the quotes that were printed on each piece. Just like the stickers and the cut-out letters, the color scheme and theme was the same. Pink with lots of pastels and all about baby girls. Looking at these reminded Mommy of all the scraps of time we missed out on with you. There was still so much we should have gotten to do with you before it was all over. So many moments we should have had with you. In Mommy's book, we were far from the end. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
It's completely random times like these, Baby Girl, that Mommy is reminded of all we missed out on when we lost you. It's the little times like these when things as simple as velum and pink baby bottle stickers take Mommy back to what it was like to have you, what it felt like to lose you, and what it feels like to live on without you. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Like many other times, Mommy wonders how this little moment of scrapbooking with Layne might have been different if she had her big sister there. How would this moment between a mommy and her daughter have been different if you were right there with us too?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Love you, miss you, and still think of you every day my sweet Kaden Layne.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8i2PneKHbXQgMDNXencZJOqyqOQ7DwwKkaHjM8wi6FBXnJRStfcHTyxBYipuwSIutQIDpJ_KOvMRpGPDn_H-BQRoIXnoPpPFto2zYSpx9HTjZPTR7v63eYqRrqfSFWE86OdgSnutnHpyg/s1600/2016-11-13+14.02.08.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8i2PneKHbXQgMDNXencZJOqyqOQ7DwwKkaHjM8wi6FBXnJRStfcHTyxBYipuwSIutQIDpJ_KOvMRpGPDn_H-BQRoIXnoPpPFto2zYSpx9HTjZPTR7v63eYqRrqfSFWE86OdgSnutnHpyg/s320/2016-11-13+14.02.08.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here are a few pictures of some of the pages from your scrapbook. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the last page in your book. These pictures were taken in April, 2010. <br />You passed away June, 2010.</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-61170585883370245502016-10-11T19:45:00.000-07:002016-10-11T19:50:50.946-07:00Don't Worry Be Happy<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbg0dxOQ2zTnzwyYDS8mkVeyC7gQeLQqwgLs_sGpVnVQ4aL2pUxsSKdr76syX84_lEx4ZD1UIt8s4uImtqB-LnLFk3F2ijcAGpufxG3xc-JAE-AGUTmHtQo_OpBSIKYFN8XPWhra5SfoL/s1600/14232619_10211016058623274_7737654008984848312_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXbg0dxOQ2zTnzwyYDS8mkVeyC7gQeLQqwgLs_sGpVnVQ4aL2pUxsSKdr76syX84_lEx4ZD1UIt8s4uImtqB-LnLFk3F2ijcAGpufxG3xc-JAE-AGUTmHtQo_OpBSIKYFN8XPWhra5SfoL/s400/14232619_10211016058623274_7737654008984848312_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack Dean Harris - 21 Months<br />
Sitting on the bench at Grandpa Goose's spot in<br />
Mount Washington, KY.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Hi Sweet Baby Girl,<br />
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When Mommy was a little girl some of my favorite memories were spending time with my grandma and grandpa at the lake. Grandpa Goose was what we all called him. Just like your Papaw loved you, Grandpa Goose loved all of his grand-babies. When we were little, Grandma Judy and Grandpa Goose would take your Aunt Keshia and me camping. Mommy remembers catching frogs and lizards and seeing Native American "artifacts" on some of our trips. One trip even inspired Mommy to work on a special talent - touching my tongue to my nose. Grandpa Goose said that if I could master the art, he would get me a pet lizard. Mommy worked from Summer to Christmas and sure enough, grandpa was true to his word. Even though it was just plastic, Mommy loved that lizard. <br />
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As we grew older, summer weekends were spent playing on Lake Cumberland. Grandma and Grandpa had a houseboat that was big enough for all of us. Mommy remembers Grandma Judy making her beef stew with biscuits and us kids spending our time running up and down the steps from the upper deck to the lower chasing one another. Mommy can still picture Grandpa Goose standing behind the giant wheel of the boat with his arm resting on the frame of the open side door so he could catch the breeze. Playing over the loud speaker, Mommy can still hear it <i>Don't worry, be happy now....</i><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_6CkkFnJYpfTdcH4F7aHXLQ1sGhjm2BOyVhwlbHhzbR0C-oW-vDOYDkLNqLBKMdOKEI9NdFacg3BvGPeTdq0BexaPn_vhiXzL2YQLWl1ISxpjUsjVvk-JhObnjXlfeUMHukCZNJd694s/s1600/GrandpaGoose.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp_6CkkFnJYpfTdcH4F7aHXLQ1sGhjm2BOyVhwlbHhzbR0C-oW-vDOYDkLNqLBKMdOKEI9NdFacg3BvGPeTdq0BexaPn_vhiXzL2YQLWl1ISxpjUsjVvk-JhObnjXlfeUMHukCZNJd694s/s320/GrandpaGoose.png" width="276" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandpa Goose ~ Harold Tatum Sr. & Bobby Jack. As a<br />
kid I used to always think Grandpa looked so much like<br />
Santa with his white beard and his round<br />
belly. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was on that beloved houseboat where so many memories were made. It was also the place we lost our Grandpa Goose to a heart attack. Overworked from carrying large gas cans of fuel for the Seadoos all of us were to ride that Memorial Day weekend. Mommy remembers hearing the phone ring that night we got the sad news.<br />
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Grandpa Goose was the second person Mommy can remember losing when I was a kid. Just a few years before him was Bobby Jack. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWAEmyhjdhthcUXesbQ8E3x0Nv9tTGfAkOEGyrX6jK8V5i-moyaeQhLp87N-ELUlAqeZ-2aqjHPp0MebHtSQpi4VtQ0oTg9GpQnM9J7df19DMn5pvkZ0eob_uek6hqEg1_0rrWN5MSwFgE/s1600/13406955_1027522377338699_8017620222029169755_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWAEmyhjdhthcUXesbQ8E3x0Nv9tTGfAkOEGyrX6jK8V5i-moyaeQhLp87N-ELUlAqeZ-2aqjHPp0MebHtSQpi4VtQ0oTg9GpQnM9J7df19DMn5pvkZ0eob_uek6hqEg1_0rrWN5MSwFgE/s320/13406955_1027522377338699_8017620222029169755_n.jpg" width="196" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mommy's Cousin Bobby Jack Harris<br />
We have a small charm of this picture<br />
we hang next to yours on our Christmas<br />
tree each year.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Bobby Jack was Mommy's cousin. He was the only grandson at the time and Grandpa sure loved him. Sadly, he was born with a serious heart defect. In his short six years on earth, he went through numerous surgeries to repair the wall to separate the chambers of his heart. In June of 1989, Bobby Jack passed away.<br />
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Grandpa Goose loved Bobby Jack so much that when he passed, he was buried right across from Bobby Jack. His marker is even shaped like a bench so that there would be a spot for loved ones and friends to spend time with them. A few weeks ago Mommy got the opportunity to share their spots with your little sister and baby brother. Mommy loved sharing some of these memories with them.<br />
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Because of your life and our loss, Mommy has a deeper appreciation of family and loved ones. Because of Grandpa Goose, Mommy often reminds myself <i>Don't worry, be happy</i>. And because of our faith in Christ, we hope to see all of you again in Heaven one day. <br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Love you, miss you, think of you and all the others we have lost too soon my sweet Kaden Layne.</span></span><br />
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<i style="font-family: times, "times new roman", serif; line-height: 1.24;">In every life we have some trouble</i></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><div style="text-align: center;">
<i style="line-height: 1.24;">But when you worry, you make it double</i></div>
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<i style="line-height: 1.24;">Don't worry, be happy</i></div>
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<i style="line-height: 1.24;">Don't worry, be happy now</i></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ay225SSbo_bpBKGTIX1MPJYSWptHHGMfbLyLaOY1Vf4hvztEFA7J6uiTu9NmQf0ACkXbKcb66YcqwwMs35fickU2je7xGid6b7Wnj7l67KXFVCR9nansda27OkBmaUI5jIZ1LsLmh7Xb/s1600/14222182_10211016076063710_488678137413951695_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ay225SSbo_bpBKGTIX1MPJYSWptHHGMfbLyLaOY1Vf4hvztEFA7J6uiTu9NmQf0ACkXbKcb66YcqwwMs35fickU2je7xGid6b7Wnj7l67KXFVCR9nansda27OkBmaUI5jIZ1LsLmh7Xb/s400/14222182_10211016076063710_488678137413951695_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack Dean named in part after Mommy's<br />
cousin Bobby Jack</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-48549774885045719182016-09-11T18:33:00.001-07:002016-09-11T18:33:10.396-07:00The Keeping Quilt<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">A few weeks ago Mommy had the chance to do something pretty special. Mommy got the chance to meet children's book author Patricia Polacco. Mommy has read many of her well-known stories to the children in my classes over the years. One of my favorites has always been <i>Thunder Cake</i>. </span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">One book that is another favorite for me and many others is called </span><i style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">The Keeping Quilt</i><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EpIZmjz9jy3CwoP4P_sCM-BwgQAMxCbCzy6-dImXGPmbApxUJyEkx2Uw00OZ_ws_2HwchWk1Vo5F0G8zFQWwVTNaOAONsYfRfuxENLwObS0OnhN8pFC8372t1JkH7Af9qzD5ZlgQaR91/s1600/Screenshot+2016-09-11+20.44.17.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EpIZmjz9jy3CwoP4P_sCM-BwgQAMxCbCzy6-dImXGPmbApxUJyEkx2Uw00OZ_ws_2HwchWk1Vo5F0G8zFQWwVTNaOAONsYfRfuxENLwObS0OnhN8pFC8372t1JkH7Af9qzD5ZlgQaR91/s200/Screenshot+2016-09-11+20.44.17.png" width="200" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The story illustrates how a little girl's grandmother worked to keep the memories of family close by cutting pieces of fabric from the clothing of relatives left behind in Russia. The quilt, with it's bright colors, was passed along from mother to daughter for almost a century. It was used as a tablecloth for family meals, a wedding canopy, and a blanket for new babies. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiciYgSdqbC_fft2n7uXIBRW2fWWDVa5PWunjvzI3YHFYPvXfiaKt0VXNbpP7_gH7aVaTXHgsnRDQ3L61SiewL8phsBmhX-2e5zeoZ4FzeAK_V8ypZPuAF5thjHPnE-9fGndDUduTzryYtB/s1600/Enlight1+%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiciYgSdqbC_fft2n7uXIBRW2fWWDVa5PWunjvzI3YHFYPvXfiaKt0VXNbpP7_gH7aVaTXHgsnRDQ3L61SiewL8phsBmhX-2e5zeoZ4FzeAK_V8ypZPuAF5thjHPnE-9fGndDUduTzryYtB/s200/Enlight1+%25285%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">During her visit Mommy was able to listen to her tell stories. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> I heard her tell the stories of her life as a child and of </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">how that special quilt was used in her family. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">She told the best stories. Ones like your Poppy and Grandma Judy.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;">Listening to her made me think of you and your special quilt. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Scraps of cotton from summer dresses and colorful bibs, pieces of soft minky fabric from the scraps of snuggly blankets your Donna Ma made. Your Aunt Alex took these and created for Mommy and Daddy a keeping quilt of our own. It turned out beautiful and it is easy to see it was made with a great deal of love. </span><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">It was less than a year after you passed away. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Just like in the book <i>The Keeping Quilt</i>, each piece tells a little story, in each piece there is a memory. We have used your quilt as a picnic blanket, a play mat, and a decoration in your sister's room. Mommy has to be honest, I've been a little protective of it over the years. Mommy wants it to last a really long time. One day, when Jack and Layne are old enough to have babies of their own, Mommy hopes to pass it on as a way of keeping you close to them.</span><br />
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<i style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">We will make a quilt to help us always remember home,” Anna’s mother said. “It will be like having the family in backhome Russia dance around us at night.” </span></i><br />
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;"><i>~From Patricia Polacco's </i>The Keeping Quilt</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">Love you, miss you, and think of you always Baby Girl.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 20px;">P.S. Jack & Layne are both asleep right now...tomorrow Mommy will try to snap a picture of them with your keeping quilt. xoxo</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuRKVQKYGEYtL-KWSGRrrUsykKF5l1D-aSkd2RaQCXgC163ECdtjq1TINWcfAgdQQAuYl9eY-dNPeVfI5tg_7TgkKt9lO_kNFSA3DE4mfMB1bnW7PR38moMrcodBwhLh9XgskOlVOywXIL/s1600/Enlight1+%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuRKVQKYGEYtL-KWSGRrrUsykKF5l1D-aSkd2RaQCXgC163ECdtjq1TINWcfAgdQQAuYl9eY-dNPeVfI5tg_7TgkKt9lO_kNFSA3DE4mfMB1bnW7PR38moMrcodBwhLh9XgskOlVOywXIL/s320/Enlight1+%25286%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;" /></i><br style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 20px; text-align: justify;" />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-30010876551874586482016-08-11T10:11:00.000-07:002016-08-14T10:34:22.282-07:00Never Grow Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZz-MRWKJWGLSQrZXbeFX7hu3Lr2nmn78ufOkr6q3_xUMfvUuhBjneVc57JYKjbnsuPsvirhdua-UycZNtWbuVf-2WFGMiM3aOHPa-y_JYbyGX7MmUIHraJqFdjLk5aBgAUQsDzj2RqIHm/s1600/thumbnail_Enlight1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZz-MRWKJWGLSQrZXbeFX7hu3Lr2nmn78ufOkr6q3_xUMfvUuhBjneVc57JYKjbnsuPsvirhdua-UycZNtWbuVf-2WFGMiM3aOHPa-y_JYbyGX7MmUIHraJqFdjLk5aBgAUQsDzj2RqIHm/s400/thumbnail_Enlight1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
One of Mommy's favorite spots in our whole house is this little wall inside Mommy and Daddy's closet. What's on it may not seem like much to many. It's a bit messy, a little inconsistent, and looks to most like scribble scrabble. But what's on that wall is super precious to me. It shows a little of Jack and a lot of Layne. Over time it's become Mommy's favorite.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgveCxplCZCKCLT0Mf_ZZRROyZSPoqnO5HPvAU51HhaEgnRQ3mAke9aQYJoy_jOEd7DTsWYwwgUyRsce8Qs8YaDNSFzpBBwJKkG22ml4mBF6ITNC6g9RUPOhAtaINTpqdauTLezGVFK1IG/s1600/thumbnail_Enlight1-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgveCxplCZCKCLT0Mf_ZZRROyZSPoqnO5HPvAU51HhaEgnRQ3mAke9aQYJoy_jOEd7DTsWYwwgUyRsce8Qs8YaDNSFzpBBwJKkG22ml4mBF6ITNC6g9RUPOhAtaINTpqdauTLezGVFK1IG/s200/thumbnail_Enlight1-3.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack has grown about four inches<br />in the last six months!</td></tr>
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On that wall are the markings of Layne and Jack. It shows how much they have grown over the last few months and, for Layne, years. It's Mommy's favorite spot because it's a concrete example of how much they have each grown. Its pencil markings are reminders of how blessed Mommy is to watch them grow up. I love seeing their little lines move up and up.<br />
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On that wall there's one thing missing. You.<br />
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This time of year Mommy often hears people say they wish time could slow down, that their kids are growing too fast. While Mommy has those moments too, more often than not, Mommy finds herself excited to see how your little brother and sister are growing up. With each milestone, Mommy sees a little of what it might have been like with you.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfMLIbRj7ohPtN6RSVShIZ6qmGXmnJcZtz3VYrMCkrSgirEd1A8OPi3IAkf0X-YtMoQB6wEp-7Zt_V72D-SDRZrwLk2nnQreXV-JjxXCol_nWAiHy5ZPCzad9_Djxp0JrWgfPmds-Ai-z/s1600/thumbnail_Enlight1-4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHfMLIbRj7ohPtN6RSVShIZ6qmGXmnJcZtz3VYrMCkrSgirEd1A8OPi3IAkf0X-YtMoQB6wEp-7Zt_V72D-SDRZrwLk2nnQreXV-JjxXCol_nWAiHy5ZPCzad9_Djxp0JrWgfPmds-Ai-z/s200/thumbnail_Enlight1-4.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Layne has begun to write her<br />own name next to her<br /> marks on the wall.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In the weeks after you passed away Mommy filled much of the empty time seeking information. At first it was answers related to what could have caused you to be taken from us so suddenly and without a cause. As time went on, deep curiosity filled Mommy's mind. What was it like for you in Heaven? Would anyone there know your bedtime routine or your tickle spots? Would anyone be there to make you feel special or would you just be lost in the crowd? And what Mommy wondered most of all, would you grow up or stay little? <br />
<br />
Everything Mommy learned about Heaven shared how the body is made whole again. That everything broken would be fixed. That disease and disability would be gone. The old would become young again and the pain and suffering felt on earth would forever go away. But what about the youngest? What about babies? Would they grow up or would they stay little? Vague and unsure were the answers of most of the authors. <br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5W6CYx-OXUhtTBthgAaPDvNKEgrHYHHtEcumVqhrPc7BEstviqI55_-bxq36yC8rcyHb8zG3Yjz91JmTQ246Hv56McMFV_ZywcjawTD1dLzGyxdSduf61q2mXU8yyFlFgw1ihebJ2HdAn/s1600/thumbnail_Enlight1-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5W6CYx-OXUhtTBthgAaPDvNKEgrHYHHtEcumVqhrPc7BEstviqI55_-bxq36yC8rcyHb8zG3Yjz91JmTQ246Hv56McMFV_ZywcjawTD1dLzGyxdSduf61q2mXU8yyFlFgw1ihebJ2HdAn/s320/thumbnail_Enlight1-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here you are dancing with your cousin Cy. <br />Cy's in third grade this year.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This week Mommy started another school year. Mommy can already tell I have a super sweet group of twenty-six seven and eight year olds. They are bright. They are kind. They are fun to watch. They would have been your classmates, your friends. As the year begins, it's hard not to wonder which ones of the kids in Mommy's class might have been your good friends. It's hard to watch them play together outside and not wonder where you might have fit in. In some ways, it's hard to even imagine you being that big. <br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlU6WAeNXio99cVrvIu1wqT5MojpxTMTYrs4pmaSbifjlwvkM-sw7u7eF_AwqZno2x8yQteMI4dQXq_2U11xiSzWm2sJGE2JG6rtlldiH11dKZ2vx356QV9A828NR-NRshZPDxqChWgV27/s1600/thumbnail_Enlight1-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlU6WAeNXio99cVrvIu1wqT5MojpxTMTYrs4pmaSbifjlwvkM-sw7u7eF_AwqZno2x8yQteMI4dQXq_2U11xiSzWm2sJGE2JG6rtlldiH11dKZ2vx356QV9A828NR-NRshZPDxqChWgV27/s320/thumbnail_Enlight1-2.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mommy sure misses this smile. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Five and a half years. It makes me sad to even think of all that Mommy may have missed out on. If Mommy could have it my way I would ask, please baby girl, never grow up. Stay little. <br />
<br />
While the time Mommy had with you may have been short, the love that Mommy feels stretches far greater. <br />
<br />
Love you, miss you, think of you always Sweet Baby Girl.<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-10324727410868355812016-07-11T04:19:00.000-07:002016-07-15T10:43:42.248-07:00The Empty Chairs<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZU7CYpxfreQKytNwA7L-QLEndHUmivDbzXq3_CfdI6A_MZqjmyCeeYCEUXxGHhzz_Ze_jpaCtlSdYobFR0cIX1qokyyWaw2TVYIoR7FW1ceX7yHETNkxlFVrRxhQ3x8wJ499WefXbp3E/s1600/IMG_3037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMZU7CYpxfreQKytNwA7L-QLEndHUmivDbzXq3_CfdI6A_MZqjmyCeeYCEUXxGHhzz_Ze_jpaCtlSdYobFR0cIX1qokyyWaw2TVYIoR7FW1ceX7yHETNkxlFVrRxhQ3x8wJ499WefXbp3E/s400/IMG_3037.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
My Dear Kaden Layne,<br />
<br />
Mommy stood beside the other girls smiling as the picture was taken. Each of us held up a small charm that we had pulled from the bridal shower cake. With the ribbon tucked between our fingers, we each held up a different one. The charm, a gift from the bride.<br />
<br />
Mommy's was a tiny silver rocking chair. The thought of a rocking chair reminded me of grandmas taking it easy on the covered porches of little old towns. Secretly Mommy wished she had picked a different ribbon to pull. What would I do with a rocking chair? How did this little charm say anything about my life at the time? After all, Mommy had just married Daddy a few years before and we were far from that phase of life. The dainty charm was tucked safely in the back of my jewelry box.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdZWy24UkZjBmVOMTMqGaQNcLFgoFbPwBsEP_xvoOBAVTjP1F616rW6GSztEBQHMEsXPePthH5iRSohdULPcR018m_ZSaKZVepVaIDB3nPRMQxXr7CJEyCcMeagsoEdpLx4x2CWT9AW62/s1600/Enlight1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdZWy24UkZjBmVOMTMqGaQNcLFgoFbPwBsEP_xvoOBAVTjP1F616rW6GSztEBQHMEsXPePthH5iRSohdULPcR018m_ZSaKZVepVaIDB3nPRMQxXr7CJEyCcMeagsoEdpLx4x2CWT9AW62/s320/Enlight1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ashley & Mike's Wedding ~ June 2008</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A few months later it was the big day for this special friend. For Daddy and Mommy, this would become a pretty special time in our lives as well. The morning after the bride and groom said their I Do's, Mommy found herself holding a test that said YES! <br />
<br />
It had been months of wishing, hoping, dreaming. Months of disappointment, worry, and even a little grief. But that three letter word changed it all for Mommy and Daddy. That was the day Mommy and Daddy will never forget. That was the day we first learned we would have you!<br />
<br />
Over the next few months Mommy and Daddy did the traditional things new expecting parents do. We read. We planned. We gloated. We worried. We dreamed of what our little family would be like. When you were born, Mommy and Daddy's hearts felt full.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVWxuywn4JmA5JsKwFkjpS9WgDiw8mlkdT2rW4BcoeWZpeYd-FhmMyNrHqc5butSOUakKYUPSizsScw0Y8NApiuinFaycYeg0vJ6PtiNm2_AMIeSMZdvldSNiUpp0WKy9xcxWdn5UsIKM/s1600/Enlight1+%25283%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtVWxuywn4JmA5JsKwFkjpS9WgDiw8mlkdT2rW4BcoeWZpeYd-FhmMyNrHqc5butSOUakKYUPSizsScw0Y8NApiuinFaycYeg0vJ6PtiNm2_AMIeSMZdvldSNiUpp0WKy9xcxWdn5UsIKM/s200/Enlight1+%25283%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You at 3 months sitting all by yourself <br />
in Mommy's rocking chair.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
That year Mommy got a rocking chair for my birthday and Mother's Day gift from your Donna Ma and Norm Pa. For your first Christmas, your Great Grandma Judy got you a rocking chair of your own. Your name was embossed on its wood - a tradition started by your great grandma for each new grandbaby.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tRipti6kHi3rsZlclqqo2g-V6BOwGSUrBkmoYCUz7Z-V3aJcZqEw2kGekgG38cKDi1x3YLWsutM_y7t5HUa2u4cfgeUC7gKdb0p3yqdoPvFat0YZzFMy7Q-2XLTSQHHPcFwcHYS7TyB5/s1600/Enlight1+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0tRipti6kHi3rsZlclqqo2g-V6BOwGSUrBkmoYCUz7Z-V3aJcZqEw2kGekgG38cKDi1x3YLWsutM_y7t5HUa2u4cfgeUC7gKdb0p3yqdoPvFat0YZzFMy7Q-2XLTSQHHPcFwcHYS7TyB5/s200/Enlight1+%25281%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your first Christmas at Great Grandma Judy's <br />
with your new rocking chair. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When you passed away about six months later it was so incredibly hard to see your empty little chair. It was hard to see everything of yours really. There were so many empty chairs all around us - your high chair, your carseat, even the space in Mommy's grocery cart. Today, there are others -the empty chair at our small kitchen table at breakfast, the empty seat next to your little sister on the roller coaster ride at the kiddie fair, the chair in what might have been your second grade class at Mommy's school. There are empty chairs all around.<br />
<br />
<br />
Mommy thinks back to all the pictures I have of you in your rocking chair and me in mine. Those pictures and the tender memories they share are precious to me. Mommy thinks back to the bittersweet feelings that came when your baby sister began to enjoy the things that were once yours, including those chairs. I can think of a handful of pictures of her sitting by your window with a smile so big and I can still remember thinking of you. And now, I can't help but laugh thinking about your adventurous eighteen month old little brother Jack climbing up, cautiously maneuvering to stand big and tall, raising his hands overhead, and squealing with delight! I'm so glad we have those little chairs. Yours still sits by your window in your room.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9AcoSrmpZZk5zULHiJntJpXOVDgm-jqEACn4lkiVTa2qtzoaXmTbDt_AdH3bG1YTpGvIOT_6DbbKQyQ6QLLh_GSvoHQb1m5YgicXgiLx7Y7Dxm4mZghK1P29yZm9fXyUU2uM3bLSDiUF/s1600/Enlight1+%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9AcoSrmpZZk5zULHiJntJpXOVDgm-jqEACn4lkiVTa2qtzoaXmTbDt_AdH3bG1YTpGvIOT_6DbbKQyQ6QLLh_GSvoHQb1m5YgicXgiLx7Y7Dxm4mZghK1P29yZm9fXyUU2uM3bLSDiUF/s320/Enlight1+%25284%2529.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your rocking chair still sits by your window in your bedroom. <br />
Such sweet memories of you.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Mommy once heard a sermon from a well-known minister in Louisville. If Mommy recalls correctly, the sermon was about who you would pick to have dinner with when you got to heaven. To help illustrate the message the church had a dining room table set up on the stage with different chairs placed around. One of them was a high chair. Of course I thought of you. During the message there were references to the people in our families we may have lost over the years. The overall message focused on the belief that as Christ followers we will see these loved ones again in heaven one day.<br />
<br />
When Mommy thinks of that little silver charm I think of your rocking chair and of all the people in my life who have empty chairs too. That little charm is also a reminder that there will be a day, probably a long time from now when Mommy is old and gray like those little old women on the covered porches. And one day, there will once again be a rocking chair for you and me to share. <br />
<br />
Until then my dear Kaden Layne, I carry you with me...<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-58673233623088693312016-06-11T21:38:00.000-07:002016-06-11T21:39:30.857-07:00Worth a Thousand Words<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNytcuGHxqstWya4fmqcoBKZZMesR-aqN6G7TPsFz94QgmOLLhyHinACxUxx8X7OmqNofiooDqHiuirXSbGw4fyBjhzLiQS_cC7bwE0uktUSpsiCJ11H31j55_b0SW0hXkr6o9uWMor31f/s1600/Enlight1%25284%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNytcuGHxqstWya4fmqcoBKZZMesR-aqN6G7TPsFz94QgmOLLhyHinACxUxx8X7OmqNofiooDqHiuirXSbGw4fyBjhzLiQS_cC7bwE0uktUSpsiCJ11H31j55_b0SW0hXkr6o9uWMor31f/s400/Enlight1%25284%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
Hi Sweet Girl,<br />
<br />
It's June and with summer comes vacation time for us. It won't be long before we take your baby brother Jack to the beach for the first time. Tonight, I found myself revisiting some of our last memories made as a family on our vacation with friends to the Outer Banks in North Carolina. As Mommy scrolled through the pictures of you and me and of you and daddy, the memories, warm feelings, and perfectly happy times came back like it was yesterday. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpuTsOynlH6Td0dQtS857S6puxh-b1_ruXznKv0lMEYdXFGNhGYaZJxwLleBOVrUpnmd0wOVssff6rUhYhvSAYB4i5KfNGyvGO9aohnsIF_-bRPpr7SdPOIPPe3OkBhHxiSvoOogpuJi0/s1600/Enlight1%25285%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbpuTsOynlH6Td0dQtS857S6puxh-b1_ruXznKv0lMEYdXFGNhGYaZJxwLleBOVrUpnmd0wOVssff6rUhYhvSAYB4i5KfNGyvGO9aohnsIF_-bRPpr7SdPOIPPe3OkBhHxiSvoOogpuJi0/s320/Enlight1%25285%2529.jpg" width="213" /></a>In these pictures Mommy sees so much joy. In our eyes there is no glimmer of sadness or hint of disappointment. In our smiles there are no signs of sorrow or burdens of grief peering through. Our hands hold your weight and our hearts hold the excitement of all that we have to look forward to in this life with you. In these images Mommy only sees complete and pure joy. <br />
<br />
That was six years ago. The pictures since then have been a smorgasbord of emotional and physical highs and lows. After much needed time to heal and the blessings of your sister Layne and baby brother Jack, Mommy and Daddy are just now at a place where life is feeling a little more balanced again. Our joy is finally beginning to cancel out all the sadness and grief. Our smiles in pictures these days are beginning to resemble those captured in our memories with you all that time ago. The pictures being painted are finally more like our reality again. <br />
<br />
With the recent turn of the calendar, Jack turned 17 months old. So much of you is wrapped up in him. From the squishy legs to the
toothy grin, he's a boy version of you for sure. Mommy sees so many of
your sweet expressions in his precious face. Even his jibber-jabber carries a similar tune. When Mommy
looks at him, watches him, loves on him and plays with him, I find it
incredibly difficult to believe this is where it all stopped with you. You were one day shy of 17 months when you unexpectedly passed away. One day shy of another day with us. <br />
<br />
<br />
Looking ahead to our vacation Mommy can't help but be excited for all the moments we will get to experience with Jack's first visit to the beach. Mommy's thankful that through your life and through our loss, we have gained an incredible appreciation for the joy that comes with the simple things. <br />
<br />
If a picture like this is worth a thousand words, the emotion it stirs in this Mommy's heart is completely priceless.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMmNekenSIsVEfcoTaLYDEw-HlvukxCDPfuWkGR9V9YAM32AbV2i2UI_JCIFcka0jpKMRx1wNY9wf_vo3Gp1fdofUyVjndjGOmK-PddhCj6JFpC3mLeWMCgKfBNjPdoGx5zIcFj-cWfxt_/s1600/Enlight1%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMmNekenSIsVEfcoTaLYDEw-HlvukxCDPfuWkGR9V9YAM32AbV2i2UI_JCIFcka0jpKMRx1wNY9wf_vo3Gp1fdofUyVjndjGOmK-PddhCj6JFpC3mLeWMCgKfBNjPdoGx5zIcFj-cWfxt_/s320/Enlight1%25281%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Love you, miss you, and always carrying you memory with us Sweet Girl. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2n0N0RrrPH_qlZFyEX5MVa5OdSHSGPWFH-FA6cDx4OdvMNv9JVJjXEui4SxlTkhXZR_3WEqR94pjIf7v7YkWsX6F9MfSnlQEENU4nL4vs_yQmzQYEP1n1i79rSdPS6V_wn7bbOGiXxXEa/s1600/Enlight1%25286%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2n0N0RrrPH_qlZFyEX5MVa5OdSHSGPWFH-FA6cDx4OdvMNv9JVJjXEui4SxlTkhXZR_3WEqR94pjIf7v7YkWsX6F9MfSnlQEENU4nL4vs_yQmzQYEP1n1i79rSdPS6V_wn7bbOGiXxXEa/s400/Enlight1%25286%2529.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My favorite part of this picture is Daddy's smile. He was always so happy to see you and play with you and would work so hard to get you to giggle and laugh. He loved you so much and Mommy loved him even more because of it.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2Oh5TvDYar3NDKgnrjgm1AGHO4vaoc7xADJPOvUxA6ja0AdXL16FT8MP7EJRzT3Caw4PLEEoXf7dvqbgA2gLXTHZlqgLM4dRQuQTv42DM8LzbG8iuBT1QUuuVAOmzzUVARIFbjMz5I9G/s1600/Enlight1%25289%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI2Oh5TvDYar3NDKgnrjgm1AGHO4vaoc7xADJPOvUxA6ja0AdXL16FT8MP7EJRzT3Caw4PLEEoXf7dvqbgA2gLXTHZlqgLM4dRQuQTv42DM8LzbG8iuBT1QUuuVAOmzzUVARIFbjMz5I9G/s400/Enlight1%25289%2529.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is one of my very favorites from our vacation. You were so exhausted from our day at the beach that you fell asleep the minute we loaded you in your car seat. My favorite part of this picture is your sweet bottom lip all puffed out. It reminds me how kissable you always were. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7aBPl2HGg_-gPJro3-wS7Pm6g8C5nvWBX5MEn1fENYx9G_fdbNjZww4A0PBJ6o2dYHcyF7h72dlXEi0N2hE_mRBAGZwUHYHaWwfoRGdM_27lbrofD0f4DUkwhvX5DYY5keMK2eyakb92i/s1600/Enlight1%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7aBPl2HGg_-gPJro3-wS7Pm6g8C5nvWBX5MEn1fENYx9G_fdbNjZww4A0PBJ6o2dYHcyF7h72dlXEi0N2hE_mRBAGZwUHYHaWwfoRGdM_27lbrofD0f4DUkwhvX5DYY5keMK2eyakb92i/s400/Enlight1%25287%2529.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mommy always thought you looked so grown up in this picture. I love the way the sun highlights the rolls on your arms...one of Mommy's many favorite parts of you. No other baby could compete with those "muscles".</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYitV1-VOqNET5Xx09kjne4sJm59OpmobDHBfeNgu_9RBeLVxQQjxGqgC2fuOI8QD7hMkJ_VhaktloYhhIN0mJGKcRi8iP5X12PvrQMLzPpyaLa_54QVmR_pvrEtzGOp2cGKLNyQ9p16X/s1600/Enlight1%25288%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYitV1-VOqNET5Xx09kjne4sJm59OpmobDHBfeNgu_9RBeLVxQQjxGqgC2fuOI8QD7hMkJ_VhaktloYhhIN0mJGKcRi8iP5X12PvrQMLzPpyaLa_54QVmR_pvrEtzGOp2cGKLNyQ9p16X/s400/Enlight1%25288%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your smile in this picture is what I often think your smile might have been like today. I love how your eyes are smiling back too!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-13863098109266093992016-05-11T18:02:00.001-07:002016-05-13T18:52:21.492-07:00Dedicated<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Hj_JDpfRTjyGLw7QUJbpNRGetDauY6RRGVJ89DjnjHCtuVGkkxlFL22TAkuAJBbI66koBtgmdYbIIcKO_O9yuN8HA_9HhR1krrw6yZFDn4yiMGhlEOjCIVk89IkAzbMNjAHz8-pZUq3q/s1600/30165_1461672147656_7397821_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Hj_JDpfRTjyGLw7QUJbpNRGetDauY6RRGVJ89DjnjHCtuVGkkxlFL22TAkuAJBbI66koBtgmdYbIIcKO_O9yuN8HA_9HhR1krrw6yZFDn4yiMGhlEOjCIVk89IkAzbMNjAHz8-pZUq3q/s400/30165_1461672147656_7397821_n.jpg" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is you at 15 months. It was a pretty <br />
Sunday afternoon. We had just attended Uncle<br />
Jamie's church service in NKY. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Hj_JDpfRTjyGLw7QUJbpNRGetDauY6RRGVJ89DjnjHCtuVGkkxlFL22TAkuAJBbI66koBtgmdYbIIcKO_O9yuN8HA_9HhR1krrw6yZFDn4yiMGhlEOjCIVk89IkAzbMNjAHz8-pZUq3q/s1600/30165_1461672147656_7397821_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>Hi Sweet Girl,<br />
<br />
Today is your day and so much has happened over the past month. So much of it has been good, so much has been a whirlwind.<br />
<br />
Sunday was Mother's Day. On Sunday we also celebrated your little sister's birthday. FIVE! Can't believe she is a whole hand now! It seems like just yesterday she came. Your little sis was the rainbow after the storm for our family. Over the past five years she has brought so much joy back to our lives. Sometimes we like to think she gives us a glimpse of what you may have been like. We treasure that so very much.<br />
<br />
Sunday was also a special day for another reason. Layne and Jack were dedicated at church. Baby dedication has always been held on Mother's Day at our church. Even when you were here with us, it was on Mother's Day. For some reason, we never had you dedicated. Mommy thinks it's probably because we were always out of town visiting Grandma Trish and your Donna Ma. After you passed away, Mommy felt guilty for not every having you dedicated. Over time, I've come to realize that you being in heaven is sort of like the opposite of dedication. It's more like a graduation of some sort.<br />
<br />
You see, when God blessed Daddy and Me with the news that we would have another baby just one month after you passed away after all those years it took for us to conceive you, I knew that your presence with God in heaven must have had something to do with that answered prayer. <br />
<br />
Nine months later, as God listened to Mommy's fears of being a childless mom on Mother's Day, God and you worked together to devise a plan far better than Mommy's scheduled c-section.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLDSkAiZyLffoG-BvPZg5H6qWoAYNDqUJ-5vGya_DsF3wMaDlsC7ZKjwhkJBqt6C69xXP8sYP8fh_7y76rie8OTIhSrhRGEUkoXwzUX9PgWXyIZnimhAlGO9iYPr_SsFl-suHwGuIpfW8/s1600/13147669_10209809046608728_6137257742944451953_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxLDSkAiZyLffoG-BvPZg5H6qWoAYNDqUJ-5vGya_DsF3wMaDlsC7ZKjwhkJBqt6C69xXP8sYP8fh_7y76rie8OTIhSrhRGEUkoXwzUX9PgWXyIZnimhAlGO9iYPr_SsFl-suHwGuIpfW8/s200/13147669_10209809046608728_6137257742944451953_o.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is your sis Layne and baby<br />
brother Jack getting dedicated in<br />
front of the congregation at our church.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After Mommy and Daddy spent all those months and years wishing and hoping and praying for another baby, just so we could see what it was like to have two babies to love and care for on this earth, you and God were working out the timeline to make sure your baby brother came at the perfect time, when Mommy and Daddy were emotionally and physically healed as much as we could possibly be from the grief and pain of losing you. Mommy and Daddy thank God everyday for that perfect timing. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9M5Qc_-7tk_hJubtVHn1mEPFiZcT5zHtEg9_ApvN4WR4yz5qAjaSj098GBP1kuVqU0qhUSZjq0WZnvcbEoUReEre-xarC3ioZeRvHVO8gYv9xeRIzQAC8W49bQXuZmYgGS8cJrNqAAnuU/s1600/13147664_10209809046528726_6565895184777408017_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9M5Qc_-7tk_hJubtVHn1mEPFiZcT5zHtEg9_ApvN4WR4yz5qAjaSj098GBP1kuVqU0qhUSZjq0WZnvcbEoUReEre-xarC3ioZeRvHVO8gYv9xeRIzQAC8W49bQXuZmYgGS8cJrNqAAnuU/s200/13147664_10209809046528726_6565895184777408017_o.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is our campus pastor and good family<br />
friend, Brad, sharing about our family.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So as Mommy thinks about Layne and Jack, and of you, Mommy knows deep down they've been dedicated far longer than three days that have passed. From you, Mommy and Daddy learned the most difficult lessons of faith and trust, peace and hope. We learned you were always a gift from God. Everyday single day we see Jack and Layne as the blessings they were intended to be. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Tell God we said "thanks" for entrusting us with his little children. Whether it's 16 months, five years, or a lifetime, Mommy and Daddy are so very grateful for the time we are given.</div>
<br />
Love you, miss you Baby Girl...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLu1SCv8QmCv7PesPOXUb14LObmBzoCibGOzh3dNlWTjXNGJ0Gj1zS1dK1L4729i0GfuodKV2566xoz5lCNb9NftwHxC0enD9NJXRIEkbyj077i1nb7dEK1HqGi_mI5kflonoJu8VHQ5V/s1600/38135_451139764852_5527398_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjLu1SCv8QmCv7PesPOXUb14LObmBzoCibGOzh3dNlWTjXNGJ0Gj1zS1dK1L4729i0GfuodKV2566xoz5lCNb9NftwHxC0enD9NJXRIEkbyj077i1nb7dEK1HqGi_mI5kflonoJu8VHQ5V/s320/38135_451139764852_5527398_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You are our angel in heaven, sweet Kaden Layne, and a <br />
reminder of where our focus should be. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-83609452243456219212016-04-11T18:44:00.001-07:002016-04-11T18:44:41.758-07:00Blessings RemindedHi Sweet Girl,<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPyLVi_VQ4FSxlBqgMS9LYCUkVSHvYLzkjARfQnHZzjVPfAcJU7d2vSsTBYmG0DkM2fk2kUr5HiNtoiarnU9TPaEj8281Q9WWD9QO0tNVEMlA1RXs0JgUq8CV5XEqS3n69JdSFAjGz9QvX/s1600/30215_1455075062733_3675779_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPyLVi_VQ4FSxlBqgMS9LYCUkVSHvYLzkjARfQnHZzjVPfAcJU7d2vSsTBYmG0DkM2fk2kUr5HiNtoiarnU9TPaEj8281Q9WWD9QO0tNVEMlA1RXs0JgUq8CV5XEqS3n69JdSFAjGz9QvX/s320/30215_1455075062733_3675779_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
Another month has come and gone. So much has happened in these last 30 days. Jack began walking and started talking more and more. While we still can't make out most of what he is saying, we're still pretty sure he's got "nana" and "nigh, nigh" under his belt. Since bananas are his most favorite of all (he can eat a whole one by himself) and snuggling with his soft blankie Grandma Trish gave him when he was first born right before bed, it's no wonder he knows those. Mommy remembers a sweet baby that was just like him. ;)<br />
<br />
This month has also been a reminder of another kind. A reminder of a lesson Mommy and Daddy once learned a little over five years ago.<br />
<br />
Each school night Mommy packs Layne's lunch and I'm reminded of how lucky I am to get to see your little sister learn and go to school with her friends. Mommy remembers a time when just the thought of you not having the chance to grow and play like all your little friends would break my heart. I would have given anything to see you grow up along with your little friends.<br />
<br />
Each afternoon Mommy looks around at the chaos and clutter that fills our kitchen and floors and I take a deep breath and remind myself just how lucky I am to hear the pitter-patter of two sets of little feet chase each other down the hall. Mommy remembers a time when our house seemed too quiet and way too clean, even for this OCD momma. I remember a time when I would have given anything to have a reason to do something for you.<br />
<br />
Every weekend it seems Mommy is stretching and twisting to help relax the muscles in my lower back - a little reminder of how lucky I am to get to hold your husky little sack-of-potatoes of a little brother. Mommy remembers a time when just seeing another mother hold her baby would make me so sad that I couldn't hold mine. I would have given anything to feel the weight of your warm little body resting on mine.<br />
<br />
This month has been a hard one. Not nearly as much for Mommy as it has been on a dear friend. Let's just say that Mommy and Daddy and lots of other mommies and daddies are reminded to appreciate the simple times we have with each other every day. These blessings that each day holds, even the small ones that don't get noticed as such, are more near and dear than we can imagine, especially when we no longer have them to share.<br />
<br />
Sweet Girl...say hello to my friend Mr. Buttercup. Let him know there are a lot of people down here who miss him so, so much already.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUvxWuIdq28KL-X9_o4X1UBanoxdHH7FQBO8BuCwCcWEraSd6nsPZP3LdXVeLy2ZVn-8iGBJkDJbUCuFCBr_2VtV4wTYmbYf4Owpqe88rqPxcvc0GI5TXWvCDDxnxTYlSRjrsxrNpbzD8/s1600/IMG_1927.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoUvxWuIdq28KL-X9_o4X1UBanoxdHH7FQBO8BuCwCcWEraSd6nsPZP3LdXVeLy2ZVn-8iGBJkDJbUCuFCBr_2VtV4wTYmbYf4Owpqe88rqPxcvc0GI5TXWvCDDxnxTYlSRjrsxrNpbzD8/s400/IMG_1927.JPG" width="400" /></a>Love you, miss you, and think of you always.<br />
<br />
Mommy<br />
<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-75171963003847206492016-03-11T08:22:00.000-08:002016-03-11T08:22:10.003-08:00February 28th<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTSN68ALoFxqCeiFP6KgVcukawM9bf6e90bRFiYTbFaqjB_ut_xw7GzykkE6X_Xl0nUXGjWteS5Jiug1lgszyQKDE6VAlcvs0O8QRbzPeoxB_q7OwYatGcqI7jqXOlnh_k8UhjOsijCXP/s1600/Black+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgTSN68ALoFxqCeiFP6KgVcukawM9bf6e90bRFiYTbFaqjB_ut_xw7GzykkE6X_Xl0nUXGjWteS5Jiug1lgszyQKDE6VAlcvs0O8QRbzPeoxB_q7OwYatGcqI7jqXOlnh_k8UhjOsijCXP/s400/Black+3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
February 28th is a date that Mommy will never forget. It was the day you were set to be due. I remember when Dr. Youkilis first mentioned this date. I recall thinking how nice it would be to have you a few weeks past Valentine's Day. Mommy didn't want you to ever have to share your special day with a holiday. I was always thinking toward the future.<br />
<br />
When you were born seventeen days early, Mommy and Daddy were both so surprised. To be quite honest, Mommy was a little disappointed. Not because I didn't want to see your sweet face, it was more so because your birthday would be just a few days before Valentine's Day. The moment I saw you all that went out the window. It was love at first sight seeing your tiny little features. Mommy no longer cared when you were born. I was just so happy to hold a healthy and perfect baby girl.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to your first birthday. Mommy found out real quickly that February 11th was the best birthday. Your day sat perfectly between Christmas and Daddy's birthday. It gave Mommy just enough time to recover from the rush of the holidays. It gave me the right amount of time to make your birthday party super special. Mommy would have never imagined this would be the only chance I would get to plan a special day for you.<br />
<br />
November 2010. It had been almost five months since you passed away. Life was completely different than the year before. It was just Mommy and Daddy. And that was really hard. <br />
<br />
That November, Mommy and Daddy saw that a new Disney movie had just come out. Mommy, being the kid at heart, loved Disney movies, so Daddy took me to see it. <br />
<br />
As Mommy and Daddy sat together watching the movie,we were surprised to see how similar this story was to ours. In the beginning, the mother and father were overjoyed by the birth of their first born, a daughter. Soon after being born, a terrible old woman kidnapped their baby, leaving them heartbroken and sad. As the movie progressed, we learned that the woman would raise their baby as her own, just to use the special power she possessed in her magic hair. We watched as the years went by and her parents continued to mourn over her, their lost child. It was like looking into our future.<br />
<br />
Luckily the whole movie wasn't all gloom and doom. There were many funny parts, and one thing was special. Each year on their daughter's birthday they would release a lantern into the sky. The entire kingdom would join with them and release hundreds more lanterns. And each year, the kidnapped young girl would watch and wonder. She would see these beautiful lights in the sky and have no idea that these lights were being lit for her. In the end, she would eventually be drawn to these lanterns and learn they were for her. Her parents would be reunited with her after many, many years apart. Like all Disney movies, all would live happily ever after.<br />
<br />
As Mommy and Daddy sat in the movie theater, surrounded by many moms and dads with their kids, we were taken aback by all the similarities. Mommy even got teary-eyed in a few parts. So much of this story reminded Mommy of you. At the end, Mommy left feeling quite disappointed that our story wouldn't end like theirs. In spite of that, Mommy loved this movie so very much.<br />
<br />
Fast forward to February 28th, just a few weeks ago. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon. One of the first nice days in weeks, Mommy, Daddy, Layne, and Jack decided to make the most of the beautiful day by grilling and sitting out on the deck. While we were out there, Layne, completely on her own, decided she wanted to celebrate you. She told Mommy she wanted to have a birthday celebration for you. One idea after another spouted out of her mouth. She was motivated. She was excited. She was on a little mission. She brought Barbies and toys, made decorations, and drew pictures. She walked around the deck picking up all the solar power lanterns by their handles. She placed them strategically on top of the posts and railings so they faced directly up toward the sky. After that, she "lit" them as she began to sing Happy Birthday to you in her four year-old voice.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhjUwXCoM7zU_VeMxVPF7WEC-gRB9v0m4RWIWtChPHovZf76tvulz4uAgsGItqEfc2s5B57yZjUA0Z9HvWUHq6HHCgZ6GjHZe7GnNgTBnv5qnjIuinBP8lD1sR_g1W8vwljK77q4MSoWRP/s1600/DSC_1930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhjUwXCoM7zU_VeMxVPF7WEC-gRB9v0m4RWIWtChPHovZf76tvulz4uAgsGItqEfc2s5B57yZjUA0Z9HvWUHq6HHCgZ6GjHZe7GnNgTBnv5qnjIuinBP8lD1sR_g1W8vwljK77q4MSoWRP/s320/DSC_1930.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Your little sis, Layne, playing on the back deck. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Watching her reminded me of that movie. Seeing how she loves you in such a pure and simple way was the best reminder that you're never lost. You're sweet spirit lives with us. We know right where you are, and one day we will experience the happily-ever-after we once thought we'd never have. <br />
<br />
Love and miss you sweet girl...<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEN1pHzc7BZsAk6v4niDuZ92b53kUMFEEuus76YAn4vYq_ycsVHIEeCZ1FeOYcRN-2Rvsjb59XhNEoWjrhCN8VAsKVdCnKe9lJUbbiupixic9L_mEo8hRUHHi0yEGf4gPFxOBN3sKowCuX/s1600/FacebookHomescreenImage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEN1pHzc7BZsAk6v4niDuZ92b53kUMFEEuus76YAn4vYq_ycsVHIEeCZ1FeOYcRN-2Rvsjb59XhNEoWjrhCN8VAsKVdCnKe9lJUbbiupixic9L_mEo8hRUHHi0yEGf4gPFxOBN3sKowCuX/s640/FacebookHomescreenImage.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You and Daddy, March 2010.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-61234259189033909492016-02-11T20:34:00.000-08:002016-02-11T20:34:52.460-08:00All That We Have<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCLgoLVnR3KVgt_Edyp4M78LHKsaj_x-x5QxiSt02P7mjckFyfleSAGe7h85pdYcxFnGonlbmwEnXV_oVoF6EWxAt9IwYjMxoGpIaj53vslB_AcyjqbZZkC05ZL7NxJ1MEklDjmP-aUeJp/s1600/17859_1334640811952_1000217_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCLgoLVnR3KVgt_Edyp4M78LHKsaj_x-x5QxiSt02P7mjckFyfleSAGe7h85pdYcxFnGonlbmwEnXV_oVoF6EWxAt9IwYjMxoGpIaj53vslB_AcyjqbZZkC05ZL7NxJ1MEklDjmP-aUeJp/s400/17859_1334640811952_1000217_n.jpg" width="296" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Celebrating you on your first birthday in 2010.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div>
Seven. Mommy can't even imagine what you would be like at seven. Seven years old is just too far from 16 months. When Mommy thinks of you, you're still the toddling little straight-haired girl you were all those years ago. Squeaky shoes and bitty bows, it's hard to imagine anything other than what Mommy knows. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEcp8QlssFtzu1vu6hCpHpCLerLbPRt2Z3kNep5GLLjNLSnfKrSKbRLkfxUJLKlVjB68sJ1lnWbp5LJ0S-Z9tCNDansE_DlIjdbxn6eyFrBCCw5yePW3Or6zC7m65km82J3YVGU8YsHk_/s1600/17859_1334640851953_4403590_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEcp8QlssFtzu1vu6hCpHpCLerLbPRt2Z3kNep5GLLjNLSnfKrSKbRLkfxUJLKlVjB68sJ1lnWbp5LJ0S-Z9tCNDansE_DlIjdbxn6eyFrBCCw5yePW3Or6zC7m65km82J3YVGU8YsHk_/s200/17859_1334640851953_4403590_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mommy made these special decorations for your party. <br />Now these little ladybug letters are in your scrapbook.</td></tr>
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Tonight Layne and I watched your video. We were in the parking lot of the gas station - the same one we once took you to. We were passing time as we were waiting on your Donna Ma to pick up your little sis, Layne, and baby bro, Jack, for an overnight visit. Seated close together in the front, Mommy was in the driver's seat and Layne was in the passenger's. Like at a movie theater, we were seated super close together. With the darkness of the night, the auxiliary cord plugged in, and the volume turned up, it looked and sounded like the best little movie theater. Even though the screen was tiny and our heads were practically touching, it didn't matter. Like a new release, neither of us could take our eyes off of you. </div>
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The video was your birthday video. It's the one Daddy made that first year we had to celebrate your birthday without you. The echo of your little voice traveling through the car speakers was so clear. It almost sounded like we were all there with you, or you with us. Even Jack, seated in his carseat in the back, reacted like it was all real. He responded to the pretty music and the sounds of familiar voices with sweet babbles and coos of his own. This is the video, the one we share each year on your birthday with all of our friends online, that Mommy loves most because Daddy filled it with our favorite clips with you.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpsakszuAEMGnB4zwjhj24fVPHM-FZJh4BC3CeX8Ay0v85VALmadLaHvSE0u3aermkEzGEp-7IMhUxAWqI5UlLDMnaOmynNfg5mXHuH-GmGzCmHz9h3zsrCDSNbNBLvQkNqUnkLe7AjGZP/s1600/30165_1461672187657_5261492_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpsakszuAEMGnB4zwjhj24fVPHM-FZJh4BC3CeX8Ay0v85VALmadLaHvSE0u3aermkEzGEp-7IMhUxAWqI5UlLDMnaOmynNfg5mXHuH-GmGzCmHz9h3zsrCDSNbNBLvQkNqUnkLe7AjGZP/s320/30165_1461672187657_5261492_n.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a picture Mommy hadn't come across before. <br />Mommy misses those squishy legs and your baby fine hair.</td></tr>
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It was halfway through when Mommy first took my eyes away from the screen. Mommy felt a smile draw up and a warm feeling started to grow inside Mommy's heart. I think it was in her eyes. Layne's attention was completely glued to your every move. A slight squint in the corners of her eyes showed she enjoyed this part of the video even more. It was of you and Daddy doing what she loves best -dancing. As your whispy hair flowed behind every move Daddy lead you through, your little sis would smile an even more precious smile. Between that and her ridiculously expressive eyebrows, I couldn't stop watching your little sister watching you. That sweet little smile stayed plastered on her face until the very end. </div>
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Tonight, when I was ready to cry, she continued to smile. When Mommy was ready to talk about how sad it was that you were there and we were here, she reminded me how lucky we were to have all these memories. Sometimes it's through the eyes of your four year old sister that Mommy learns to appreciate all that we have and all that we still are. </div>
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So thankful for the gift you were, and continue to be, for our little family my sweet Kaden Layne.</div>
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Happy 7th Birthday baby girl...</div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-88725948719320512472016-01-11T20:01:00.004-08:002016-01-11T20:10:29.032-08:00Bedtime Stories and Footed PajamasAs a first-time mom to you and like most first-time moms, Mommy fretted over every detail that revolved around you. I'm pretty sure I drove your daddy crazy! :) <br />
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A hair-bow that matched every outfit, clothes packed in your closet for every size you would need - not just for the first six months, we were prepared for your first two years! Ridiculous, Mommy knows! Did I mention the wooden hangers? Yep, Mommy was almost as excited about the super steal I got on matching wooden hangers from the GAP Outlet as I was on finding out you were a girl. Okay, that may be a bit of a stretch!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7cXTp7MOPz-C-QNkyM_dL78JzogxMgs9LdmA6lr_LLhYoBjbONiSRdFeNRhPQK-ewINSuI0l0VliQVItB6ruZfDi-k5zw-JX7S83msmEvyF1VvKAHyg1IEmhFf1YlJFEV5y8gRPEVOMA/s1600/1929731_1118823936665_7647348_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV7cXTp7MOPz-C-QNkyM_dL78JzogxMgs9LdmA6lr_LLhYoBjbONiSRdFeNRhPQK-ewINSuI0l0VliQVItB6ruZfDi-k5zw-JX7S83msmEvyF1VvKAHyg1IEmhFf1YlJFEV5y8gRPEVOMA/s320/1929731_1118823936665_7647348_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Mommy searched high and low for the prettiest Easter dress I could find. Of course, you had to have a matching bow. Daddy thought your dress was pretty ridiculous. We both had a good laugh when Daddy had to work around all those ruffles to change your diaper. </span></td></tr>
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Everything was always just right. Mommy made sure of it all the time. Anytime you stayed with your Donna Ma and Norm Pa overnight, Mommy made sure you had an outfit for every possibility. Mommy never knew when something fun might be on the agenda. And during your days with Daddy, Mommy and Daddy always made sure you had what you needed to be happy. Mommy and Daddy packed toys and jumpers and all kinds of gadgets for you to be entertained at Daddy's office. Mommy wanted you to be happy during those long hours working with Daddy! <br />
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Like most first-time mommas, Mommy was always prepared with a plan and a routine, too. Mommy read the books and googled the blogs. Milk times, snack times, nap times, play times, meal times, bath times, bedtimes. They were all planned out in advance. That's what good mommas do, right? Mommas have it all under control. That's what Mommy thought.<br />
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On July 10, 2010, Mommy learned a lot about control. Even when you do everything right, Mommy learned, we are not in control. Mommy learned that no matter how hard you work to prepare and prevent, that no matter how much you love and trust, no matter how many times you check and try, some times things of this life are just not in our control. They are not in anybody's control. Mommy has learned we just have to trust in God.<br />
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Mommy has decided that's why you and God worked together to pick out Jack. It's tough for Mommy to believe that Jack is already one. Boy has he rocked our world over the year! Everything Mommy and Daddy did with you and Layne as babies was thrown out the window when he came. For the first three months, the crying seemed to never stop. Sleep and milk routines, yeah right! Jack threw a wrench in every preconceived notion Mommy and Daddy had about parenting a newborn. When God gave us your little brother he knew exactly what he was doing!<br />
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Over the last year Mommy has learned to let go of so many things. Mommy has learned to live in the moment and savor the quality time. The idea that the perfect outfits for babies have to be coordinated, and the perfect way to raise them is with a master plan - Mommy has traded it in! Mommy's learned that trusting in God's plan is better than any plan I could ever master. Mommy's also learned that footed pajamas and quality time is way better than a perfectly clean house or meticulously organized diaper bag. It's footed pajamas that have packed some of Mommy's favorite memories - of you, of your little sister Layne, and now of Jack.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4r-0tHUCErSbQNi9-xSlYgP-lw2b44ZjTL1GISyQwejkLlksIEc5EDDtL0NllMfBnzUGSI9WAAK6s9ZSxuuvcUeUTfv6eVchRkf9VeII8511bFvnmYlr3IwaDY2KCY2r5MDO7R6kdBobI/s1600/1934616_1102566770246_7855088_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4r-0tHUCErSbQNi9-xSlYgP-lw2b44ZjTL1GISyQwejkLlksIEc5EDDtL0NllMfBnzUGSI9WAAK6s9ZSxuuvcUeUTfv6eVchRkf9VeII8511bFvnmYlr3IwaDY2KCY2r5MDO7R6kdBobI/s320/1934616_1102566770246_7855088_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">Pink newborn footed pajamas are what you wore home from the hospital on Valentine's Day 2009. We had to roll up your sleeves because they were so big.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTrf2JA6SjNcR6BrySsJd7fIY3OOnrgp4ET-MQE4THXMx6ULPRDIUUJ8854QRknKvLmT8gJUJzz6tYS9WFlVZ5_jl2ogBQblZEVmfnxF9luPkL9XU9_8DNYrkaYd-dm09R8qSdGV9Go2i/s1600/4830_1157878833013_8282654_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsTrf2JA6SjNcR6BrySsJd7fIY3OOnrgp4ET-MQE4THXMx6ULPRDIUUJ8854QRknKvLmT8gJUJzz6tYS9WFlVZ5_jl2ogBQblZEVmfnxF9luPkL9XU9_8DNYrkaYd-dm09R8qSdGV9Go2i/s320/4830_1157878833013_8282654_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">Your first drive-in movie date with Mommy and Daddy. You stayed cozy on that cool summer night watching the animated movie UP with your little friends Jacob and Lucas in the back of the car.</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjByT-cXv61aISQwPNGkNExHX-sH6i1ArWJeOQxKcddfvGnGpaf4QZtEoJrEb72XcV8L5X402ITfI-n42-lEF_XZS4PSgJmlnT8YbsIx2-7p4FilKhsE0lx8Rn0Ia1XqME-3P58GsZsnbdz/s1600/10391470_1211475092886_5385359_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjByT-cXv61aISQwPNGkNExHX-sH6i1ArWJeOQxKcddfvGnGpaf4QZtEoJrEb72XcV8L5X402ITfI-n42-lEF_XZS4PSgJmlnT8YbsIx2-7p4FilKhsE0lx8Rn0Ia1XqME-3P58GsZsnbdz/s320/10391470_1211475092886_5385359_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br class="Apple-interchange-newline" />
<span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">Playing toys with your cousin Cy. Mommy only wishes you could have spent more time with him. You were both so sweet to watch together. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCRsRCOpdcYUk-C0S24yXIU1mTOZk6kThJg9zBZmRWN9urh0NjMUcBVGZ-TEPlLQAQLe-ikC1TowUALP3CQWFxfCVQdPgyLdxwu3m38SLjxeAFEEbOyA_ckO7XwUbJPYNnf5eqbGpwrdk/s1600/10391802_1286478927935_7192133_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLCRsRCOpdcYUk-C0S24yXIU1mTOZk6kThJg9zBZmRWN9urh0NjMUcBVGZ-TEPlLQAQLe-ikC1TowUALP3CQWFxfCVQdPgyLdxwu3m38SLjxeAFEEbOyA_ckO7XwUbJPYNnf5eqbGpwrdk/s320/10391802_1286478927935_7192133_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">Visiting Santa for the first time. You even wore your cousin Cy's footed pajamas. A few years later your sister, Layne, would wear the same pair. We saved these same footed pajamas for your baby brother Jack, but he turned out to be a wee bit too big to wear them at Christmastime! We did have him wear them in October just for good times and to keep the tradition. </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB8OV0Xy6zFpltnPz9o53vDpGELOVZm69J9qQp8GI6nujwqrwWhgr5F8MNXCt-ZSRGnnrIj3O0Q3a0PoK4t-Q79uvDCehLpe4IM4JSRlE9UaeMRR1sGdxSwx_jyN0swFB5iXF8QwA15Ela/s1600/10391470_1211475732902_1563827_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB8OV0Xy6zFpltnPz9o53vDpGELOVZm69J9qQp8GI6nujwqrwWhgr5F8MNXCt-ZSRGnnrIj3O0Q3a0PoK4t-Q79uvDCehLpe4IM4JSRlE9UaeMRR1sGdxSwx_jyN0swFB5iXF8QwA15Ela/s320/10391470_1211475732902_1563827_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">Just being you! You always looked so sweet and felt so good in Mommy's arms when you were wearing your precious footed pajamas. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">So tonight, as I rocked Jack in the same glider I rocked you and your sis, and as I felt the weight of his warm little body packed snug against mine in his footed pajamas, we read the best little bedtime story and shared a tiny moment.</span><span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">These tiny moments with him remind me of those memories Mommy has of you. Sometimes, deep down, Mommy can still remember how warm it felt reading bedtime stories with you in your footed pajamas.</span><span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">Love you and miss you baby girl...</span></span></td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-44134804823390372832015-12-11T19:28:00.000-08:002015-12-12T19:28:24.361-08:00A Camera<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYNQhbcq_-Q4zFeEgV88vRb7KX-xhDU8Rcfoc9XujUMn2vvwrpCl6wJjdyBmMnXzjdarzD1hvbmdyaZD_PKKKgYwwUbNiI5Hbf5LUDBKhoqRfcxDOvqbDiomgNE2MvbJAjiQflGT6J0Fs/s1600/Kadens+First+Christmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYNQhbcq_-Q4zFeEgV88vRb7KX-xhDU8Rcfoc9XujUMn2vvwrpCl6wJjdyBmMnXzjdarzD1hvbmdyaZD_PKKKgYwwUbNiI5Hbf5LUDBKhoqRfcxDOvqbDiomgNE2MvbJAjiQflGT6J0Fs/s400/Kadens+First+Christmas.jpg" width="305" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas 2009 ~ You were 10 months old. </td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Mommy finally saw them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The two of them were running down the long corridor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank goodness they made it just in
time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A feeling of relief rushed over
Mommy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was passed to Daddy, and quick
hugs and a kiss were exchanged. Mommy was so glad to have it. Mommy never could
have imagined how important that moment would be, how precious of a gift it
would become.<o:p></o:p></div>
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That was the night Mommy went into labor with you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Three weeks early, Mommy was only partially
prepared.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our bags were packed, and we
had one of our own, but the difference this one would make would mean so
much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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A camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This camera
was the real deal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aunt Keshia had a
good one, much better than Mommy’s. It was like the professionals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was quick to shoot and easy to focus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The quality of the images was what Mommy was
most excited about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thank goodness your
Aunt Keshia and Grandma Trish made it in time for us to have a good
camera.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
As the doctor was performing Mommy’s c-section, Daddy was
prepared to take pictures of your grand entry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The camera dangled from Daddy’s neck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Mommy could tell he was a little nervous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think the anesthesiologist could too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s when she asked if we would like for
her to snap a few pictures for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Daddy
was quick to say yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mommy was glad he
would be able to watch you enter this world with his own eyes, instead of
through the lens of a camera.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The camera clicked away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The dark room with the large spot-light on the main attraction made for
the perfect pictures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mommy and Daddy
joked later on that we should have paid that sweet anesthesiologist photography
fees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s just how good the pictures
turned out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It certainly didn’t hurt
that we had a good camera.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Those pictures we have are so precious to us.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
Fast forward to last week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On Friday, December 4<sup>th</sup> your Aunt Keshia welcomed a baby boy,
Felix, into this world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was the
first baby she has had since Mommy became a mom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Mommy walked down the long corridor of the
hospital with Grandma Trish by my side, Mommy thought back to the night you
were born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That image of Aunt Keshia and
Grandma Trish rushing down the hall at the exact moment I was being whisked
away to surgery was so vivid in my memory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To think that a few seconds might have meant not capturing this moment,
Mommy’s so glad they made it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mommy is so thankful for the sweet memories.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s these memories Mommy holds close.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Love you, miss you, and think of you often baby girl.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zpt-1Tabg7riTd4HMyhkXtY72t9RFcFi7jzBsIiSTzxVBH_T8qIUiNzY7rhJPLZFhD8RTdPPrGtD-Yyrge13AQHvuL8TyToGxun75vJ101JF3rFJvMOCg5PTnVmJtJf7NLOGDuOPFmY3/s1600/12376463_10153834220969853_4274569107748588564_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zpt-1Tabg7riTd4HMyhkXtY72t9RFcFi7jzBsIiSTzxVBH_T8qIUiNzY7rhJPLZFhD8RTdPPrGtD-Yyrge13AQHvuL8TyToGxun75vJ101JF3rFJvMOCg5PTnVmJtJf7NLOGDuOPFmY3/s320/12376463_10153834220969853_4274569107748588564_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Meet your newest cousin, Felix. Isn't he the cutest little thing? :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-51565260505151380372015-11-11T19:08:00.003-08:002015-11-11T19:08:38.654-08:00The Five People<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitvL1wKcBTc-iKOC6n6X5OPKFQk00pe1oK3hrNulVBndQ2-d3CLSTmx5JEkw8kJ1_sVkhhyczGRrrTXB8a_K_9eshI3ZAuOp3vLAAEzNnoIChms-sDj7XHIjWCJ2kHFlzV8Rxv_pa1kguv/s1600/kaden.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitvL1wKcBTc-iKOC6n6X5OPKFQk00pe1oK3hrNulVBndQ2-d3CLSTmx5JEkw8kJ1_sVkhhyczGRrrTXB8a_K_9eshI3ZAuOp3vLAAEzNnoIChms-sDj7XHIjWCJ2kHFlzV8Rxv_pa1kguv/s400/kaden.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
Many years before you were born Mommy read the book <i>The Five People You Meet in Heaven</i>. The big lesson Mommy got from the book was, while you may not realize it at the time, people are placed in your life at certain times and for certain purposes. It's not until you get to Heaven that you discover the true purpose. Events that may have seemed insignificant at the time, can sometimes have big effects on us later on. For someone who doesn't read books often (outside the realm of my second grade classroom :), this book was one Mommy couldn't put down.<br />
<br />
August of 2003 is when Mommy and her started working together. We were both graduate assistants in the College of Education at EKU. We worked together everyday, just about. Our favorite part of our day was eating lunch at Powell. That's where we had some of our best conversations. That's when we talked about things that really mattered. That's where she shared about her mom. <br />
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Several years before we had met she had lost her mom to breast cancer. It was easy to see how much she missed her mom and how not having her mom deeply impacted her ability to experience complete joy in life's biggest events - her wedding, graduation, first job- and the small things too. Watching and listening, she reminded me how precious and irreplaceable the mother-daughter relationship is.<br />
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She also talked about God. She talked about her faith. She talked about Heaven. We prayed together and became very close friends. Three years later Mommy asked her to be a bridesmaid in Mommy and Daddy's wedding.<br />
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Fast forward...<br />
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July of 2009 is when Mommy first met her. Mommy had started a new teaching position in kindergarten. She was several years older and her children were older too. One a teenager, the other in middle school. Mommy and her hit it off right away. <br />
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It happened just a week before school was to begin. Her son and his close friend had been involved in an accident. Her son turned out to be ok, but his best friend had passed away. This tragic event devastated so many people, especially her son. <br />
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That year was tough for her. Many Thursdays we spent working late on the next week's plans. During these late nights we would talk about things -our kids, our pasts, our families, the tragedy. Mommy did a lot of talking (imagine that :) and even more listening. That year we got to know each other very well. <br />
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We were both new to kindergarten so we worked closely together every day. Our classrooms were even joined together, our desks just a few feet away. She loved teaching and she loved having you visit our classrooms. You had a way of livening up our days.<br />
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The next summer tragedy struck Mommy's life. That's when you passed away. The whole next year she did the listening and often lent Mommy a shoulder to cry on. Her, along with Mommy's teaching assistant, provided the strength, encouragement, and laughter Mommy needed to get through the day to day.<br />
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As time moved forward, so did Mommy's teaching partner. The next summer Mommy found herself working with a new partner. Fresh from Fayette County and with several years of kindergarten teaching experience under her belt, Mommy was happy to be able to learn from someone new. It was also exciting for Mommy since this new partner also had a baby about the same age as Layne. Having this new friend with so much in common was just what Mommy needed.<br />
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Over the next two years Mommy and this new friend got to know one another really well. Even Layne and her son had become good buddies too. Dates to Chickfila turned into invites to birthday parties and after school playdates at the park. As time went on we became each other's rock when strength was what we needed. She listened when Mommy wanted to talk about you, and I listened when she wanted to talk about things private to her.<br />
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Just when Mommy's life was beginning to look up, and as we were about to start exciting new jobs together at a brand new school, the most devastating news imaginable was given to her family. Her husband, just 34, was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. Surgeries, chemo, tests, scans. Grief, sadness, lost hope, overwhelming anxiety. Over the past two years Mommy has walked alongside her. To talk, to listen, to just be a friend who understands a little about grief.<br />
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Just a few weeks ago she was given the unbelievable news that her husband has<br />
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just three to six months to live. Last weekend her husband was baptized. <br />
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As Mommy thinks about that book...Mommy thinks about people like Sarah and Debbie and Jessica. Mommy thinks about my life path and the paths of all those others who just so happened to collide with mine. Coincidence? I think not. God must have known how much we would need one another at different points. <br />
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And that's just three. Mommy wonders about those I have yet to meet. Perhaps it will all make sense one day when we meet in Heaven.<br />
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Until then...love you, miss you, think of you every single day sweet Kaden Layne...<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-27686792830340566572015-10-11T18:49:00.003-07:002015-10-11T18:49:50.492-07:00Empty Spot<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO95ls7KQX7CuX37YjgmdpaPQEezr2O5cjGZe2BxBgglsWfcQO3aayfhLbnSSvtxRhtWJjB4mv_SAHXZafybSrMDaRrn8kSo1VqL1bb0p_EoRqpQjOUyC8SLZZped7xqxh-6fbK31DGmWA/s1600/Outer+Banks+2010+037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO95ls7KQX7CuX37YjgmdpaPQEezr2O5cjGZe2BxBgglsWfcQO3aayfhLbnSSvtxRhtWJjB4mv_SAHXZafybSrMDaRrn8kSo1VqL1bb0p_EoRqpQjOUyC8SLZZped7xqxh-6fbK31DGmWA/s320/Outer+Banks+2010+037.jpg" width="320" /></a>Hi Sweet Girl...<br />
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It's hard to fathom another month has passed. The days seem to go by in a blink of an eye. Jack is crawling and in to everything these days, and Layne can't seem to find a moment to play without him trying to grab everything in sight. While it frustrates her to no end, Mommy and Daddy are secretly enjoying their little squabbles. We've waited so long to finally get to experience the joys and trials siblings bring to a family.<br />
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One thing your sister, Layne, really enjoys to do with Jack is swing. She loves to swing him in the little red baby swing we have hanging out back. <br />
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Mommy thinks back to when we first got that little baby swing back when you were so small. Inspired by Papaw's swing in our big favorite tree, Mommy picked this one up at a yard sale when you were about six months old. Daddy hung it under the deck right by the steps. It was a perfect spot since the decking was so high. As you grew older, you could swing so big. Mommy remembers the certain creaky sound it made as it moved back and forth through the air. Swinging made you so happy and your smile would be as big as your face! :)<br />
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Mommy remembers back to the day after you passed away. Coming home with Daddy to our quiet house on that July day, Mommy remembers going outside to the deck to have some time by myself. Sitting there in the quiet thinking of you, Mommy heard the light creaky sound of your empty swing beneath me being pushed around by the wind. The thought of your swing was too much for Mommy to bear. All Mommy could do is sob as I thought of how desolate life would be without you. <br />
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Just like a lot of your other things, Mommy and Daddy put your swing away.<br />
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The next summer, several months after your little sister was born, Daddy got out your old swing and added some fresh red paint and hung it beneath a new part of our deck. We would swing Layne just like we did you. And just like you, she would smile the biggest smile.<br />
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As time has passed your little sis has grown too heavy for your little swing. Layne's legs stretch down to the bushes that line the patio beneath. While your little swing is still the perfect size for Jack, Daddy knew it was time to build something new.<br />
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And build he did! On top of the hill, behind your special garden, Daddy spent all week digging holes, measuring posts, mixing concrete, and ordering parts. Daddy stayed up late measuring and putting together the hardware for the swings and trapeze. He even woke up extra early on Friday to hang everything just right. On Friday afternoon, Daddy surprised Layne (and Jack, too) with their new swing!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFaSoE3C46ceILdQJ19MYdCKuVv1Q_h2o756okzQJGlsrZhyphenhyphenSvXjedq7hf78hN8sR7Sd_A4ify-DV_J1NpQm9wS8EBIrG0H_m7NObccFOa5PpOEKUQv42eV2CP_Pi3_yczifRMFm7jpuh/s1600/Message_1444406191162.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxFaSoE3C46ceILdQJ19MYdCKuVv1Q_h2o756okzQJGlsrZhyphenhyphenSvXjedq7hf78hN8sR7Sd_A4ify-DV_J1NpQm9wS8EBIrG0H_m7NObccFOa5PpOEKUQv42eV2CP_Pi3_yczifRMFm7jpuh/s400/Message_1444406191162.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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With the sweetest look of excitement, Layne ran across the yard, climbed into the center swing, and began to pump her legs back and forth as Daddy pushed. Mommy put Jack in the baby swing next to her. It was in that moment that Layne, with pure elation in her voice, made her innocent observation. "Daddy," she said. "There's a spot here for me, Jack, and Kaden!"<br />
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Mommy and Daddy just looked at one another and smiled a despondent smile.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwz6ESU1PCTQ3p0_lkqmXYMTYRcs65EcBg-IFh66yO9Av9fBvsqX8Dc-9NmzxnXZcCsWJAILOd_koBiJHR1gTSNt0KQ80E3wGPLaz8NW-obxB9tyhtsX6ttdTWi6fdz3sr70sx3gAL_6Y/s1600/DSC_1698.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghwz6ESU1PCTQ3p0_lkqmXYMTYRcs65EcBg-IFh66yO9Av9fBvsqX8Dc-9NmzxnXZcCsWJAILOd_koBiJHR1gTSNt0KQ80E3wGPLaz8NW-obxB9tyhtsX6ttdTWi6fdz3sr70sx3gAL_6Y/s200/DSC_1698.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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We sure wish you were here, Sweet Girl, to take pleasure in that empty spot on the swing set.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxnlagx79DMEgs5NB_OtwQ2g5klNqSspPqmbs7vuZmyh68AtBZnq5iLL4HGViQbQzSXBz25TudnJeULEmfq6ggHlYeLBMlP8XhohqXUM61j7L0BZJbfeIXe-OjIFKAj1joEHKnMRo8I8k/s1600/IMG_1117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIxnlagx79DMEgs5NB_OtwQ2g5klNqSspPqmbs7vuZmyh68AtBZnq5iLL4HGViQbQzSXBz25TudnJeULEmfq6ggHlYeLBMlP8XhohqXUM61j7L0BZJbfeIXe-OjIFKAj1joEHKnMRo8I8k/s200/IMG_1117.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZfNiFU3LS-FH-E9j6KMds-sYC1bSoNct3DxziSvXnGsBeSrj_W0ElyXgzGrmwRLkaAgdiL2XLrF7zYWiKvcc3zqbfcfVlqYk0ClgoGt3Q-im9r1Pi0z7CT4Dnp0Akm5824YKvYwzxLei/s1600/Outer+Banks+2010+024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBZfNiFU3LS-FH-E9j6KMds-sYC1bSoNct3DxziSvXnGsBeSrj_W0ElyXgzGrmwRLkaAgdiL2XLrF7zYWiKvcc3zqbfcfVlqYk0ClgoGt3Q-im9r1Pi0z7CT4Dnp0Akm5824YKvYwzxLei/s400/Outer+Banks+2010+024.jpg" title="" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You and Mommy</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiDCWE_RZV-AGQNS7K3S02K18j9yUP-dS0chSOx1OajRZbwGalxEDzLbHRpaA3vfVaqUAhdk7NihXz2CfWLVav2PDq68f6G3rSMVpCc06JXP0ObIPX7oIcGbLwTr37xzdb7-zrQB-nVK9/s1600/Outer+Banks+2010+034.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuiDCWE_RZV-AGQNS7K3S02K18j9yUP-dS0chSOx1OajRZbwGalxEDzLbHRpaA3vfVaqUAhdk7NihXz2CfWLVav2PDq68f6G3rSMVpCc06JXP0ObIPX7oIcGbLwTr37xzdb7-zrQB-nVK9/s400/Outer+Banks+2010+034.jpg" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You and Daddy</td></tr>
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<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk9Ham_6vNAa3-bM2ia9ka30s1RMN2DnLIj9QMZ6_2oZmEIrEiEqlcVnoP-OdnlSUljng5M4bc5RsLekk0c1yOMcwH2RdxwGQdIM8OW6O_x9XURHDM6ZDU9t1xb-MC0blHKzoaLNCURKrx/s1600/Outer+Banks+2010+039.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk9Ham_6vNAa3-bM2ia9ka30s1RMN2DnLIj9QMZ6_2oZmEIrEiEqlcVnoP-OdnlSUljng5M4bc5RsLekk0c1yOMcwH2RdxwGQdIM8OW6O_x9XURHDM6ZDU9t1xb-MC0blHKzoaLNCURKrx/s400/Outer+Banks+2010+039.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkkKtR94QWD_wDC0DM25wnOmxTNTF7eW1LZshR_xxLvNDws_h20qaMt70FUUJqcMbAopzmGki8b0BINgbSOMNAXSXfH8ep6c4bHdpjH0RE-crLUm2syU_SsKadLSVrROj2vDnEu5MVZlJY/s1600/Outer+Banks+2010+040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkkKtR94QWD_wDC0DM25wnOmxTNTF7eW1LZshR_xxLvNDws_h20qaMt70FUUJqcMbAopzmGki8b0BINgbSOMNAXSXfH8ep6c4bHdpjH0RE-crLUm2syU_SsKadLSVrROj2vDnEu5MVZlJY/s400/Outer+Banks+2010+040.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-1777601969626596822015-09-11T02:30:00.000-07:002015-09-13T04:33:18.754-07:00Brave<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Mommy picked up the frame and wiped the dust from the edges. My heart began to race. Mommy said a little prayer under my breath. <i>God, please let me have courage.</i>.. <i>Please don't let me cry.</i> As Mommy walked through the crowd to my chair, Mommy felt excited. Then nervous. Then sad. Then worried. <i>What if this becomes more than what I want it to? What if they have questions? Will I have all the right answers? What if the others get upset that they weren't included? </i>So many worries spun around inside Mommy's head in that moment.</div>
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Mommy sat down in the little green chair. I wiped more dust off the glass and turned the frame around.</div>
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A few weeks earlier school had come back into session. As always, Mommy was excited and nervous about beginning another year with a new group of students. Back when you first passed away Mommy found solace in work. It was the one thing that was constant amongst all the chaos all around. It was the one thing Mommy could control back when so much of life felt out of control. </div>
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Teaching was my identity before Mommy became a mom. Hours were spent planning, preparing, loving, and caring on my kiddos at school. When Mommy was pregnant with you Mommy loved sharing my experiences with my class of second graders. Each week a different student would help measure to see how much bigger around my belly had grown. We kept a belly chart posted on the wall. They made the journey toward motherhood that much more exciting!</div>
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The night you decided to start your journey into this world Mommy stayed well past six getting Valentine's Day activities ready for the next day's centers. Excited. Nervous. Sad. It seemed like this was the cycle of emotions Mommy felt throughout the night you came. As Mommy's students entered the classroom the next day they were greeted with a sub and a giant banner that read "Welcome Baby Harris"! Surprised was the main reaction. You weren't suppose to come that soon. Mommy wasn't supposed to be gone that soon either.</div>
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The transition from teacher to full-time mom was more difficult than Mommy had anticipated. Mommy missed the daily conversations and hugs I would get from my students. Mommy missed the fast-paced schedule and predictable routine. In the beginning for a short time, Mommy even had bouts of the post-pardum blues. I look back and wonder how much of it had to do with leaving a group of students Mommy loved so much.</div>
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As time went on Mommy's students from that year grew to love their substitute teacher. I grew to love you more than Mommy ever knew I could love something. It became clear as the school year came to an end that Mommy would be better off working at a school closer to home. That way, I could be closer to you. That's when Mommy took a job in Kindergarten.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeQ6W7xDuvGxIRKZsaaTIyR1h2efKDMFTJ4MkjX295Vf7Gqn5XXgCSuZ-pYiqNNkvN6yxjecEK6K0m1W2yJdipqMUWLez-gX2TBaM1ZzaN0DmaFk_UHjHE6vDm_q-c2Ix5IC75_z2wlrS/s1600/Kaden%2527s+Tree+of+Life+and+Love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXeQ6W7xDuvGxIRKZsaaTIyR1h2efKDMFTJ4MkjX295Vf7Gqn5XXgCSuZ-pYiqNNkvN6yxjecEK6K0m1W2yJdipqMUWLez-gX2TBaM1ZzaN0DmaFk_UHjHE6vDm_q-c2Ix5IC75_z2wlrS/s320/Kaden%2527s+Tree+of+Life+and+Love.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">Here is the artwork students from Model Laboratory School created in your memory. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> Next to it is a placard with your picture and these words: "Experiencing life, love, and loss with their teacher." </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">It hangs by the indoor garden near Mommy's old room. </span></div>
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Kindergarten. </div>
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As the weeks in Kindergarten turned into months, Mommy found so many teachable moments that involved you. Stories and songs, books and puppets were all first tried on you at home. My new students at my new school loved hearing about you more than anything else. They asked about you all the time. And having a classroom assistant who was like a grandma to you made Mommy's new school a perfect fit! </div>
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It was a little over three weeks after you passed away that Mommy was due to return to work. Many people wondered if Mommy would take some time off. <i>Time off to do what?</i> I wondered. Without you at home Mommy felt lost. Mommy's identity as a mother was suddenly take away. I didn't know who I was. The only thing in life that was familiar at the time was teaching. And teaching is where Mommy would escape.</div>
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When school went back into session that year Mommy added two new pictures to the wall behind my desk. Collages of you that your Aunt Keshia had made for your funeral. In the beginning Mommy would just stare at the memories that were captured in that frame. Sometimes I would cry. By the end of the year Mommy was able to smile.</div>
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Occasionally there would be a kindergartener notice the frame. They would comment with things like <i>That's a cute baby </i>or <i>She's a pretty little girl. </i>When your sister Layne came along many of Mommy's kindergarteners would look at the pictures and assume the little girl with the bow in her hair was her. Anytime one would ask, Mommy's assistant was quick to intervene just so Mommy didn't have to have the conversation. Whatever she said to them must have been just right. She always had a way with talking to kids. </div>
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Mommy would avoid conversations about family with my kindergarten students. If any of them asked, Mommy would focus on Layne and our cats, Frank and Sammy. It wasn't that Mommy didn't want to include you, it was just that Mommy wasn't prepared to answer questions they might have. Mommy worried about making them worried. Not knowing what it was that took you from us, made it even harder. Would four and five year olds understand?</div>
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So when Mommy moved back to teaching second graders, keeping your story private seemed much easier than having that conversation. For two years Mommy did just that. Mommy kept your picture on the windowsill behind my desk. When any student would look at it and comment how cute "Layne" was, Mommy would smile and think of you. </div>
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All that changed a few weeks ago. As my new second graders spent the week bringing in pictures and telling about their families, Mommy realized it might be time. </div>
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So as Mommy sat down in that little green chair and as 26 pairs of eyes were glued on me with my picture of you in one hand and Jack's birth announcement in the other, Mommy got brave. </div>
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"Many of you look at this picture.... Many of you look at it and see Mr. Harris and me and this little girl. Many of you see this little girl and say ' Awe, isn't Layne so cute?'"<i> </i></div>
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Mommy smiled and took a breath. The kids in the middle of the rug smiled back and shook their head. The whole class was still and quiet.</div>
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"Well, let me tell you about this little girl in this picture." Mommy's voice was calm. The words came to mind much easier than I expected.</div>
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"The little girl in this picture," Mommy said slowly, "Her name is Kaden - Kaden Layne. This is my little girl." Mommy said. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpf37jcWFMkgMR4OuEApMQYtIBQIKvvUjQd5gjxEjIvVBLjuVgcmCNp6xxUt45KSkRjVfvivE45trkgMIxdpmnfTtdAlhAosPjMVpvinjMhKfhnsQM53kj8kWLEL5vuUUntl3TmXvENovS/s1600/Outer+Banks+2010+290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpf37jcWFMkgMR4OuEApMQYtIBQIKvvUjQd5gjxEjIvVBLjuVgcmCNp6xxUt45KSkRjVfvivE45trkgMIxdpmnfTtdAlhAosPjMVpvinjMhKfhnsQM53kj8kWLEL5vuUUntl3TmXvENovS/s320/Outer+Banks+2010+290.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">This is our last family photo with you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">It was the end of our vacation at the Outer Banks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">We sure had fun making memories that week. </span></div>
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It felt so good to say your name. Like a good secret bottled up, it was a relief to share you with them. I went on. </div>
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"She passed away in her sleep when she was 16 months and we aren't really sure why."</div>
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Mommy and my students went on to talk about you and about how some families look a little different from others.</div>
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"She's a part of my family." I went on to say. "I haven't had the courage to talk about her with a group of students until now." </div>
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To Mommy's surprise, this group of students responded with the utmost compassion and concern. Instead of asking questions that Mommy wasn't prepared to answer, many of them responded with sweet comments and expressions of love. Being free to remember you openly felt so good. Being able to talk about you helped Mommy revive your memory. I love that most!</div>
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Next year my class of second graders will be the class you would have been part of. I can already foresee Mommy standing back as the girls play at recess and wondering who it is you would have been friends with. For now, Mommy's going to use this year and this group of students to help me prepare. </div>
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Love you Sweet Girl...</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZoKelSzzwpnl2ewEFndlNjkR4QEYDgUXFePRiXWEZwCiNIJ86hXXC8HhoWsIBj04N5t8J4defxGcC43MKjXHUgE6wb7N9xGt9nbJrhBz7q-3fzMpTB7BqYsetBI5k9PywWSBPJ6DM-za/s1600/October+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZoKelSzzwpnl2ewEFndlNjkR4QEYDgUXFePRiXWEZwCiNIJ86hXXC8HhoWsIBj04N5t8J4defxGcC43MKjXHUgE6wb7N9xGt9nbJrhBz7q-3fzMpTB7BqYsetBI5k9PywWSBPJ6DM-za/s320/October+006.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">This was you at 8 months. It's neat to see how much Jack looks like you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">He loves to smile a wide-open smile like you did. </span></div>
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Here's a little flashback. Jack looks just like you at 8 months. :)</div>
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<a href="https://youtu.be/-WVlBXb1bQk">https://youtu.be/-WVlBXb1bQk</a></div>
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Here's another with your Harris Hopper's class t-shirt. :)</div>
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFgRuaA77j8&feature=youtu.be">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFgRuaA77j8&feature=youtu.be</a></div>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-44083861150995225742015-08-11T19:17:00.001-07:002015-08-11T19:17:10.716-07:00The ClubSweet Girl...<br />
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When Mommy was young I remember wanting to be a girl scout so bad. I can recall the first time I learned about them. It was a friend I met at my new school in fifth grade. Mommy was trying to find my place in the new group of people. There was something about being part of a club that seemed so neat to me. At ten years-old, it was probably the cute uniform with all the patches that appealed so much to me. Unfortunately joining the girl scouts didn't really fit into my family's schedule or budget. And Mommy was okay with that. :)<br />
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Later on, when I started high school, Mommy made it a point to be part of as many clubs as I could. From Key Club to Beta Club, Mommy loved the chance to be part of a group. I loved the way each club had its own focus and opportunities for service. Most of them cost little to nothing to be part of and left Mommy's schedule over-the-top full. Clubs were just Mommy's thing.<br />
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When Mommy went off to college the same was true. Mommy joined a sorority and was part of the Panhellenic Council and Student Government. It was through these groups that Mommy met some of my best friends. The people I had the privilege of working with taught me so much about drive and determination. They were often the models of service too.<br />
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Mommy loved the idea of being part of the club.<br />
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In July of 2010, Mommy found herself part of one club no mother, daughter, sister or friend ever wants to be a part of. <br />
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Club Grief. <br />
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In the days, weeks, and months after you passed, Mommy met and learned about so many other mothers who unexpectedly lost a child. Several reached out to Mommy to share their story. Many gave Mommy books or cards offering encouragement and support. They became like mentors. Some Mommy met at your visitation. Others were complete strangers. Strangers or not, we shared one thing in common. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdyqwyjS23tvNFM16GXPxY0mCUTQy8Me79DJBu3ghEt23zmIXowUWUqg_mDGNH8-JnzIfGHf9L-G4PBoaPk_wk8MyTgnKnhRqK2XKjxiu2lbvWbh1Q6yq2bWmRKem1Ri6sHgKG3XDR3IA/s1600/Angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjdyqwyjS23tvNFM16GXPxY0mCUTQy8Me79DJBu3ghEt23zmIXowUWUqg_mDGNH8-JnzIfGHf9L-G4PBoaPk_wk8MyTgnKnhRqK2XKjxiu2lbvWbh1Q6yq2bWmRKem1Ri6sHgKG3XDR3IA/s320/Angel.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
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Being a part of this club helped Mommy know that the feelings I experienced were completely normal. Someone understood the emptiness and the bizarre feelings that were often associated with everyday, simple routines and tasks. Even my closest friends, whom I had known for years, couldn't understand the roller coaster of emotions grief brings like those who shared this common bond. <br />
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It's kind of ironic. This club Mommy was once thankful to have, is one Mommy has grown to despise and hate so very much in recent years. Why, you might wonder? The club has grown larger in number. From car wrecks to SIDS, miscarriages and random accidents, there have been too many. Mommy's heart hurts so much for these mothers experiencing these fresh wounds. Each time Mommy learns of another member, I can't help but feel the need to reach out. <br />
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And it's not just the mothers. It's the friends whose husbands are battling cancer and whose lives have been flipped upside down. It's the daughters who have lost their own mothers and are trying to navigate this life without the support and encouragement they so desperately need. It's the family who's faced with divorce and having to find a new normal. When Mommy looks around I see so many hurting, grieving people.<br />
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The Club. It's not always easy. It's hard to find the right words when greeting the new members. There's no badge of honor worn on our lapels. Instead, there is a heavy weight that rests upon our shoulders. It's hard to get through the days and it's often difficult to think beyond the loss. Members may not wear uniforms, but in our eyes you can see. <br />
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Grief is hard. Mommy thinks about all those people experiencing it now. Mommy's prayer is simple...<br />
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God, please bring peace and comfort to the broken hearted...<br />
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Love you and miss you sweet girl!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0VUR-9j1HC_XA1Aawa9UdCg7ldIqjHlQa_s89rsNaoFiyLxDbW9LSwSPvfDD9iom_a63I83SGVTyMH0daUxIwnD1Ao1D3KO1ybW55KDS2gvz9SEwyVwQWEcVKI-_bTrDzIvhcbzsGa9sU/s1600/August.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0VUR-9j1HC_XA1Aawa9UdCg7ldIqjHlQa_s89rsNaoFiyLxDbW9LSwSPvfDD9iom_a63I83SGVTyMH0daUxIwnD1Ao1D3KO1ybW55KDS2gvz9SEwyVwQWEcVKI-_bTrDzIvhcbzsGa9sU/s320/August.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You at 6 Months</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjr6C0AoLFUm8BiFUFg8lN3DxJgtUspejYx9XuCrjfzZZGwPDLBt1CpF1Td8UTo2q8gRrMCG8PDweaL4i8FRvrxHToWYE3N-ipqpSOiqdThlNAUtqFJ7vIwe8H6IQ13a0fPUsOaVM3FLV/s1600/DSC_1726.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKjr6C0AoLFUm8BiFUFg8lN3DxJgtUspejYx9XuCrjfzZZGwPDLBt1CpF1Td8UTo2q8gRrMCG8PDweaL4i8FRvrxHToWYE3N-ipqpSOiqdThlNAUtqFJ7vIwe8H6IQ13a0fPUsOaVM3FLV/s320/DSC_1726.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jack at 7 Months</td></tr>
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675142874476644757.post-19581659106830788902015-07-11T21:50:00.002-07:002015-07-11T21:53:28.383-07:00Once Upon a Dream<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS2z6ke_KwY0myk0HW5HOi73hidetxrZh_qA5b9VRxdSt6phJKT7KVfHKDenoqe9KjcSOpYWr_I3zW0rvfjSK1J-Urt3OlEilYrlnciYLH_dzX_3OuKHBgYgMI-4sM_3Upwci_zG62yW9I/s1600/October+2009+049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS2z6ke_KwY0myk0HW5HOi73hidetxrZh_qA5b9VRxdSt6phJKT7KVfHKDenoqe9KjcSOpYWr_I3zW0rvfjSK1J-Urt3OlEilYrlnciYLH_dzX_3OuKHBgYgMI-4sM_3Upwci_zG62yW9I/s640/October+2009+049.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You at 5 months old. You're about Jack's age here.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Hi Baby Girl...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">One of the things your little sister Layne loves to do more than anything is dance. Each day she'll ask for Daddy or Mommy to put on music. She'll waltz in the living room dressed in a princess costume wearing her ballet shoes. If we are lucky we can sit back and watch. But most of the time she insists one of us dance with her. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvx8cRANeVxTtUQRdrk8pEssXBXRwo458pBYo-6wHY8JzeH9bMskPOb4gjL6gk6lmfxNp0Z4rBwewW_cvE9Ke1b8dmVs9iK9rFg75G7Y1I2fZ50StPSEZt3coC9uOlSPTnAk_dr9fr-PE/s1600/IMG_2489.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvx8cRANeVxTtUQRdrk8pEssXBXRwo458pBYo-6wHY8JzeH9bMskPOb4gjL6gk6lmfxNp0Z4rBwewW_cvE9Ke1b8dmVs9iK9rFg75G7Y1I2fZ50StPSEZt3coC9uOlSPTnAk_dr9fr-PE/s200/IMG_2489.jpg" width="150" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> Layne dancing around the living room.</span></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">This summer has been especially rainy. In our house rainy days mean movie days! Layne and Mommy love theses kinds of days. We often veg out on the living room floor watching Disney classics. We've probably watched Frozen a hundred times. Even Jack has been known to pay attention a time or two as well. Movie days are definitely lazy days for us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Just a few weeks ago Mommy put on the movie <i>Sleeping Beauty</i>. Layne had seen it a few times before but this was one of the first times for Mommy. As we watched, Mommy really began to enjoy the pretty singing voice of Princess Aurora. One of Mommy's favorite songs from the movie was <i>Once Upon a Dream. </i>As the song began to play Layne stood with her arms stretched out toward me. "Let's dance, momma!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">How could I resist? Holding Layne's hands, we did our own version of the waltz around the living room as we listened to the words...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">I</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"> know you, I walked with you once upon a dream</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">Yet I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">But if I know you, I know what you'll do</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream </div>
</span></span><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">But if I know you, I know what you do</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">You love me at once </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
The way you did once upon a dream </div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"></span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">I know you, the gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;">
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem</div>
</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; line-height: 22px;"><div style="text-align: center;">
But if I know you, I know what you'll do</div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">You'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">It's been a few weeks since Mommy and Layne first danced to this song. Ever since, Mommy cannot seem to shake it from my memory. I find myself singing it all the time. Each time I find myself thinking of you. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWzTF86M1t8KNlIJeq0gcwWYMN5osJ7Ce7sF39yug-Mu3PX3Y0l17OVFl3P-tX5qZxtMP5_O9ALdOYlKaVdbh1PZxcKcA3dPuxrrTrbKzWSAPKpaJRwTKR1mmd0vcpTGQ8QUK44TVHPpaC/s1600/Fourth+of+July+Weekend+017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times; line-height: normal; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWzTF86M1t8KNlIJeq0gcwWYMN5osJ7Ce7sF39yug-Mu3PX3Y0l17OVFl3P-tX5qZxtMP5_O9ALdOYlKaVdbh1PZxcKcA3dPuxrrTrbKzWSAPKpaJRwTKR1mmd0vcpTGQ8QUK44TVHPpaC/s320/Fourth+of+July+Weekend+017.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">You just a week before you passed away.</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterday marks five years since Mommy and Daddy last had you here with us. The first few days after you passed were filled with tremendous shock and sadness. Soon after, Mommy remembers feeling so desperate to know what it felt like to be with you again. Mommy's prayers became requests to God to let me see you again, at least in my dreams. It was probably two or three weeks after your funeral when Mommy finally dreamed of you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Mommy remembers being on a beach, kind of like the one we last vacationed at in the Outer Banks. Mommy remembers seeing you and me running toward one another and then hugging the biggest hug. It was a lot like the scenes from one of those sappy love movies. It was strange because I was able to watch both of us, as if I was a bystander. Mommy wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean. It didn't matter. It felts so good to dream about you and me together. Even though it didn't last long, it was just enough to leave mommy feeling a little more full. Mommy has only dreamt of you one other time since then. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">When I hear that song I often think of how Mommy once knew you oh so well. I often think about how our short time together, with the memories and emotions that linked us together as Mommy and Daughter, feels so much like a dream. Sometimes I think about what it will be like to see you in heaven one day. In my mind, Mommy plays this song and imagines you and me dancing and hugging and holding hands. Mommy misses that so much.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Because I knew you, I walked with you once upon a dream...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Love you and miss you always my sweet Kaden Layne. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8FdmYtwyc-VMt6ep0fFMudz0kP3ENxHxL9oBGoTi6BlBE3p4rZgX2gN66UGHCx9OECAx_a7ilIs_NUWhb49WUfNKlI6JTyn_qcz7pgbUufZRltmBmg1y5cznOfqVtsgUJ9A1fy0IypzL/s1600/Fourth+of+July+Weekend+149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; font-family: Times; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj8FdmYtwyc-VMt6ep0fFMudz0kP3ENxHxL9oBGoTi6BlBE3p4rZgX2gN66UGHCx9OECAx_a7ilIs_NUWhb49WUfNKlI6JTyn_qcz7pgbUufZRltmBmg1y5cznOfqVtsgUJ9A1fy0IypzL/s320/Fourth+of+July+Weekend+149.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 22px; text-align: left;">These are our last pictures you and Mommy had taken together. </span><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 22px; text-align: left;">We were at Uncle Mike and Aunt Linda's July Fourth cookout. </span></td></tr>
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