The Night We Said Goodbye

There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you. - Maya Angelou

Well guys, I am out of excuses and quite frankly, I’m tired of fighting. This is the story my heart has been wrestling for nearly five years. It is the memory that caused me to sit down on the sidelines and quit running my race. The fear of sharing its details has caused me to pushed the pause button and completely stop writing, speaking and truly living. For the past four years I have allowed the enemy to silence me out of fear of sharing the final piece of Luke’s story in detail and the pain that it might myself cause others to relive. Quite frankly, I had given up on myself and this blog, but God (and some very persistent friends) never gave up on me.
If you know our story, then you know how it ends. I know there are a lot of mom’s who find this blog after receiving a tough diagnosis about your baby. If that is you, I completely understand if you want to hit the back button right now. I’ve been there.

I also know that I am not the only one who has experienced saying goodbye to their child on this earth. I write this so that you know that you aren't alone and that your empty arms aren't the only ones aching. Our stories may not be exactly the same but our pain is similar. I share this to honor you and your babies but please be encouraged that your story is equally beautiful and worth telling.

Ok, so here goes. This is not easy to write nor is it easy to read. It is heavy. It hurts. Yet, it has to be told. It is a real piece of our lives and Luke’s story. So, please bear with me...  It’s time to move on and finally set it free.

This is the night I said goodbye to my son.

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July 8th, 2010 was a good day.

When you are confined to the walls of a hospital for days on end, your perspective begins to shift. Nine days spent in those walls echoing the same sounds and beeps over and over again. The prognosis had not changed. Our son was still not expected to live, but that day… there was hope. For many hours, his labs were stable, his fluid was draining and weaning from the ECMO machine looked promising. Our sweet tiny boy was waking up and becoming more alert -- moving his toes and opening both his eyes halfway. That day, I had stayed by his side, rubbing the few inches of his skin that was not covered in tape, gauze and tubes. We had some of our favorite nurses there with us and shared lots of stories and laughs. It was a good day.

 Our bright-eyed boy. July 8th, 2010.

We were tired. Exhausted. We decided that for the first time since our arrival we would go back to the hotel to get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep since our favorite nurse was scheduled to be with him. Leaving the hospital that night, we were happy and hopeful. We watched the Bachelor. My mom and mother-in-law slept across the room on the pull out couch. It was as normal of a night as we had experienced in 11 days.

Around 4am, our phone rang. It was our nurse, Jackie. She told us that we didn’t need to hurry but she wanted to warn us before we arrived that Luke’s condition had taken a turn for the worse. His circulation to his arms and legs had stopped overnight. We grabbed clothes and were out the door in a matter of minutes. We didn’t say a word the whole way there. We knew.

When I walked in the room, the entire atmosphere had changed. Nurses and doctors were everywhere. Jackie hugged us. I stood by his side but the little boy I had left just hours before now looked completely different.

Black. His arms from his elbows down on both sides. His knees to his toes. His teeny tiny fingernails and toenails… all solid black. The smell of nitroglycerin cream from a failed attempt to regain circulation reeked from his body. They warned me not to touch his skin or the cream would give me a horrible headache. I couldn’t help myself. 

 

They told us that we did not have to make a decision. That Luke's body was making a decision for us. They said that even if they were able to restore Luke's heart and we were able to go home that the lack of oxygen to his extremities had already caused so much damage that they would have to amputate both of his arms and legs.

The entourage of heart doctors rounded as usual that morning but didn’t stay long. There wasn’t much to say. Dr. Austin sat down with us and said the same words that we would hear hundreds of times over the next few days…. I am so sorry.

Heart and Hands arrived. I cannot say enough about what a blessing they were. They stayed with us most of the day and helped us “plan” what we wanted the day to look like. They prepared to take molds of his hands and feet. One of my most treasured possessions to this day.

At this point, some of our family members were beginning to arrive. Benson and I decided to make a quick trip back to the hotel to take showers and change clothes. There just are no words to describe what it was like leaving the hospital to “get ready” for what would be our last hours with our son. How do you dress for that? How do you even mentally prepare to say goodbye to your baby that you have just met? I remember praying so desperately in the shower and weeping with everything inside me. I knew that only a miracle could save my baby and I prayed..  pleaded with God for that miracle. I wanted that miraculous story for our boy's life so badly. But in the same breath, I knew. I knew that there was more to life than death. I knew that in the presence of my Savior, death had no sting. I remember so vividly crying out in that moment God, no matter what happens… he is yours. Just give me the strength to let him go if I have to.

Before we left the hotel, I forced myself to make one of the hardest phone calls of my life. As a photographer, there was nothing I wanted more than to photograph my baby. I had been studying and preparing for the day that I would bring my sweet boy home, wrap him up and photograph every detail of his sweet newborn squish. When we found out about Luke’s diagnosis, I ran across information about the Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep organization who volunteers their time and talents to photograph critically ill and/or stillborn babies. As a hopeful mom, the last thing I wanted was to have to rely on their services but I decided to save their contact information in my phone just in case. So, before heading back to the hospital… I found the number saved in my phone and called to tell them that my baby would be taken off life support in a few hours and I would appreciate if they could send someone to take photographs of us together. They didn’t ask questions, they just came. I am still so so thankful for that. The pictures that you see on this page were taken by one of their photographers. As hard as they are to look through, I will cherish them forever.

Coming back to the hospital, the waiting room was filled with sweet faces of friends and family who had come to rally around us that day. There are too many stories to tell here but God orchestrated some amazing details to make sure that our people could be there for us that day. They rallied around us with shirts, tears and hugs.

We spent the biggest part of the day, soaking up our sweet boy. We both tried holding him again for a few brief seconds but due to Luke's intubation, it proved very difficult. I remember being so happy to hold him again but so scared at the same time. I was terrified that I would hurt him but they assured me that his stats were stable in our arms. I guess our sweet boy knew exactly were he was supposed to be.

Since the ECMO machine was Luke’s primary form of life support, I asked that they remove every other tube and tape that they could so that I could see his sweet face. What a gift that was. I had not seen his face without intubation since he was born. I bet I kissed those little lips a thousand times. I put little UK socks on his feet - they were the only item of clothing he ever wore. We debated putting on a hat on his head but decided that his hair was too awesome to be covered up. Since his chest was still open, we placed his monogrammed blanket over top of him to cover his heart. He looked so perfect laying there... you would never know by looking at him that anything was wrong. He was the most beautiful baby I’ve ever laid eyes on.

As the day passed, Luke showed signs that he was starting to be in pain. This was absolutely heart wrenching for me as a mama. I watched helplessly as his nurses pushed maximum amount of pain meds through his lines to try and comfort him as best they could but his tiny face would still contort in pain. He would open his mouth to cry but no sound could come out. Every single time he tried to cry, my entire body ached with panic. The pain on his tiny sweet pace is still to this day, one of the most terrifying images that I wish I could erase from my memory.

Once everyone arrived, we invited people in to meet our sweet boy. This was the first time that anyone outside of our immediate family had the opportunity to see him. Our dearest friends, Bro. Troy Long and Bro. Brian Rafferty as well as our pastor at the time, Bro. Rob Hughes worked together to plan a special service for our boy. We prayed over him and christened him, dedicating his life and his story to the Lord. Our sweet friend, Leah was there. From early in my pregnancy, Leah had a unexplainable connection with our boy. She and Benson traveled and sang together in a Christian group called Steadfast and she had prayed and prayed for our sweet Luke. It was obvious that God made sure that Leah was there by our side that day and as we cried and prayed over our baby, she lead us in some of the deepest and more pure moments of worship I have ever experienced. I am forever thankful that Luke was able to hear the sweet voices of both Leah and his Daddy worshipping together in person as he had heard countless times before while I was pregnant with him.

We are blessed to have a man like  Bro. Brian Rafferty in our lives. He was one of the first people we called once we received Luke’s diagnosis. His love and support of our family has never faltered. When we knew that this day would be our last with Luke, we instantly asked for someone to call Bro. Brian. As he stood over Luke that day, he cried along with us.. begging God to show up. He spoke scriptures of healing over our sweet boy and led us in powerful prayers that shook the entire floor of the hospital as we all cried out together… In the name of Jesus… Luke live. Those words have echoed through my heart ever since… and they are the proclamation that every single second we have on this earth should be not be spent just merely existing but that in 

the name of Jesus, we live.

Each person in the room then spent some precious time with our boy before they left. As the room emptied, the nurses moved the furniture around and brought in a couch that would allow us to sit and hold our sweet boy. It was not easy to hold Luke and nothing like I imagined or wished it would be. There were wires, cords and cannulas everywhere. Our nurses did the best they could to cover everything and make it seem and natural as possible but it was still very frightening as his chest was still open and his body very fragile.

Benson’s mom was the first to hold him. Followed by my mom and then my dad. There are no words to describe the pain I experienced watching each of them hold their grandson for the first and only time. Joy, grief, excitement, sorrow… it all mixed together in that room. Our sweet parents ached twice --- once for us, as their children and for the pain that we were experiencing but also for themselves and for all the dreams and memories they hoped to share with Luke. I will never forget the look on my dad’s face as he held Luke in his arms, memorizing every single inch of his sweet little face. My dad insisted that Luke was hungry and rooting to nurse so they handed him a wet sponge and immediately, Luke latched on and began to suck. Leave it to Papaw to be the one to spoil this boy. 

 

 

Once our parents had held him, Benson put him in his arms. It is no secret that my husband has a tender heart… he gets that and a million other wonderful qualities from his dad. As I looked at him that day, my heart hurt so fiercely for him. On our very first date, I remember asking Benson what the one thing he wanted more than anything in the world was and he promptly replied that he wanted to be a dad. You see, Benson had an amazing example to follow. I am convinced that there is no greater human being I have met in my life than Benson’s father, Tommy. Not only did he love the Lord and the church, he loved his family with everything that he had. From the moment I met him, Tommy opened his arms and welcomed me in, always taking my side and loving me like his own. Shortly after our wedding, Benson’s father passed away from lung cancer leaving a huge void in our hearts and in our family. Even though he wasn’t there that day in the hospital with us as we said goodbye to Luke, I saw him in that moment when I looked in Benson’s eyes holding our son. There was my husband… a father to a little boy. His greatest dream in the world.. finally come true.

Benson then handed Luke to me. This time, there were no nurses waiting to rush him to the NICU. It was just me and my boy. Everyone left to give Benson and I time alone with our son. For hours that seemed like minutes, I did not take my eyes off or him. I soaked in the weight of his little body in my arms. I touched my lips to his warm skin.

This is where the story becomes hard to tell because I remember every detail so well. I remember trying to hold him so still because any small move I made caused him to wince in pain. My heart beating so fast because I was so scared. I remember wishing that I could just run away and be pregnant with him again just so I could have him safe inside me. I remember trying to fit a lifetime of things I wanted to tell him and experience with him in just a few short hours. I remember telling him that I was sorry.. that we tried everything that we could. I told him how much we wanted him and how perfect we thought he was… that we were not mad at him for having to leave us. I told him about his room at home and how crazy his grandparents had gone buying every toy and outfit imaginable for him to wear…. I thanked him for making me a mommy and for fighting so hard to stay with us.

I talked to him about Jesus and Heaven. We told him his Papaw Tommy would be there with him and that he would never be alone. We promised him that we would see him again and that we would think about him every single day until the moment we would all be together…. that no matter what happened, we would never ever forget about him

Benson told him he had the best Mommy in the world and promised that he would take care of me. I will never forget the words he whispered to Luke that day. I knew their significance because I knew my husband’s heart... I will show your Mommy the world, Luke.
Oh, how we wanted to show that boy the world.

I told him not to be afraid that his Daddy and I were there… that everyone who loved him was here with him and that he didn’t need to be scared. That Jesus would hold him when I could not and that he would never have to hurt or be sick ever again. That his heart would finally be whole….and when we ran out of words, we sang to him.

The nurses and doctors waited outside for our signal. I still don’t know how we ever had the strength to motion for them to come into the room but we did somehow. If I could, I would still be there in that room holding him to this day, but I knew… Benson knew… that we had to let him go.

They came in and turned off all of the machines. For the first time, the room was completely dark other than small glow from a nearby screen. Our ECMO nurse clipped off the cannulas and stopped the blood from flowing into my son. His heart was on his own. I knew that we would only have a few minutes or even seconds left with our son.

Our parents and pastors surrounded us in Luke’s room while friends and family circled outside our door and prayed. I knew they were praying for Luke to live and so was I. But more than I selfishly wanted my son to defy all odds and survive that day…. I wanted him healed. I wanted his body whole and the pain to stop. I wanted him to be free.

Our boy…. what a fighter. The doctors and nurses kept coming in and checking his pulse and it was still there. Five minutes turned to ten minutes… ten minutes to twenty and he was still there with us, his tiny heart beating slowly on its own. Luke was still and calm… he stopped crying out in pain and just laid peacefully in my arms. Our tears stopped flowing and we all just began to call out in worship, taking turns singing out in praise. I kept kissing his sweet face, over and over again. It was the holiest moment I have ever experienced in my life filled with nothing but reverence and love. Benson began singing “I Will Rise”... it was the last song my son heard on this earth, sang by the sweet, familiar sound of his daddy’s voice. The resident doctor came in to check his heartbeat once again, and I will never forget the exact words she said looking deep into my eyes, “I am sorry but Luke has died.” It was 12:05am on July 10, 2010. My sweet boy’s broken heart had beat on its own for 45 minutes.

None of us knew the exact moment it happened. He left us peacefully and silently, as if he were asleep. I continued to kiss him until his skin began becoming cold and then I held him tight one last time.

Our sweet ECMO nurse came in. I had to ask what I was supposed to do next. I had researched crib bumpers and video monitor but I had no clue what you were supposed to do after your baby dies in your arms. She said we could hold him or bathe him if we wanted but that they needed to remove the cannulas and close his heart up. He looked so perfect wrapped in my arms and I knew that was the way I wanted to remember him. The last thing I wanted to see was his poor, tired body filled with tubes again. So, I stood up and kissed his forehead and told him goodbye.

Then I looked my sweet nurse in the eyes and we both cried as I placed my sweet, sweet baby in her arms and turned and walked away. Never in my life had my arms felt so empty.

Our families began the task of packing up the little room that we had stayed in for the past week. Gifts, cards and letters that covered the walls and window sills were taken down and brought out to our car. Benson and I walked out to the nurses station that was surrounded by our friends and family who stayed outside our door for hours praying. We were forced to sign difficult papers about autopsies, death certificates and what funeral home would be picking up his body the next morning. It was an absolute nightmare.

I was offered a wheelchair, but I refused. Instead, I walked every painful step out of the hospital and out into the parking garage. I remember Benson opening the car door for me and as I climbed in, my eyes looked into the back seat where Luke’s car seat was perfectly installed. As he climbed in the driver seat and grabbed my hand, I bent over and sobbed.

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I’m not here telling this story to make you cry or feel sorry for us. It’s not about that or even us. I tell you this because some people will read this story and believe that God failed us. They will think that because our baby was not given the miracle that we prayed for that our prayers were not answered at all.

THAT IS NOT TRUE.

THAT IS NOT HOW THIS STORY ENDS.

I tell you the most painful story of my life because if ever God was present, it was there in that room that night. He was there and His goodness flooded every inch of that hospital. What Satan meant for destruction and evil… to tear apart my marriage and end our ministry, God took it and used for good. He is still in the business of using it for the good today.

For over four years, I have been paralyzed from the fear of moving forward. I have been terrified that writing about our final moments with Luke would mean his story ended and that there would be nothing more to say. So instead of writing, I stayed silent. I stopped blogging, speaking and teaching. As months went by, I kept pushing back the pain into the far corners of my heart and pretended that everything was okay. I would share bits and pieces of our testimony here and there but I have never shared the details of our last day with Luke. I always held back when it began to hurt.

Now I realize that by being stuck looking back, I was allowing myself and my ministry to become nothing more than a pillar of salt, a monument to what happened in our past. Now, I see that Luke's story far from over and is the constant thread that binds every season of our lives together. I understand saying goodbye is not the end but rather the start of beautiful beginnings. I know that God has more for me in my future than he has ever had for me in my past and as terrifying as that is, I am ready. I cannot wait to share with you how God has redeemed what has been lost and has blessed our sweet family over the past four years. More than anything, I am ready to see what the next chapter of life holds. Surely, the best is yet to come.

Whatever God has for you, it is not behind you. - Beth Moore

The morning is here...

This is my first post in a very long time.

I know many people are under the impression that I have abandoned the blog. Some of you have sent me sweet emails and messages asking where I have been and that you have been praying for our family. I know many of you have followed our story so closely and care deeply for us...for that, I can never say thank you enough.

I wish I could just blame my lack of posts on being busy (which is true) or on the overwhelming physical strain my body is enduring with this pregnancy (also very true). However, I must be honest with myself in admitting that my absence is much more out of fear than anything else.

These past few months have been the most difficult I have experienced since Luke's death. I am very aware that the majority of people closest to me do not have the slightest idea that I have been struggling. I have managed to keep living life to the fullest, ministering and laughing all while fighting a battle within myself. While I am not one to purposely hide my feelings or emotions, I have intently drawn back from sharing my heart openly in public and have instead spent many quiet moments in the presence of my Savior. He has been true to His Word and has been close and provided me with a comfort that no person on this earth could give. However, I would be a liar I said that I have not been scared - scared of another bad diagnosis, scared of something else going wrong and scared of sharing it all.

During this season of my life, I have been reminded so often of Chapter 14 in the Book of Mark where Jesus retreated from those closest to Him and went to the garden to pray alone. I close my eyes and try to picture Him there..tears streaming down His cheeks, crying out to His Father. In that moment, He was filled with grief and He too was scared.

So much of my life this past year has been full of emotions...grief, fear, anxiety, uncertainty - just to name a few. There are no words to describe the terror of standing beside my baby's bedside watching him suffer, not knowing what the next hour would hold. There is no way to explain the uncontrollable anxiety of laying on a table in our OB's office for a second time, watching the tiny heart of our newest sweet baby flicker on the screen while we waited for the doctor to tell us that he/she was perfectly healthy. Grief and fear are emotions that have been all too familiar to us these days.

Alone in the garden that night, Jesus was also filled with emotions. He knew what He was going to face and was not ignorant to what the future held. He knew that the pain he would experience on the cross would be great. He knew that people who once praised Him would turn their backs and spit on Him with disgrace. He knew the physical agony He would experience in His flesh would be far more than He could ever bear alone. Yet, in the midst of His fear, I love how honest my Savior was in that garden crying out to His Father in verse 36... "Abba, Father,” he said, “everything is possible for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will."

What a prayer! Those powerful words whispered from the mouth of Christ are far too similar to the ones that echo in my mind as I think back to that July night when I held my son in my arms for the last time. Oh, how badly I wanted that pain to be taken from me! How deeply I wished it would all just go away! Yet, in the midst of His fear, of my fear, God remained faithful. He did not stand silent to the prayer of His Son that night just as He did not turn His back on us as we cried out for the Lord to spare our baby that night in the hospital. He was at work through it all. After all, our God, while silent at times, does not remain silent forever.

While Jesus, that night in His flesh, saw only the darkness ahead,
God could see the glory of the morning that was yet to come!

That unforeseen morning is not just a reference to the third day when our Savior rose in glory, it is part of a promise that the Lord has made to each of us in His Word. In Psalm 30:5, God makes us a promise that "weeping may last through the night, but joy comes with the morning."

No matter how deep the pain is or how dark the night may be, joy comes.

Not long after Luke went to Heaven, I remember longing to be pregnant again. I remember begging God to give me another baby...not to replace Luke but to fulfill my dream of being a mom and knowing what it was like to raise a child. I had tasted the sweetest love in the world when I held my baby boy for the first time and after Luke went to heaven, I craved to taste that love again. As Benson and I began trying to become pregnant, I remember digging in God's Word and reading over and over all the promises He had made me. I began putting my hands on my stomach multiple times a day and praying out loud, "God - I stand on the promise that I am loved and highly favored...that it is Your desire to bless me...that whatever I ask for in Your name will be given to me...that no weapon formed against me shall prosper...that You came so that I may have abundant life in You..." I remember literally screaming out God's promises to me - calling on them, one after another.

It did not take long for God to respond. The sweet baby girl growing inside me today is my promise. She is my long awaited morning, my answered prayer, my joy that has come. I feel blessed that God honored our requests so quickly and that we were able to get pregnant in a matter of a few months. I believe with all my heart, that God's quick favor was in response to our obedience and faithfulness to call on His promises and take Him at His Word. The sweet baby I'm carrying is an answer to a bold and persistent plea to my Savior.

Through praying for this baby, God convicted my heart that I don't pray as boldly as I should. I feel that often times Christians are afraid that their prayers may offend God in some way. Just as we don't want to ask our neighbors or friends for help, we are afraid our requests may inconvenience the Holy Spirit into moving. We feel like we are being selfish in praying audacious and bold prayers for our lives and lives of those around us. However, God WANTS us to be bold in our prayers to Him. He isn't put out by requests we make out of pure desires that come from our hearts. As long as we pray in faith, believing and asking for things not to uplift ourselves but to uplift His kingdom - God is honored and listens. It is an unfortunate reality that we find ourselves content with mindless prayers for God to bless our food, heal the sick, bless our families. We repeat the same prayers every day, at the same moments with little consideration to the words that we are saying. While blessing our food, families and the sick are good places for us to begin, the Lord does not want us to become satisfied just praying for the small things. Our God is big enough to handle big requests - so why are we so afraid to bring them before Him? Why are we not praying for nations to reconcile? For thousands...or even millions to come to Christ? For the dead to rise or the lame to walk? God wants His people to desire Him with so much passion and conviction that it stirs us to radically call His glory down from Heaven. Has it ever really occurred to you that by praying big prayers, God may actually answer?

As difficult as the last few months have been for us emotionally, Benson and I have witnessed a great movement of the Holy Spirit. We have started praying crazy big prayers for our lives and God has been coming through in amazing ways. We are truly trusting in Jesus and taking Him for His Word and our lives have been abundantly blessed because of it. People around us are being healed of terminal diseases, families on the verge of breaking are being restored, people are accepting Christ on a weekly basis...not because of anything that makes us special but because we, along with many others around us, have decided to pray beyond our imagination!

It has been a long night, but joy has come...and continues to come in new, fresh ways every single day. I am so glad that my God didn't forget me that night I said goodbye to Luke...and that though I had to endure pain for a short time, He promised me a morning full of more joy than I could have ever dreamed.

I write to you today to tell you, no matter what the pain may look like - there is a promise, a promise of joy and of abundant life. God never intended the night to last forever. It is time to call on the power of God to move in our lives, to redeem the promises He has made to us and to pray bold, audacious prayers that stir the very heart of God into action.

Its time to claim our promises, the morning has come!

Happy 5 months Luke!

Today marks 5 months since our sweet baby boy was born.

It is hard to believe that it has been five months. Everyday I think about what Luke would be doing if he was here...what I would be buying him for Christmas...what his personality would be like...or who he would look like. When you have a baby that is in Heaven, it's very easy to get lost in the "what if's" and eventually fall deep into the sadness of a life you will never fully know. So instead of focusing on what isn't, I remind myself each day to be thankful for what was...his long skinny legs, crooked toes, head full of hair. Even with a broken heart, my baby was perfect. There was and is so much to be thankful for.  I carried him, I gave birth to him, I held him in my arms. He was here and he was mine.

So, today...I celebrate.
Happy five months little man...we love you more than ever.

Happy Birthday Luke!

HAPPY 4 MONTHS LUKE!

4 months ago today I experienced a joy that can only be topped by God's love and salvation...the birth of my son.

As for Kristin and I, we haven't posted in quite sometime...actually, it's been a long time. We have not abandoned the blog, but we are in a teaching season from the Lord. He is doing amazing things in both mine and Kristin's life as we receive His rich blessings every day.

I will say, watch out world because my wife is on fire! God has blessed me with gifts and talents to lead worship and He is opening many doors...but...God is giving Kristin some of the most incredible revelation of Scripture and His Word that I have ever heard. She is a woman after God's heart and her bold witness for Him has the devil shaking in his shoes!

As we continue to transition into a new phase of ministry, please be in prayer for us both. We don't know exactly what or where...but we know it is BIG!

-- Benson

three months without him here.

It's been three months since....


 I saw this face..

Prayed this hard....

Kissed these cheeks....

And held this miracle in my arms...

Oh, I miss him more every day.



Happy 3 months little man!

Today is Luke's 3 month birthday...

Tonight I will read Luke the book, "You Are Special" by Max Lucado. It was a special book given to us by Tricia. (Thanks Aunt T!).

Right after Luke was born, my whole family sat around and talked about every inch of him. One of our most favorite things about him were his sideburns. Not one of us had ever seen a baby with sideburns like Luke. He had thicker sideburns than most men do. Thus, the nickname..."little man" came to be. Every time my dad stood over Luke, he would call him little man.

You can kinda see his sideburns in this picture.

I'd like to share with you a song that has stolen my heart. It is my song for my sweet boy, my little man.

Sweet Luke, oh how Mommy and Daddy miss you. The world is such an empty place without you here. It's hard to think about how I am supposed to be packing up your newborn clothes and taking you over to your Papaw's every morning...how you should be going to your first birthday party this weekend - your cousin Crit is turning one...how you should be pulling Rylie's hair and keeping me up every night. I hope that you know that you were everything I had ever dreamed of. God did not make a single mistake with you Luke. You were perfect. You are perfect...and Heaven is so much sweeter now that you are there. I am so proud to be your mommy. Sweet dreams, little man...We all love you so so so much.

The peace of God.

"And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." - Phillipians 4:7

I received a beautiful email that gave me such amazing insight to the verse. I just had to share. Thank you Donna!

So many people who have lost children, spouses or anyone they love often struggle with the concept of having "peace from God." We lay awake at night...wondering and questioning, Why? What if?

Phillipians 4:7 is a verse that I am very familiar with. It was given to me many times while I was in the hospital with Luke. It is what I like to call, a feel-good verse that you read when you need to be uplifted.  I remember reading it many times thinking...okay, good verse...got it, thanks.

However, the email I got the other day opened my eyes to a piece of the Scripture that I had never really understood the significance of...

"the peace of God, which passeth all understanding..."

There are often times that I get caught up with wanting to understand why this happened to me...to us...to Luke. I have reasoned that it was not of God's character to inflict illness upon Luke or suffering upon my family (see post)...and that is something that I believe very strongly. However, I am still human and I still wish there was some answer, some closure to the question...why?

However, there is a peace that comes from God...not just a peace that gives us rest or a warm feeling inside...not just a peace that lifts us up and carries us in our darkest times. It is a peace that goes beyond - that passes - our own understanding.

In the words of my friend Donna...

"The peace of God is not in our understanding--it is passed it. Greater than! God's peace is not something we have once in a while, or when things are going great. Peace in our hearts keeps our spiritual blood flowing! God's peace is with us through it all!"

How true.

When we are in a season of questioning...we can rest in His peace that surpasses our understanding and holds our heart and mind. Some things are just not for us to understand and that is okay. We don't always have to have the answers to our problems as long as we put our trust into the Ultimate Problem-Answerer.

I am so greatful that God has given me a peace that is greater than my understanding. I do not have to know the answers to "why" or "what if."  I can just rest in knowing that He is God and that, in all things, He will carry me through.

Great is Thy Faithfulness

I apologize for the lack of posts. Unfortunately, when I don't post for several days...it usually means that I have been struggling. I try not to post negative thoughts and feelings on here for the world to see...so instead of showing my brokenness, I tend to just keep to myself.

It seems that as time passes, it gets harder and harder. So many people think that time heals things and while I agree that is true, it hasn't gotten any easier for me yet. In the days following Luke going to heaven, I ran on nervous energy...getting by each minute on the prayers of others and on the grace of God. Today, that nervous energy is gone and I am left with the harsh reality of life without my baby. To put it bluntly...it sucks.

I am ordering a stone for my son's grave instead of his winter clothes. That sucks.
I packed away his stroller this weekend instead of packing it in the car to go to his first UK football game. That sucks.

It is so hard to believe that it has been just two months since my life changed forever. It seems like the longest two months of my life. And while it has not been easy by any means, the Lord has been very good. Some days are harder than others...I cry often, but not every day. I allow myself time to grieve and talk about Luke a lot with people that I am close to. Talking has helped a lot. I am so grateful to such an amazing community of friends and family who have loved and prayed me through this time of my life.

More than anything, I am thankful for the Lord's faithfulness.
He is SO faithful...

Oh, I cry just typing that...GOD IS SO FAITHFUL.

Many of you all do not know me outside of this blog or know me personally...Today, I am a woman after the Lord's own heart...but I have not always been that way.

I have a wonderful family and amazing parents that I adore with my entire heart. My home has always been one that grounded me in faith. I was raised in a wonderful church family with an amazing youth group that gave me a solid foundation and knowledge of Christ. However, during my later teenage years, I decided to do things my own way for awhile...and while I was never a "bad" kid, the choices I made and the desires of my heart were far from being part of God's will. Yet, in the midst of my youthful ignorance...God was faithful to me.

God was faithful when I gave my heart to old boyfriends who promised me forever...
God was faithful when I cried myself to sleep at night, wanting to end my own life...
God was faithful when my "friends" turned their backs on me...
God was faithful when I changed my career path and trusted my future in Him.

Even though I didn't realize it at the time...in the midst of all my hurts and pains...God was faithful.

He gave me a ministry with youth that changed my life.
He gave me gifts of the Spirit and wisdom that I had never experienced before.
He gave me a life partner, a husband, a love that continues to amaze me every day.
and He gave me a son, a beautiful baby boy that changed the world in just 12 days.
God was faithful.

When I think about what I deserved...the mistakes I made...the people that I hurt and lied to, I cannot hold back tears...that in the midst of it all, God was still faithful to me.

So, when I am in the midst of the deepest grief...when I think about how I deserved a healthy baby...how I deserved to bring him home with me...and how I deserved to be holding him now...

I think about my past, my mistakes, my sins instead...
and I am so thankful that God did not give me what I deserved.

I deserved condemnation...an eternity in hell...a life of fear, pain and doubt. Instead...He gave me peace, hope, freedom and security. A life eternal to be with my Jesus and my sweet baby Luke. God has been faithful to me.

So often, we think about all the things that God has not done for us...
instead of thanking Him for all that He has.

I don't know about you all, but I do not stop enough to thank Him for the simple fact of saving my soul. I take Heaven for granted so often. I take His mercy, His goodness, His faithfulness to me for granted.

The world today also takes faithfulness for granted. There is no longer much value to what it means to be faithful. Adultery is glorified. Lying is expected. 50 year anniversaries are seldom heard of. We build walls around our hearts and protect ourselves from people we unconsciously expect to hurt us. We find it hard to trust others, to give our hearts fully to anyone because we are so afraid that they may be unfaithful to us.

We carry that bondage into our relationship with Christ. We are scared to let go of our dreams and our hopes. We are terrified of trusting God completely. We may give our lives to Him but we continue to hold on to a small portion - afraid that if something happens, we will have nothing left. We love the Lord, yet we continue to hide behind the walls we have built around our hearts...holding on with fists clenched tight and knuckles white, never fully letting go.

How beautiful it is, though...when we truly believe and fully trust. When we let the walls fall to the ground and saturate ourselves in Him. With no more fear and doubts. We open up our eyes and realize...that no matter what happens in this life, He is always faithful.

There is freedom in letting go. In being faithful to the One who is faithful to us.
How true these lyrics are...

"Great is thy faithfulness, O God my Father,
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be.

Great is Thy faithfulness! Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!"

The whole world will fail me.
People will break their promises.
But...the Lord was, is, and always will be faithful to me.

...and for that, I am thankful.

Please take a moment to pray for sweet baby Bowen., the son of Matt & Sarah Hammitt of Sanctus Real who was born with HLHS just a few days ago. He came through his surgery fine but had a rough night last night and is now on full ECMO support, just like baby Luke. My heart breaks knowing the same thoughts and fears that his parents are going through right now. You can read their story at http://www.bowensheart.com. 

God is good, all the time..

Bible study was awesome last night. 40 women came and worshipped together. I am so thankful that God is moving in a radical way. He is so faithtful. I will share what we learned later on today... for now, I need to vent. Many of you have already heard this soapbox... So, I apologize for this in advance....


Today, I went through and read several blogs that I keep up with. Most of them are stories of heart moms and mothers who have babies in heaven. Today, I read THREE different blogs that all mentioned the same thing...

"This was God's plan for our lives."
"Why did God choose us to lose our babies?"
"Why me, God?"

 My heart almost exploded out of my chest when I read those comments and I went on leave replies that were longer than necessary. Not because I am angry (or offended) but because I know that God how good the Lord has been to me. This subject is soooo sensitive to my heart and I apologize if I seem angry (I am not) I am just really passionate about the goodness of the Lord these days.

Trust me, I understand. I have been there. I know how hard it is not to question God and I know that God understands our occasional doubts. However, It breaks my heart to know that to many people, these feelings are not just doubts... they are beliefs. Some Christians honestly believe that God is responsible when bad things happen. They love Him and they believe in Him but at the same time, they feel like suffering is part of God's plan... that when bad things happen, God just hides His face.

Shortly after Luke passed, so many people would come up to me and tried to offer words of comfort. I completely understand that people don't know what to say. I know that they mean well.. but one thing I began to notice over and over again was that people were almost blaming God for Luke's illness.

"I guess it just wasn't meant to be."
"I guess it was just part of God's plan"

Every time I would hear this, my spirit wanted to literally throw up. How can anyone, especially Christians, believe that the same God that sent his Son on the cross to die for us, who is loving, merciful and kind would PLAN for a sweet, innocent baby to suffer and die?

It pretty much boils down to the fact that churches today are not doing a good job of representing Christ or who He is. If you are Christian (or even a non-believer) and have been in church your whole life and have a misrepresentation of who God is, I apologize. I believe this is one area where the church as failed miserably. For that, I am sorry.

I do NOT know what kind of view you have of the Lord. I don't know what you see when you close your eyes and picture Jesus in your mind. But, I do know this - GOD IS GOOD.

Jeremiah 29:11 tell us that Lord does have a plan for each one of us...
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

The Lord's plan for each of our lives is not one that includes bondage, sickness or death. It is a plan of prosperity, of richness. So, why do babies die? Why are people sick? I will tell you why... The answer lies in John 10:10... "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

We live in a disgusting, dark, sin-filled world. Satan's entire purpose on this earth is to cause pain and suffering to the people of the Lord. It is not my fault that Luke was sick. It is not the Lord's fault that Luke died. It is not because of lack or prayer or because God was not faithful to us. It is because satan is a thief and he wants to destroy my life and yours too.

When I get to heaven and stand face to face with my Savior, He will not be able to tell me why Luke had HLHS. He will not be able to explain to me why he had to suffer and die. He will not be able to answer my questions because He did not cause this to happen to my family. He did not "choose" us for this. He did not look at Luke and say, "Sorry, little buddy.. but this is my plan for your life." That is not the kind of God I have given my life to. THAT IS NOT MY GOD.

My God is good, in season and out of season. He is the lifter of my head. He is Jehovah Jireh, my provider. He is my protector and my strong tower. He is the way, the truth and the life. He is not a baby killer or a sickness giver. He is good, all the time. All the time, He is good.

It breaks my heart that people who give their lives to the Lord and honestly trust Him can somehow reason in their minds that God plans bad things to happen to his people. He has power over satan and over sickness and death. Yes, He could have chosen to intervene and heal my son. Yes, all authority on heaven and earth is His and He could have reached into Luke's little body and healed Him completely. But He did not... and that does not make Him any less of a God or make Him any less faithful. He is still God and He is still good. He is still a God who can. He is still a God who heals. It is just that sometimes He chooses to and sometimes He chooses not to.

So often, we as Christians feel that in order to be "healed" that healing has to take place the way that we want it to, in front of our eyes. We think that healing has to be a witnessed miracle on earth. However, the ultimate healing is to be lifted up into the arms of Jesus - to be safe, protected and whole forever. The way God chose to heal Luke is not less because it did not happen on earth. I do not believe that God is any less faithful because He chose to give my son life eternal. I honestly rejoice with my WHOLE heart that God did not allow Luke to suffer. He could have allowed him to suffer years without arms and legs - but instead, He showed up and showed off and blessed our family with a whole healthy little boy, no tubes, no surgeries, no suffering EVER again. That, my friends, is HEALING!

We may not understand why God chooses to intervene the way that He does. We may not understand why some babies live with HLHS and others don't. But I do know this.... God is GOOD. He loves you and He loves me. He came to give us abundant life and has plans to prosper us. What satan intended for evil, God can turn it around and use it for the good.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." - Romans 8:28

I pray that today you believe that He is who He says He is! That you do not conform to the world and those who try to lessen the blow by pushing things off on God when bad things happen. He deserves our praise, not our pity or our blame.

GOD IS GOOD, All the time!
All the time, GOD IS GOOD.