I surrender.

Before Sam was born Ted shared with me his excitement to look in his review mirror and see Sam riding in his backseat.  Now we both feel the emptiness behind us.  Ted tells me some of his loneliest moments are on his way to work, when he would have been dropping Sam off at daycare, and instead drives on.

This afternoon a dear friend delivered dinner for us.  We were standing in our kitchen talking about how we hang out with our spouses and how she stays busy with her sweet children.  It flew out of my mouth faster than I knew what I was saying and the moment she left I started crying. “We don’t even have kids and all we do is hang out together.”

Of course we have kids. . we have Sam.  A beautiful six pound baby with ten fingers and ten toes, his mama’s hair and nose, his Daddy’s eyes and chin.  How could I say we don’t have kids?  I feel sick to my stomach at the comment.  Maybe it’s because we don’t have the opportunity to do life with Sam like the rest of my Mama friends.  We’re not going to see him in our rearview mirrors.  Our car seats will remain empty.  Our hearts are in need of a Savior.

One of my favorite things since Sam’s passing has been receiving cards in the mail.  We’ve saved them, opening only a few a night to continue to feel surrounded by the love of our friends and family.  Recently we opened a card from a sweet friend that held a key with the word “courage” written on it.  It’s from a company called The Giving Keys where “the message is yours for a time, but once they’ve served their purpose with you, pay it forward to inspire another.”  Her prayer for us is that we have the courage of God covering us while our grief is hard to bear.


This afternoon my grief feels hard to bear.  I visited Sam after having lunch with Ted.  It just so happens that the cemetery where Sam is buried is behind the daycare Sam was going to attend.  On my way out, there were a few handfuls of children playing on the playground.  Each bittersweet reminder can feel like a blow to my stomach.  Hanging on the outside of the building is an old basketball goal.  Written on the goal is one of my favorite versus.  With Jesus anything is possible. 


Anything.  All things.

To the God with who all things are possible; I humble myself before you and ask for courage.  Your Word invites us to be strong and courageous; not to be afraid because you will go before us; never to fail us or abandon us. 

There’s nothing left for me to do except surrender to your love.

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