Dear precious young family

This morning, like so many Sunday mornings before, we sat behind a precious young family in mass:

A sweet little curly haired blonde, with a big bow in her hair and glasses (I am such a sucker for a kiddo in glasses!), working on a no-spill cup full of fruit loops;
2 wiggly little boys in pint sized converse tennis shoes with their super hero figurines;
a sleeping baby in his carrier (I couldn't wait for him to wake up so I could make sweet eyes at him); Parents trying to keep them all quiet, giving tender kisses on their heads as needed;
and a Grandma whose lap was apparently the best seat in the house.

My thought this morning, like so many Sunday mornings before:

I hope they never have to bury one of these precious children.

1460 and counting

4 years ago today our lives changed forever. The ever-feared knock on the door became our darkest heartbreaking reality. Our family went from 5 to 4 in a moments notice. I started today as I have the past anniversaries of this day, in mass. As I prayed this morning, I prayed for all the survivors... our family, our friends, Austin's friends, the 2 young men living with emotional and physical wounds from that night and the young man living with the weight of his choices. My prayer has always been for conversion, for that refining fire to continually turn our hearts to Jesus and use this tragedy to pull us closer to him, to know him more, to show us the value of life above all else, and help us walk a little closer with Him each day. 


I pray differently now, now that I am a most uncomfortable reminder that life is so very fragile and some of us will outlive our children. I don't pray for outcomes as much as I pray for conversion and salvation. (I want to live in paradise with Jesus and my loved ones!) Oh, and peace. I pray for peace A LOT. I also pray that we can all listen to the Holy Spirit and discover our own purpose--what Jesus left us, the survivors, here to accomplish for Him. 


I can't say there has been a turning point in this journey, but rather a gradual awakening of hope and joy, a realization that joy and grief can co-exist, though not always equally on any given day. Our family is learning to make new memories without Austin (vacations, holidays, oh and a wedding!) while holding close the ones he gave us. Hearing his name or a story about his mischief or adventures brings laughter more than tears and that place in my heart that is just his size is empty, but sacred. I long to hear his voice, see his face and hug that skinny body, but that will have to wait. I wonder who he would be today on earth, but I know that he is gloriously complete in heaven. And I am grateful for all of you who have said a prayer, shed a tear, held our hand, sat with us, sent a text, visited his grave, offered a mass, or in any other way helped us along this road. God bless you for your faithfulness. 


Austin, we love and miss you. Pray for us!