Sammy's mama-

You, Lord, chose me to be Sammy's mama.  Even when You knew it would only be for 5 years and 6 days, you still chose me.

In my darkest hours, I railed against You, I cried out, guttural screams from the depths of my broken heart, begging to know, "WHY? Why did you let me have him if You were going to take him back?  WHY?"

And in the depths of my despair, Your quiet whispers, Your Word, Your grace and Your mercy - gave me my answer.  

Because You love me.  

You created MY inmost being, just as you created Sammy's.  And You lent him to us for as long as he was meant to be. You allowed my heart to be filled beyond my wildest imagination with my crazy little band of kiddos.  Even in this brokenness, my heart is still full.  And that is simply - 

Because You love me.   

I haven't always felt this way in the past 9 years.  Mostly, I've struggled to find purpose, to want to live, to find joy and to keep the anger and bitterness at bay.  Yet, You've been at work in my heart, Lord.  Even when I couldn't see and it and sometimes still can't, You've answered my prayers and been faithful beyond my wildest expectations.  

Because You love me. 

All my life You have been faithful

All my life You have been SO, SO good

  With every breath that I am able

I will sing of the goodness of God. 

Late one night recently, as I sat in my bed, trying to find the will to sleep because I didn't want to face the wake up of the next day, I stumbled upon CeCe Winans praising You.  I just can't get it out of my head, I want to listen to it all the time on repeat and I don't ever want to forget YOUR goodness, Lord.  

So today, on this beautiful day that I became Sammy's mama, I'm going to SING OF GOODNESS OF GOD!  

You chose me. 

You love me. 

You gave me the beauty and blessing of loving Sammy. 

And now he is safe in Your arms, at the feet of Jesus.  

Today Lord, I pray for peace, thankfulness and joy in the hearts of every one of us that loved and was loved by my beautiful boy.  

Sammy - 

Mama misses you more than I could ever put into words. I thank God for every late night when you woke me and allowed me to tell you over and over how much I love you as I quietly prayed you back to sleep. I praise God for the stories you asked me to read over and over, for the velcro that kept you attached to me and seeking my heart always.  With a grateful heart, I will remember your incessant questions, the strength of your heart, your love for Jesus, and your powerfully precocious personality.  I will remember your quiet sweetness, your big, beautiful brown eyes where love lived always, your magnetic grin and most of all- 

I will remember the feeling of your arms wrapped around my neck as you whispered, 

"I love you, mama."

And I will always love you, my beautiful baby boy.

To the moon and back, 

love, 

mama

Even in Darkness...

there is always the tiniest sliver of light.  We may think the darkness is absolute, the light snuffed and smothered, the lamp extinguished.  

And yet, the light is always there.  

My soul has been in despair, in a darkness that felt so absolute, I couldn't see even that tiniest sliver.  But- 

it. was. there.  

all along. 

For a long time now, I've stumbled my way through this life that I simply do not want.  I wake up most mornings filled with dread, still shocked 6 1/2 years later that THIS is my life.  I isolate, create distance, hide.  I've even gone so far as to try and hide from God.  And while it may not look like that to those around me, because I'm still standing and didn't deny the existence of a God who allowed me to have all of those beautiful children and that precious family life knowing that in one single instant it would all be reduced to ashes...

I did.  I tried to hide. 

But today, because He loves me and someone else that loves me listened to the prompting of the Holy Spirit, I remembered.  I really remembered.

He surrounds me and I am simply never alone.  

I cannot go anywhere that He is not with me. 

He knew before He formed me, before He knit me together in my mother's womb- 

He knew all that would be and all that will be.  

And in His great love and faithfulness, He wove the earthly tapestry of love and faith that would carry me in all the days, the beautiful, the messy, the lonely and most of all -  the earth shattering, heartbreaking, soul crushing days of being a grieving mother.  

Even in darkness, I will find the light.

Where can I go from your Spirit? 

Where can I flee from your presence?

If I go up to the heavens, you are there;

if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. 

If i rise on the wings of the dawn, 

if I settle on the far side of the sea, 

even there your hand will guide me, 

your right hand will hold me fast. 

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me 

and the light become night around me,"

even the darkness will not be dark to you;

the night will shine like the day, 

for darkness is as light to you.

                                                                               Psalm 139 : 7 -12   

Becca - 

we may be cousins by birth, but you- 

you are my sister in Christ and that is even more precious.  

Bless your beautiful soul for your faithfulness, 

kindness and grace. 

The Christ light you radiate is so very bright and lovely.  

And your gift to me was exactly what the Holy Spirit knew I needed.  

You listened. 

Thank you. 

All my love, 

clan mac mama 

Even in Darkness by Morgan Cheek is a grief devotional born of the faith and pain of another grieving mama.   Becca gifted it to me and it inspired me to write this post.  

Even in Darkness by Morgan Cheek is a grief devotional that my beautiful cousin Becca gifted to me.  

 

When the words won't come-

When Sam & Mercy ran ahead to Jesus, I laid my soul bare for the world to see.  I ranted and wept, I railed at the injustice of it all, I shared my faith and promised to always seek God in the journey.  For a long time I kept that promise.  

But little by little, that resolve to keep writing, keep bringing the glory to Him in the mess fell away.  Like a deciduous tree in a southern forest, my leaves dropped around me and my heart felt brittle and dry, easily pushed by the winds of the circumstances of life in a fallen world.  Exhaustion from the broken road, anger at the shambles our life was left in, discouragement a constant and ever-present cloud, the words dried up and blew away.  Pig-Pen from Charlie Brown sometimes feels like my spirit animal.  

Just when I thought things couldn't fall apart any further than they already had-

My. Dad. Died. 

Just typing those words feels wrong.  Disgusting.  Awful. Unreal. 

18 days ago, at my mom's side, I held his hand and stroked his hair, praying and sobbing, sitting, standing, pacing, rocking.  But ultimately, staring in disbelief that the man who had led our family for 51 years, an indomitable man with the heart of a lion- was slowly and quietly leaving this world.  And no amount of beseeching, begging, pleading, or bargaining with God was going to change that.  For reasons I'll never know or understand, it was time.  

So I sang him home.  With the words of his favorite song jumbled and mixed with mine, I sang to my father-

for the very last time.  

The last 2 1/2 weeks have brought IT, the ugliness of grief, all to the surface again-

the waking in disbelief, having to remind myself that this is reality now, and the bitter knowledge that I'll never again be enveloped in one of my father's famous "RRR" hugs this side of Heaven.  

My phone will never ring with his voice on the line again- when I'd answer, he'd always say, "Hey Tiff, Dad."  It always cracked me up that he'd announce himself, like I wouldn't know it was him.  

And above it all, the heartbreaking reality of my precious mama being without her person of 52 years. Sometimes I can't figure out what shatters my heart more-that he's gone or that she has to live without him.  

There are so many more words bubbling to the surface, words that may bring sadness and sorrow-or they may bring laughter and tears.  I just don't know yet.  But I know this-

I think I have to lay it all bare once more-

And I don't know if I can endure that again, but I'm not certain I'll survive this if I don't. 

I will tell of the kindnesses of the Lord, 

the deeds for which he is to be praised, 

according to all the Lord has done for us-

                                                                        Isaiah 63:7a

Dear Sammy,

your mama has been a mess.
Your little heart would be so broken today.  To see how much we have been struggling, how far we've drifted from each other, from Jesus, from who God created us to be.
Year 4 without you has just sucked. I feel like we've lived in some kind of weird vacuum, devoid of feeling, faith, and connection.
So, today on your birthday, my gift to you is this-
I renew my promise to honor God with how I live and I love, with the words I write, and in all that I do throughout each and every day.
I promise to make Year 5 of you at home with Jesus one that reminds me every day of the joy that you and Mercy wove into our family.
I promise to look at your pictures every day instead of hiding away from them.
I promise to sit with my Bible every morning, like I did when you were with me.  And I'll pretend that you are snuggled in right beside me, trying SO hard to quietly read your Bible when all you really want to do is talk to me and ask me a million questions.
I promise to find joy and laughter and light in the adventures we have as a family, carrying you and Mercy in my heart everywhere we go.
I promise to be the mama to Eva, Charley and Max that I was before you and Mercy ran ahead to Heaven, hiding God's Word in their hearts each and every day.
I promise to honor Daddy and be the Proverbs 31 wife and mama he deserves.

Today, my beautiful son, we WILL celebrate you!  We're going to look at your pictures and laugh at your videos, especially the ones where you act like a turkey and throw a fit.  We're going to the pool and the Sweet Spot, we'll ride our bikes, we might fly a kite and we definitely won't be playing miniature golf or going bowling, since you pretty much hated both of those because you couldn't win.  And Monopoly is also off the table, since throwing your cards when you didn't win that was quid pro quo.  Sweet child-you make me laugh just thinking of all the ways your giant personality invaded our family.

4 years ago today, I held you on your birthday for the last time, blissfully unaware that a mere 6 days later you'd be with our Savior.  I hold on tightly to that day, the memory of your sweet voice, your hands on my face and your little legs wrapped around my waist as I snuggled you so close on that morning, answering all your questions.



I love you, little man.  I miss you beyond infinity.
And my last promise to you is this.
I will choose joy. 

Through the praise of children and infants 

you have established a stronghold against your enemies, 

to silence the foe and the avenger. 

Psalm 8:3

I will choose Christ over the snares of the enemy.  

I will choose to love with abandon in the way both you & Mercy did.  

Every. single. day. 

Happy Birthday, my pocket baby. 

all my love, 

mama

It's kind of like expecting a deaf person...

to understand sound.
A color blind person to grasp what a rainbow looks like.
A barren woman to understand the magic of a baby in her womb.
Or an atheist to understand that denying the existence of God because you cannot physically prove He exists is a bizarre kind of reverse faith, based on the exact same type of principles as believing He exists EVEN THOUGH you cannot prove it.
Trying to explain parental grief is pretty much just. like. that.  
Unfortunately, I've learned immeasurably more than I care to about parental grief in this last year and 12 days.  12 things for 12 days into year 2...

1.  Until you awake every morning to 2 of your kids, in a box, on your husband's dresser-Praise Jesus, you cannot, will not and should not understand how we feel.  I don't want you to try to, because it's simply awful and since we love all of you, we'd rather you just continue to pray for us and love us in the unconditional way so many of you have through the twists, turns, ups and downs of our new reality.

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness.  We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with wordless groans.  

Romans 8:26

2.  Wow-my kids were, and are-infinitely loved.  As are we.  Truly, we are blessed.  Even in the midst of this trial, His tender mercies are abundant and true.

Children are a heritage from the Lord, 

offspring a reward from him. 

Psalm 127:3

3.  I absolutely love to hear about my kids.  I love to talk about them, laugh about them, recall their antics and remember the incredibly neat little people they were.  Some of the greatest blessings in the last year have been photos, videos and letters of memories we have been blessed to receive.  Please send and share them if you have them-it's such a balm to our hearts.

I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in truth.  

1 John 3:4

4. I can't make peace with the death of my kids.  Ever.  But I can be a part of making a powerful statement for wisdom when using recreational vehicles.  And that is exactly what our family is doing through The SaMercy Fund.  Tirelessly, so many have already worked every event to promote our cause, and I've not planned a single one.  Or even been able to attend one.  Every one of the fundraisers has generously been scheduled, promoted and executed by family, friends and even those who have never met us or our kids.  They simply want to serve and lend a hand and heart wherever they can.
Every single penny that we raise helps us to begin partnering with the people that use and sell these vehicles to help raise awareness and to promote safety through educational classes/seminars/training.  We absolutely cannot sweep this under the rug and allow it to be considered a consequence of a way of life when people die or are horrifically injured because of such powerful vehicles.   Every human life is precious to God and it is our intent to honor that in helping to reduce these casualties.

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as for the Lord and not for men..

Colossians 3:23

5.  Grief is quite possibly the most powerful and debilitating trial I can ever imagine going through.  It has forced me to be selfish, to blot out the world at large and to realize that tending to my shredded family is the one and only priority I can have right now.  And for a fixer, a gift-giver, a glass half-full bleeding heart and one who always tries to see beyond the surface, that has been a bitter and hard pill to swallow.  It has revealed more about my character, my weaknesses, my soul and my connection to Christ than I could ever have imagined.  And it has opened my eyes to immeasurably more about the true character of God.
Never does he ever, leave or forsake us, no matter how hard we try to sever the cord when we are bitter, broken and hurting, He NEVER leaves.

Though one may be ovewpowered, 

two can defend themselves.

A cord of three strands is not easily broken.  

                                                                      Ecclesiastes 4:12

6.  Guilt is a clever little devil.  Or should I say, work of the devil's hands?  Even though I was nowhere near my children the day they died, I have lived the last year blaming myself in some way, shape or form.  I know it's not my fault, but to live each day knowing that I somehow failed to protect them?  I don't know if my son felt pain, if he knew for just an instant how horrible his injuries were and that he was almost dead?  Did he cry out, call out or know he needed mama?  Or was he just instantly gone?  I don't know if Mercy cried for me, or if she knew what had happened.  I don't know if she saw her brother, dead and broken, and if she knew she was going to die too.  And I don't know if she felt the crushing pain that must have filled her tiny, precious little body.  That, my friends, is a guilt and shame that burrows deep into the recesses of the soul and plants a very bitter root.

...Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.

1 Peter 5:8b

7.  Praise the Lord, kindness and grace are abundant in this world.  Simply put, there are just a tremendous flock of people who are exceptional in the way they serve, treat others and give grace.  It is my heart's desire to send a personal thank you note to each and every one of them-not because I'm a proper etiquette nazi or because I feel obligated-but because I truly want each of them, from the butterfly tattooed woman on the beach who found us by way of our church and sent us a letter, to the strangers who have sent meals, to the loving ladies who knit prayer shawls for each and every one us, and finally the incredible friends and family who have picked us up when we fell and keep falling, to know what a treasure it is to be held in their hearts, prayed for, and loved by each of them. In truth, that is just a tiny smattering of the blessings we have received.  Honestly, I still sleep with the very first prayer shawl I received, every single night.  But I know that not one of those people expect a thank you note, a pat on the back or acknowledgement.  Each one served out of the wellspring of love God placed in their heart.  Period.

Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. 

Galations 6:2

8.  Sadly- guilt, anger, judgement, selfishness and expectation are also dismally plentiful.  I wish we had made it through this year with a minimum of cuts and bruises on that end-unfortunately, we did not.  Harsh, thoughtless words have been spoken, judgment has been handed down and relationships have potentially been destroyed.  There is fault to be had on all fronts and only God can close and repair any of those gaping canyons that now exist.

Indeed, there is not a righteous man on earth who continually does good and never sins.  

Ecclesiastes 7:20

9.   Healing-For reasons I'll try to explain without sounding like a jerk, it is the buzzword that makes my hackles rise, my knickers twist up and my hair catch on fire.  Maybe it's because, to me, it says that I'm expected to return to the person I was before, that I'll be whole again and that the wounds left behind by the absence of Mercy & Sam in this life will be rendered cured.  That may not be what it means when people say it, but I tend to be a bit on the prickly side with that concept at this point in my life, so I'm just being honest.
His healing of my heart will be filling it with His presence and peace-and because I'm flawed and human-well, that means it may take a while.
A precious friend had her daughter go home to Christ 10 years ago on June 20.  Her "healed" heart still hurts, she still grieves and she still longs to hold her baby again.  BUT, because she has held onto Christ like a lifeboat in an epic storm, she has found joy & purpose again, she truly does laugh, and she adores the life she still has with her living children-I KNOW she does, because it radiates on her face ever single time I lay eyes on her!  So I'm holding onto that lifeboat too and praying for rescue.

And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.  

John 14:3

10.  It must be incredibly hard to be my mother, my father, sister, brother, friend, husband or child.  No one really knows what to do, what to say, or how to help.  As time wears on, I wish I could say that part got easier, but it some ways it's harder.  Time has passed, we've walked through all the firsts, we go out in public, we do things normal families do-but Mercy and Sam are still dead, we are still hurting with every breath we take, it is STILL too quiet in our home, I still look for them around every corner, and we never know when a new wave of grief will knock us down.  When it seems like we're normal on the outside, I think it makes the "how" of loving the inside of us through this grief even more complex.  

Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights.  No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was. 

Job 2:13 

11. On the flip side, it's a tremendous weight to be the parent of 3 hurting kids and really have no idea how to help them, how to make them feel safe again in a world that damaged them so deeply, and how to teach them to live THIS life to the fullest extent of God's will and plan for them.  How do we teach them to be bold, be brave, be Christ-like?  How do we honestly teach them how loving God IS when we can't explain why He'd allow us all to hurt like this?  How do we answer their why questions?  Making decisions for their lives carries with it an overwhelming sense of fear and worry, far beyond anything I ever experienced before June 11.
And for my husband?  How can I be the wife he needs me to be when I can't fix, mend or soothe the things that hurt him in the deepest part of his soul?  The incomprehensible loss of his children and the dissolution of his family.  I can't make any of that better, I can't change the past or people, and I certainly have no inspiring wisdom that springs forth about how to plan a future that is so drastically altered.  So into His wisdom, I have to lean.

In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.  

Proverbs 16:9

12.  Finally, and most importantly-
Transparency is the greatest gift we can share with one another.  From the moment I could put my fingers to a keyboard again after the day our world imploded, I have vowed to keep our story out there, to beg all of you for prayer and to shine a light on the fact that while faith is messy, complicated, and HARD-It is the only way we can ever survive THIS life.   Your burdens may be different than mine, but each of us is walking in our uniquely fitted shoes-and those shoes desperately need God to keep them on our feet.
SO-I'll never be the quiet grieving girl in the corner, the stoic, yet broken-hearted matriarch, or a pretender that grieving while loving God is easy if I just give it all to Him.
I HAVE given it to Him.  I have laid it at His feet, sometimes with grace and sometimes with my teeth clenched and my fists ready to punch.  For 1 year and 12 days, I have done my very best.  And my best is all I can ever do.  HIS best is what will carry me through.

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with the Lord's holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ.  

Ephesians 4:17b-18

And as I just looked out my window for a moment,

2 pure white, busylittle butterflies flitted into view...
As if to say, "look at us mama, look at us!"
Our Father is just. so. good.

love,
clan mac mama

Unconditional and simply selfless LOVE-

It's who he is, woven into the fabric of how he lives, how he loves, how he serves, he IS love.
My husband, the man who God chose for me, the father of my children, he is my love, but more importantly, he is who God appointed to raise up our babies.  
From the moment he laid eyes on each of them, he was entranced.  He adored and continues to adore them with every part of his heart and his soul.  Even as he grieves Mercy & Sam, he continues to selflessly give to Eva, Charley and Max.  He is determined to lean into Christ to sustain him as he lives and more importantly, he is determined to teach our children the same.
I wish I could find words that eloquently speak of him, that give you the picture of the man I see.  But there really aren't any-you just have to witness it.  And that's what I do, every day of my life.  I, and my children, are truly and unequivocally blessed.
Today will be a dichotomy of joy and sorrow, happiness and tears, grieving the life before and trying to find the life ahead.
One year ago today, my husband woke to his first Father's Day without 2 of his children-
it's the last of the firsts.
Today, to honor him,  I choose to share each of the most important firsts in our life.
And the last Father's Day he shared.
And the very last picture of our complete family.
I pray that today he will find joy in Eva, Charley & Max, be comforted by the memories that sustain us and find hope in the future that Christ promises us.

Charles, my love-
The Lord bless you 
and keep you;
the Lord make his face to shine on you
and be gracious to you;
the Lord turn his face toward you
and give you peace.  
                        Numbers 6:24-26  

Eva & Daddy

Eva, Daddy & Charley 

Max & Mercy joined the party!

Sweet Sammy-the best plan I never knew God had.

Celebrating the father he was and is-June 2014

Our last family photo

June 7, 2015

What was it like when I was born, mama?

That was the very last question I remember you asking me...I can still here your sing-song voice asking me as your arms were wrapped around my neck.  On your birthday, at just 5 years old, you asked me what it was like when you were born.  Honestly, I was speechless for a moment, then I whispered...
It was so quiet.  Just mama, daddy, the midwife and a corpsman.  You whispered your way out and it was just. so. quiet.
Such a contrast to the chaos a few hours before when we almost lost you-
I fought so hard for you, you know.  You did know.  I can still feel you squirming and shifting in my dry belly, hearing my whispers and knowing I was praying for you.  And you heard me, you listened and finally, after 2 days-out you came, silently sliding into the world and seamlessly into our family.
I called you my pocket baby.  I had fought so hard for you, it was incredibly hard for me to be away from you.  I took you everywhere, just like you were in my pocket.
I never expected you, you know.  Your dad and I, we would talk about having another little one, hoping we'd have a little brother for our charming mini Max-man.  But, God had other plans and he blessed us with you far sooner than we even thought possible.  Just 8 1/2 months after Max & Mercy came into this world, you became a twinkle in our eye and captured our hearts.  I laughed like a maniac when that stick turned positive, your poor dad-he cried.  Here we were, 4 kids under 6 and another on the way.  Talk about a kick in the proverbial pants!  We went from 2 to 5 kids in 17 months.  And what a journey that was.
You scared us in the womb, and I didn't know until you were born that you were truly ok.
You scared us coming out.
You almost drowned when you were 3...
then you started asking me about Heaven...I wonder if you saw Jesus then.  If you got a glimpse of that glorious face.  I still believe it was Jesus who opened Charley's eyes that day and made her see you under all that water, struggling to make your way up to the air.  You weren't breathing when Tolly pulled you out-and I thought then that it could have been the worst day of my life, never imagining that the worst day would come and I'd lose not just you, but my baby girl, my Mercy, my sweetness and light.

My goodness, you loved Jesus.  Your little boy prayers were such fragrant offerings to God and sweet music to my ears.  Hearing you recite our ABC scriptures and your Awana verses are some of my most treasured moments.  The joy on your face when you finished your Awana book-priceless.

I sure do miss singing to you.  I wish I could recall all the songs I made up when rocked-I remember thinking that I should write them down, that with all the memories a family makes when there are so many of you, I wouldn't have enough room in my brain.  And then I got busy and now I can't remember...and my heart breaks a little more.

We put your chair in Charley and Max's room.  We rock in it every night when we pray and tell you & Mercy that we love you to the moon and back.  Some nights I can barely whisper it, my soul hurts so deeply.  Charley always yells it, positive that the louder she is, the better you can hear her.  Max only makes it to that part about half the time-you know how quickly he falls asleep!   Eva kind of stares into space, I think wondering if you can really hear us.  And your daddy, well, sometimes he can say it and sometimes it's just too much.  

I sit on the back porch a lot now.  Even when it's too hot and my fingers are sweating, I love to be out here.  Your wind chimes are here and when I hear their sweet music combined with the wind and the sounds of all my birds, I swear I can feel your whispers and your sweet little hands caressing my face.  You used to take my face in your hands and make sure I was looking at you when you talked to me-I often wonder if you knew I needed to see you, really see you, because you weren't going to be here long enough...

I believe you knew.  You & Mercy.  Somewhere in your little spirits, you knew your time was short and the Holy Spirit gave you much to share, much to do and faith beyond your years.  I'll never understand why God allowed you to leave us so soon, but I'll never question His love for me.  Because without it, I'd never have had the privilege and honor of being your Mommy.  He knit you in my womb, he created your inmost being, he chose daddy and I.  He CHOSE us.  What a blessing, an extraordinary gift from an extravagantly generous God.

I'll also never believe that it was part of His plan for you & Mercy to die the way you did.  I'll always believe He had greater plans for you both, but free will and a fallen world destroyed them.  And he knew, He knew the end from the beginning and He still let us have you, hold you, love you.

Still, He will bring good.  By his mercy, He will bring joy from mourning and He will restore what the locusts have eaten.  His word promises us that redemption, promises us the restoration of the perfect world He created for us in beginning.  And until then, I'm clinging to the vine of His strength, His Word and His truth as I know it to be.  He will strengthen our family to fight the enemy from further destroying what He has given us, He will be our strong tower.  It is by His might that we will bend the bow of a fallen world and fight for the Gospel even when every ounce of our souls wants to give up.

It is God who arms me with strength and keeps my way secure. 
He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;
he causes me to stand on the heights.  
He trains my hands for battle;
my arms can bend a bow of bronze.  
                                             Psalm 18:32-34

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.  
                                            2 Corinthians 4:18


Cupcakes for breakfast, pictures to hold...
close in my heart until I am old.
Even so old that I may barely see,
my sweet little boy will always be with me.
So many questions my little man asked,
answering them was quite a task.
Quiet, too quiet, it is here today,
we should be celebrating some special way.
A jumpy house, a pool or a park,
it's where he'd want to have his lark.
Frosted and Dairy Queen, Rucker John's too,
Treats and sweets is what he'd want to do.
So today, as my tears cover my face,
I'll think of you in your heavenly place.
And pray that in all that I do and say,
I honor you on your precious day.

The beginning-June 4, 2010

 Finally, June 5, 2010

Your 1st birthday-June 5, 2011

Always in the water, where you loved to be!

Your first cupcake!

 

Your 2nd birthday, June 5, 2012

We celebrated with the Blue Crabs, pool time at Nana & Papa's and Haley's graduation!

And a little putt-putt on Father's Day!

Your 3rd birthday, June 5, 2013

Parks, ice cream treats and nighttime basketball!

Your 4th birthday, June 5, 2014

Crazy time at Jump-in-Jax, capped off with park fun and cupcakes with all your best pals!

 Your 5th birthday, June 5, 2015

Scooters, legos, hexbugs and a pool party...

Sweet boy, mama misses you so much.  I'll forever hold these moments and every minute I was blessed with your life close in my heart-waiting with bated breath until I can hold you once again.
Happy Birthday in Heaven, my pocket baby.   I'll bet you're holding His face in your hands and asking so many questions-and He's holding you right back and answering every one of them with grace, light, beauty and truth.

all my love,
mama

I wasn't supposed to be there today.

I sat in that auditorium 1 year ago this weekend, bittersweet tears falling from my eyes as I fully realized that in just a few short weeks, we were leaving.  Pulling up stakes on the Marine Corps traveling road show and unexpectedly starting over yet again.  This day, these hours, precious laughter and tear stained moments, would be my girls last recital with the dance family we claimed as our own.  Wistfully, Corry and I sobbed while Maura and Casey graced the stage together for the last time before Maura headed off to Meredith.  My heart filled and then broke as Sydney floated across the stage to Cinderella to honor her dad, Jay.  And finally my heart just crashed when Jessica danced a heartfelt farewell to her dance sisters who would soon go off into the world to find their way.
Every moment of that precious day, we spent in that auditorium, from early morning to late in the evening, touching up lipstick, adjusting costumes, chasing down little people and pinning up buns.  Mercy popped up and disappeared, flitting from big girl to big girl, cartwheeling with Kaylan and conning Samantha out of her lunch.  Hugging Nana Cathy and chattering away at Papa Freddie.  Plopping herself down squarely on Kevin and convincing him to let her video, photograph and just generally do whatever she wanted.  (He always was a sucker for that little bean-loved her from the moment he set eyes on her the week after Charles deployed.)  Insisting on using the last itty bitty byte of space on my phone to video Abbie in her very first recital.   Hugging and mugging for one last dance picture for our Halls Creek crew.
For some reason I couldn't quite pin down, I felt compelled to watch her dance.  To not take a single picture or even attempt a video.  I set the stupid camera down and just sat there in that front row next to Corry and stared, captivated by the precious happiness that radiated from her graceful little soul.
I just wanted to see the joy on her sweet face when she flitted across that stage, when she tried to take charge of any of the tinier dancers who couldn't quite keep up, when she realized Mommy was watching and so proud of her hard work!
And her brothers & Charley-they were remarkably patient, sitting through not one, not two, but THREE recitals for their sisters.  (Mind you, there may or may not have been some electronics and a Dairy Queen bribe involved, but they were AWESOME.)
And I never dreamed, not even with the unease that been settled in my spirit for the previous few months, never once did I dream that this would be the very last time I would watch my daughter dance on a stage.
And I didn't even take a picture.  Or if I did, I simply don't know.  Because I just can't bring myself to upload that last memory card.  Of the last 2 months of the life I'll never know again.  Of the life I just never believed was truly mine.
I could never really wrap my brain around the fact that I could be that blessed.  We had a beautiful home, 5 healthy kids, my husband was finally reaching a career goal that he had strived long and hard for-
Maybe I knew that the other stupid shoe just had to drop.
And drop it did.

We visited the Pentagon last year on Eva's birthday.  It was the first time I had set foot in it since before 9/11.  Once upon a time, it's hallowed halls had been familiar to me, as I had been honored to serve there as a tour guide while I was on active duty in the Marine Corps.  A beloved childhood friend, who is now a Colonel in the Air Force (yup, I'm really that grown up,) took us on an impromptu tour.  As we crossed from one of the inner rings to the outer one that houses the memorial chapel for 9/11 victims, Jimmy pointed out the burn marks that still scar the building from the impact of the plane and the subsequent explosion.

Simply put-that's pretty much what every day life is like for us.  Not just for me, but for Charles, for Eva and Charley and Max.  The plane has crashed and burned-the fire is out, the damage has been assessed.  And when it's all said and done, the burn marks remain, scorched and blackened scars that will fade with time but will always and forever carry the shadow of the massive implosion of a once light-hearted family.   Constant, painful reminders of what is lost and won't be regained until we pass from this temporary, broken home into blessed eternity.  Whispers of a lonely little Max who finds tragic joy in strangers thinking his sweet pal LG is his twin...

A precious friend asked me today if I ever had a good day, or even just a good hour.
I honestly didn't know how to answer her.
Because I don't know.

Do I laugh?
 I do.
Will you see a smile on my face?
Fairly often, I'd say.
Do the hugs of my children and the sound of their laughter bring me unspeakable joy?
Without a doubt.
Do I enjoy a good meal and find delight in the company of true friends and treasured family? 
Indeed.
Do I love my husband today more than I ever thought I could love another human being?  
Unquestionably.  
Do I spend time doing ordinary, every day tasks that once upon a time seemed so mundane and for which I'd give my left arm to be doing for ALL of my children? 
Certainly.
Do I thank my God every day and beg him for mercy to get through this life, living His will, not mine?  
I do my absolute, humanly flawed best.

Yet I find that now, every one of those things is colored with a lens that, no matter how much I polish it, how hard I try to clean it or how much I adjust it, it just can't be clean or clear or unblemished.

I find myself haunted by the visions of what might have been, what should have and what will never be.  I watch my daughter dance and realize that-
we. were. NOT. supposed. to. be. here.

Still, here we are.

Precious memories were shared with friends and family today, tears mingled with joy as I watched Eva grace the stage once again.  Hugs from so many- tender touches, kind words, special memories shared.  As Heather and I watched Eva, I thanked God for this cherished woman who was not only Mercy's very first teacher, but who has ceaselessly given my Eva the gift of both her time and her love to honor Mercy and Sam.  Seeing our true brother in Christ, Brian, race around, dividing his precious time photographing not just his beloved girls, but my Eva. And finally, when Miss Christy wrapped me in her arms and let me just breathe and cry, I was completely convicted that I was just where I was supposed to be at just that time.   And for one simple extraordinary moment, I envisioned what it would have been like to see Mercy finesse the stage on pointe with the inate elegance of her enchanted, dancing soul.

I'll see you again someday, my precious and tiny dancer.  I'll hold you in my arms once again and hear your beloved voice whisper-"mama, watch me!"  And because it will be Heaven, I can sit with Sammy's soft hand wrapped in mine, all the while watching you dance your heart out for your beloved Savior- The One whose spirit lived in you from the moment you were conceived, Whose love you shared with all who crossed your path and Whose life consummately sacrificed gave you yours forever.

Yes, my sweet friend.  I do have joy-
He is bringing beauty from ashes and will restore what the locusts have eaten.  And the prowling lion will never have my family, for we belong not to this world, but to the heart and soul of Christ, from whom all blessings flow.  

Keep dancing, Mercy, keep dancing in my heart and in my soul.  I love you, baby girl.  

...that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.  

Lord my God, I will praise you forever.  

Psalm 30:12

With His love and only by His Grace, we all still stand. 

love, 

clan mac mama

a lightning rod in perpetual storm...

in short-
I seriously thought my husband got struck by lightning today.
Not kidding.
And I honestly felt like I wouldn't even have been surprised.
That's really what our life has felt like for the last 9 months.
A merry go round of sadness, frustration, fear, pain and complete crap-a** circumstances.  One hurdle after another.
This week-my Marine managed to bust himself up again-pretty good this time.  Double break in his collarbone...cue the surgeon, please.
There are no words to describe the fear that seized my soul when I answered the phone to what I though was his call and it wasn't him on the other end-I couldn't even let his coworker speak, I instantly peppered him with questions, namely-
"WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME ON MY HUSBAND'S PHONE?"
To his credit, he remained 110% Marine Corps calm in the face of my harangue-and thankfully, save for the extremely painful injury of a collarbone broken in 2 places, my beloved man was ok.
Mostly.
As ok as you can be when you're hit with another blow in the absolute WORST year of your entire life.
I wish I could say I was that stoic and strong caretaker that I'm supposed to be in the face of yet another wall we hit going 90 miles an hour...
I think I'd rate this one an EPIC FAIL on my part.  Which is exactly how we ended up with him outside in a raging thunderstorm (that was parked squarely on top of my little house,) searching for our spare house keys because we couldn't find the car keys as we raced out the door to his pre-op appointment.
You see, it's like this.
9 months ago, my husband answered the call that would forever alter our lives.  The call that would destroy our dreams, shatter our family as we knew it, shred our future as we dreamed it and pulverize the peace in every corner of our souls.
And since that moment, it has felt like we keep hitting a brick wall going 90 miles an hour at least once a week.
Please don't take this as a "poor me, I'm so downtrodden," kind of post.  Take it for what it is.  An honest look at the tornado that ripped my home from it's foundation and dumped my family in a foreign land.  One where we don't really know who we are, how we got there or how to get back to where we came from.
I rapidly alternate clinging to The Word and my Savior with episodes of gut wrenching, wall beating, lung shattering moments of anger that literally set me ablaze.
And I'm just so. bloody. tired.
I'm tired of people who give lip service to Christ, whose actions truly speak SO MUCH LOUDER than their words, or lack thereof.
I'm tired of tossing and turning, tormented by lack of sleep and troubled by fitful dreams when sleep finally comes.
I'm tired of watching my oldest daughter pretend that she is JUST FINE.  Because someway, somehow, she got the skewed idea that she should "just focus on the happy times" and it'll all be OK! Because Mercy & Sammy are with Jesus, so what on earth should we be sad about?  SERIOUSLY?  Of course they are with Jesus, but that doesn't make their death and absence from this life any less awful to deal with!  
I'm tired of my sweet son CONSTANTLY pestering me to watch TV first thing in the morning because he is so lonely and morning was his time with them.  It was that precious time when the best of the mischief happened and the bonds that anchored him to his twin and his brother were knit together so tightly.
I'm tired of seeing my innocent little Charley bean rapidly morph from patient and kind big sister into a selfish and manipulative shell of herself, just trying to find a way to fill the void that her heart constantly feels.
And I'm tired of ceaselessly hitting that brick wall.
Now, let's be realistic here.
A shady contractor, lack of sleep, severely strained relationships, some stinky health issues for both Charles and me, abundant car troubles, broken a/c, yet another sinus infection and a pervading sense of doom don't make me Job.
And I certainly can't claim Job's all encompassing and unwavering faith.  But I can sure as heck tell you that there is a tiny corner of my soul that is in awe of Job in a way that I can't fully put into words.
Because friends-the character that Job displayed in the face of constant and great adversity is so far beyond my comprehension.  I wish, with every part of my heart, that I could display even one ounce of the faith that Job lived.
But, honestly, I'm just so tired.
So, tonight I ask for your prayers once again.
For my hurting husband, our precious children and for our weary and world battered hearts.
Please cover Charles in prayer as he undergoes surgery tomorrow.  Please cover me in prayer as I shoulder both of our responsibilities.  Please cover our children in prayer as they make yet another adjustment in an ever changing landscape.
But, simply and most importantly, pray that we know these simple truths...
But He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." 
                                                                                    2 Corinthians 12:9a
I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. 
                                                                                    Phillipians 4:13 

There is absolutely NO way I can get through even one more minute without these truths tattooed on my heart and in my soul.

I pray tonight that each of you knows the simple truth of the unending and merciful grace of Christ, that you would know how loved and cherished you are by The Father, and that you would understand the blessing that each of your prayers is in our lives.

In His grip and only by His Grace,
clan mac mama

There are holes in the floor of heaven…

and their tears are falling down... 

I should have known they’d be with me.  Someway, somehow, They always are.  

  

It’s my first visit to Tennessee since “the accident.”  

My first trip without my other half.  My anchor.  My Charles.  

The other anchor in my life, my other sweet Sammy, rode shotgun today, sniffling, sneezing and snotting the entire 11 hour trip.  She sat beside me, heart pounding, anxiety mounting, as we treacherously inched through a raging rainstorm with one headlight, fog, mist and almost zero visibility.  She hunched beside me as I gripped the wheel and I prayed over and over and over again-

Jesus-please. 

Jesus-be near-

Jesus-cover us in your grace, your protection, your mercy.  

Jesus-PLEASE.  keep them safe-keep them covered-guide them to safety.  

Because in front of me were 2 of the 3 children I have left on this earth. 2 of my precious babies were in a car, in front of me, in some of the  most dangerous conditions I’ve ever driven in.  

2 OF MY 3.   

I simply couldn’t breathe.  

And when we got here, to her home, the one my kids had never seen…it hit me like a freight train.  Mercy and Sam were never physically here- 

and yet, here they were.  On every wall, in every room, on almost every surface.   bits and pieces and memories. Everywhere.  

And it hurt.  Like you wouldn’t believe, it stung.  My sister, their aunt, not me, their mom-seemed to have more ways to remember them in her home than I did.  Little pictures dotted almost every surface & wall, butterflies peeking out, superheroes smiling, a lovely little corner of their things.  

So I escaped.  I hopped in the car, bound for the grocery, as usual.  Tears poured down my face in the blur of the night...and the radio that had sat silent the entire day- it suddenly beckoned me.  

Seek me. 

Search me. 

Find me.  

And I did.  

For the first time in at least 10 years, THIS. SONG. PLAYED.  

‘Cause there's holes in floor of Heaven…

and her tears are pourin' down. 

That’s how you know she’s watching’

Wishing she could be here now...

And sometimes if you’re lonely

Just remember she can see

There’s holes in the floor of Heaven

And she’s watchin’ over you and me

So I had another hissy fit-(to which I firmly believe I am completely entitled.)

I told Him again, for the thousandth time, how outraged I was.  How completely infuriated I was with His lack of a miracle for my babies.  How they don't belong in Heaven in yet, THEY BELONG WITH ME.

This is not supposed to be my life…

Yet it is.  

So I thirst like a withering vine in the desert for any tiny reminder, any little “sign,” any shred of a memory or moment.  I cling desperately to the little things.  

Like songs from decades ago-songs that remind my lonely heart that my precious little people are still and will always be with me, that He is with me, walking beside me, carrying me, drying my tears and gently reminding me that they are NOT gone, they are just waiting for me.  

In Heaven. 

Dammit-I'm stuck here, I'm left here, beseeching Him, actually... BEGGING HIM...for the peace to trust His voice, hear His whispers and fulfill His plans.  

I’ll wait here, fighting with all I am for what is left of my family and believing in His promises.  

I’ll wait here, safe in the knowledge that He created me knowing I would live this life and He will walk/carry/drag me through it, one single moment at a time.  (He might well be doing some dragging right now.) 

Quite simply, I know it’s not a coincidence that I write- in His infinite wisdom, He knew it would help me find my center someday in a painfully topsy turvy world.  He knew I’d use it somehow and He knew every one of you would read it.  Because He. knows. us.  He knows every choice our lives will be directed by, so He creates us to survive them if we fall into His arms and beg Him to show us the way.  He KNOWS we are fatally flawed, He knows we will fall, and He loves us in spite of it all.  Because He created us to serve Him for the number of days we will walk this earth.  And He knew my babies would be in His care far too soon-

For you created my inmost being;

You knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;

your works are wonderful, 

I know that full well.  

My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, 

when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.  

Your eyes saw my unformed body;

all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.   

                                                                                                                                     Psalm 139:13-16

Which means that I must remain squarely in His care. 

So I will open my eyes and my heart WIDE-alert for every little reminder, overwhelmed with the love my sister and each member of my family has poured out over us and covered us with as we faced our first season of our Savior without Mercy and Sam.  

I will study and memorize every picture I see here, I will turn every corner and see their faces.  I will hold Sammy's blanket and Mercy's skirt, I will inhale what remains of their scent and be thankful.  That they will never be forgotten, not ever.  And that when I am too weak and weary to build my little remembrances-my family will do it for me, holding me up, anchoring my heart and preserving my loves.   One memory, one memento, one picture at a time.  

With love,
clan mac mama