Every bottle of perfume always ends up on the floor

I am revisiting the Mary and Martha situation. John 12:1-3:
     Six days before Pesach, Yeshua came to Beit-Anyah, where El`azar lived, the man Yeshua had raised from the dead; 2 so they gave a dinner there in his honor. Marta served the meal, and El`azar was among those at the table with him. 3 Miryam took a whole pint of pure oil of spikenard, which is very expensive, poured it on Yeshua's feet and wiped his feet with her hair, so that the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.  

Martha (aka Marta) makes a meal to honor Jesus. Yes! And then Mary (aka Miryam) takes out the perfume and anoints Jesus' feet. What is remarkable to me is the combination of service and worship, and yet "the house was filled with the fragrance of perfume". I would assume the food Martha prepared wasn't just coldcuts and crackers; she probably spent all day baking and roasting and cooking. The house would be filled with the aroma of the wonderful meal. When Mary poured out the oil it would have overwhelmed the delicious smells of the meal.

Jesus did not despise the meal, and he did not praise the sacrifice over it, but the text speaks for itself: the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. Wouldn't it be wonderful if the fragrance anointing would follow us around, long after the food was eaten? That the worship offered through service would linger like oil, staying on our fingertips for days, blessing anyone we came into contact with?

I am thankful our L-rd values service and worship. He wants both and created all of us so differently so we can compensate for each other and learn from one another. So I'll continue in this service/worship wrestle until He returns.

One person who has encouraged my spirit in the last year is John Mark McMillan. Cassidy knows the chorus of this song, and it's become a bit of an anthem in our family. He has the perfect balance of lyrical and musical ability, so rare and so powerful. Blessings!

The 4th of Elul

Today, according to the Hebrew calendar, is Ezekiel's heavenly birthday. The gospel reading for this week, according to Kingdom Living, is John 11 -- The Resurrection of Lazarus.

This last week my inner Mary and Martha duked it out. By nature I am a doer; accomplishing tasks is easy and enjoyable for me. Assembling support letters and the details that went into that was a great job for me. Designing a web-site, writing our story and ministry purpose was fun. But if it's not on my checklist then it's hard for me. And spending time with the L-rd is one of those things that doesn't feel right to put on a checklist. As I was jogging today I listened to a song from Matt Gilman and the words of the chorus are: What are you doing? Where are you going? You were made to sit at His table.

This is not just for me folks. Go read John 11, because you were made to sit at His table.

2

I imagine him with brown hair and blue eyes, getting the eyes of his aunts and uncle. He would be tall already, like Eliana. Maybe he would be the out-going child, the one that smiles at every stranger at the grocery store, like Hadassah. Most likely he'd be kicking a soccer ball, the way Wyatt did at such a young age. And he would have been well cared for by his big sister.

But I can merely speculate about how Ezekiel would be on this day, waking up to unwrap his presents the way the kids do. I can hear his little voice calling from the crib, "Mama". And he would smile as he approached his high chair, seeing presents and balloons.

But this morning it's Cassidy who wakes up, by herself. She says, to me "Yay, Mama makes breakfast," and the excitement of a birthday barely hangs in the air, but it's too high for us to enter into it.

Two years ago this was a beautiful day. Nine of the best days as a family. Lots of kisses and smiles and poopie diapers. I wish we could go back...

Welcome Home

James Edward Sorell, 35, entered the Lord’s eternal freedom Wednesday, June 22, 2011 at St. Joseph Hospital in Kansas City MO, after a courageous nine year battle with cancer.

James was born in Iowa City, Iowa on May 8, 1976. James graduated from Manhattan High School in 1995. He obtained a degree in Family and Consumer Science from Kansas State University and two months later, married Sarah Franz on July 3, 1999. While he was employed by Bank of America, James attended Midwest Baptist Theological Seminary, receiving a Master of Divinity in 2004. That same
year, James and Sarah welcomed their daughter Abigail Joy and in 2008 their son, Asher James. Throughout his journey James relied upon his trust in God and Jesus’ grace. He continually encouraged others and pursued a deeper relationship with the Lord, even as his pain increased. A firm believer in community and discipleship, he was a true follower of Jesus.  

James is survived by his wife Sarah, and their children Abbie and Asher; his mother and step-father Cindy and Rick Dempster; his father and step-mother, Brian and Colette Sorell; his siblings and their spouses, his twin Jason and Holly Sorell; Melissa and Jerry Shinkle, Matthew and Fiord Sorell; Rachel and Derek Bembry; John, Becca, Richard, Sarah and Sam Dempster; and Danielle and Ryan Sorell; his grandmother Bonnie Beardsley, grandmother Catherine Derowitsch; as well as nine nieces and nephews.

James is now reunited in heaven with many beloved family members including his grandparents Bill
Derowitsch, Phyllis and Don Sorell; Aunt Ann Furrow; and his nephews, Wyatt and Ezekiel Blake.

We will celebrate his life at 3 p.m. on Sunday, June 26, 2011 at Christ Community Church, 14200 Kenneth Road, Leawood, KS, 66224. In lieu of flowers, please send tax deductible contributions to Christ Community Church, which will provide financial scholarships and support for people in Christian ministry.

The Cry By Patricia Juster

We just completed our first TENT season and I will tell you it was time well spent. The session I took was about intimacy with the L-RD and while it was challenging and emotionally stressful it brought a new understanding of intercession for me. A few years ago KL had some warfare women come teach and lead us through things for our own city. Before the women left they prayed over me, blessing me with an "Esther Anointing". Part of the prophetic aspect of it was that I would minister to women in my kitchen. I did not know what all of this meant and from time to time asked the L-RD about it. I felt it had something to do with being a good mother, teaching women to be strong and successful in their homes.

When my sons left I felt like I had been fired from my job. Going from three children to one seems like a demotion and I continue to struggle with how to adjust to this change. Two months ago a woman who I barely know said she saw Jesus anointing my head for this season. I don't think she had any idea what those words meant to me, but I've been wrestling through this. If I had known four years ago what the Esther anointing meant I wouldn't have been so excited about it. Looking back I can see His preparations for this, though.

The summer I was pregnant with Zeke we did the Beth Moore Esther study. In this dramatic story, after her cousin warns her that if she doesn't do something to help her people then another way will be made (and she will suffer because of her cowardice) she eventually gets to the point where she says, "If I perish, then I perish." There are so many things the L-RD calls us to lay down for His sake, and I thought I trusted (and hoped) enough that I could lay down my children. This has proved so much harder than writing it in a study book.

You see, there's a quote from The Cry that I originally wanted to post about. Then I got off on this tangent, which is how it usually works. It all ties in so powerfully (at least for me). According to Esther 4:16 all of the Jews in the city fasted and prayed for Esther as she requested:  "Go, assemble all the Jews to be found in Shushan, and have them fast for me, neither eating nor drinking for three days, night and day; also I and the girls attending me will fast the same way. Then I will go in to the king, which is against the law; and if I perish, I perish." She says "if I perish then I perish". But it's not until the whole community enters into this cry that she follows through with it.

I know that because of the prayers of this community and others around us Tom and I have made it through the last 19 months. It is through no strength of our own. I have wanted to bail so many times, to move and start over, as much as possible. And that means moving away from G-D. Some days He is the last person I want to talk to. I feel so weak, so empty, so sad most days that I want to forget about the deeper journey, the eternal purpose. And then I read something like this and realize, it's not just about me: G-D will stir the hearts of His servants to intercede and those who obey will stand before Him and cry out for those who are initially in despair and cannot or refuse to turn to Him (The Cry, 53).

If G-D could turn all the human hearts towards Himself, He would. But that's not love, and that's not obedience. It's because your hearts are turned towards Him that you have stood in the gap for us. I can feel those prayers, sometimes in my spirit, sometimes in the physical. It's a powerful and humbling thing to know that people are willing to spend time on their knees asking G-D to be present in our lives. I shake my head at it; I don't know what to do with it. I hope I get to see the look on His face as He smiles on you for your own selfless love. He stirred your hearts and you've answered and there are no words from my heart that can equate to the thanks I have for that. I have wonderful models of intercession that are pushing me along on my journey. I desire to be as faithful when He stirs my heart.

Thank You

I just read Sam's post, http://vanbuskirk.tumblr.com/ In the last year and a half my wrestle with this concept of praising G-D in all things has been unending. How do I praise him in the hard things? The really hard things? I struggle with trusting him in these hard times, thanking him seems impossible. I continue to pursue a relationship with him, but every time we talk I'm hesitant. What's he going to say? What's the next boulder he's going to throw in the way? Like I said, we're still talking, but sometimes I'm yelling. Perhaps I'm trying his patience as much as he's testing mine.

I am currently reading a book by Patty Juster called 'The Cry'. Her life is filled with challenges from the L-RD, including her youngest son going to be with the L-RD when he was 12. She writes powerful truths about who G-D is and how we as humans continue in relationship with him, even after we've been deeply hurt, by him or someone else. Jane Hansen Hoyt, in the Foreword to the book, writes "A desperate people receive supernatural intervention".

What does desperate mean? I think I've reached desperation, and some days it feels as though I've gone beyond it, but then he does something that brings me back to zero. During one of my sleepless moments at night I was talking with him and I realized I wanted to be loved by him the way I want to be loved by Tom. I want a gift. A gift that comes from him, not his faithful followers. Is this fair? Will he do this? Am I asking too much? Am I loving him?

So I'm analyzing our relationship. The areas where I need improvement will require his miraculous touch. The trust, the hope, the mirth, these are things that I pray he will shift within me. Just as he took my deep anger and hopelessness, I know he can move to bring me to a safer place. I will sit down more often and listen to him, and read about him and praise him for the gifts that come from him, no matter how they come (but I'm still holding out for my miraculous gift).

Which really brings me to why I'm writing this post. There is a scripture that I recently came across that resonates with me. It's a verse that we as a family can't get away from, humbling though it is: The oppressor of the poor insults his maker, but he who is kind to the needy honors him (Proverbs 14:31). The kindness we've experienced in the last three days (let alone the last 18 months) reminds us of our maker and those who have reached out certainly honor him. Whatever rewards look like in Heaven theirs will be great. Thank you.

Psalm 56:8

I spent some time this morning with a wonderful woman and she gave me this:

Sharon cross-stitched it herself and then looked up what some of the interpretations of this verse are. Here is one that resonates with me: A metaphor from the keeper of a vineyard who receives into his vessel the drops of the grapes pressed out by the winepress of affliction.

I shared with Sharon some of the wonderful things about Wyatt that she never got to experience. I wrote down this one from January of last year: Wyatt and Cass were playing with Playmobil (soldiers and police officers) and he made a police officer Jesus and another one was Peter [Peter was his favorite because he carried a sword in the Garden of Gethsemane]. All the soldiers were romans and everyone else were disciples. At one point he said, "All the soldiers died, but two got saved. Alleluia!" Then he told Cass to say, "Alleluia to Jesus!"

I rejoice that our sons say "Alleluia" to the King of kings, but I'm ready to stop crying tears of pain.

Bonhoeffer, The End

I finished reading Bonhoeffer's biography. I recommend it to everyone. It's written well, the content is interesting and his example is inspiring.

His last recorded words, before going to the gallows just weeks before the end of the war:

This is the end...for me the beginning of life.

Thank You

The last few weeks I have felt overwhelmed by our circumstances. The grief lingers about my heart constantly, at every turn a reminder of Wyatt or Zeke making my stomach sick. Tom is back to painting; his shoulder getting achy, his hours away from us long. Yuma bites and licks herself all day, or it seems that way. She looks at me so pathetically, like there's something I could tell her that would make her snap out of it. She is miserable and it's making me miserable.

But I know people are at work. We've received generous gifts of money, which have come in such a timely manner. Tom got his current painting job from a referral from Jessica, and that helped tremendously also. The people he is painting for are a very sweet and thoughtful couple, leaving chips and cookies out for Tom. That's a first.

People have put out the word for Yuma, too. We are in contact with a woman who loves German Shepherds and works specifically to rehabilitate them. This might be our last week with Yuma. It's sad to think about. We picked her out of a large litter, potty trained her in the snow, taught her to stay in the yard off leash, and trained her to talk. Kind of. She has been a part of our family for 6 years. We got her right before we became pregnant with Wyatt. And then all of this happens and she's so unhappy. We pray her new home will be a safe place for her and that she will settle in easily. Please pray we make the right decision for her. I just want her to be happy.

Two weeks ago I received an offer from Shutterfly to create an album for free, all I had to pay for was the shipping. I worked late into the night to get the book done since I only had a few days, but we now have a beautiful book containing our brief memories with Ezekiel. I am so thankful the L-RD gave me this gift. It was a blessing to go through the photographs and see what a beautiful child he is. In some ways in makes him feel not so far away. At least that's how I feel tonight.

Last night during worship we sang "Sovereign L-RD is my strength". I've been struggling with being strong, with persevering through this pain. Getting out of bed is hard for me, but I do it (however late it may be) because Cassidy is there waiting for me. I have no option to not be strong. Then last night I heard G-D say, Let Me be your strength. But how?

There are a few ways He is showing me how, but I will only write about one since this post is getting long and the other ideas need more time. I realize it is ok to keep going, to continue to do the things I did before the boys left. Like making challah. This is something I enjoy doing, typically, but after Wyatt went I couldn't bring myself to do it. So someone else did it for me. Every week Shea brought over a loaf of challah, and sometimes she even brought wine. And some weeks I didn't make a big meal for Sabbath, but we still had challah. And slowly I accepted that I could go on. I had to continue in this life, even though my hope is caught up in the next one.

Just last week, as I searched around for a new way to braid the weekly bread I came upon the Hebrew word for challah, "portion". I heeded the gentle reminder:
 My flesh and my heart may fail, but G-d is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Psalm 73:26
 You are my portion, O L-RD; I have promised to obey your words. Psalm 119:57
 I cry to you, O L-RD; I say, "You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living." Psalm 142:5
 I say to myself, "The L-RD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him." Lamentations 3:24

I will continue to do the things that are required of me as a mother, wife and friend. Now I can see how He wants to meet me in those things, to touch me through a conversation with Lauren, or a meal with Maasen, or a car ride with Cassidy. I am thankful for His physical presence.

There's more to this journey, this revelation of Him being my strength, but I'll save that for another night. Thanks for sticking with me. Through this post, through this life.

Every time you eat sweet challah think of little Wyatt, running through the house yelling, "Sweet Challah! Sweet Challah! Cassie, Mama made Sweet Challah!"

Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy

Who can comprehend how those whom G-d takes early are chosen? Does not the early death of young Christians always appear to us as if G-d were plundering his own best instruments in a time in which they are most needed? Yet the L-rd makes no mistakes. Might G-d need our brothers for some hidden service on our behalf in the heavenly world? We should put an end to our human thoughts, which always wish to know more than they can, and cling to that which is certain. Whomever G-d calls home is someone G-d has loved. "For their souls were pleasing to the L-rd, therefore he took them quickly from the midst of wickedness" (Wisdom of Solomon 4)...Death reveals that the world is not as it should be but that it stands in need of redemption. Christ alone is the conquering of death. (383-4)

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote these words in response to the deaths of several of his students during World War 2. He could not have known that he too would be called to the heavenly kingdom in a time in which he was most needed. The biography of Bonhoeffer by Eric Metaxas has lifted my spirit. As a German believer he struggled with the evil that surrounded him, the truths he held onto tightly and his responsibility as a follower of Jesus to stand for justice and defeat wickedness. He wrote many amazing things throughout his short life which I plan on sharing here. I hope if you have the money you will go out and buy this book. It has been one of the most encouraging stories I have read in a long time. This is not just because of my grief journey, but because of my faith journey as well. Metaxas is a wonderful writer, capturing the spirit of Bonhoffer while including the political and moral unraveling of Germany. If you can't afford to buy it, try your library, or the Tblake library. I'd love to share.

The book cover has a large photograph of Bonhoeffer on it, leading Cassidy to wonder about this man (much like the kids asking about Moshe Dayan). I've been telling her bits and pieces about him, and what he lived through and how much he loved G-d and did what was right. The other night while lying in her bed the two of us talked about Wyatt and Zeke, the usual missing them memories. We usually get back to the truth that they are in heaven, and one day we will see them again. When I asked her who they were in heaven with she replied, "Bonhoeffer".

Might G-d need our brothers for some hidden service on our behalf

in the heavenly world?

Not by Sight

Last week Big Cass informed me that Art Sunday was coming up. The idea for this day was to finger paint a canvas with a verse on it. My job was to come up with a verse. Immediately the L-rd brought to my mind "for we live by faith, not by sight." Now where is that verse found? B.C. (that's what Maas calls her) pulled out her trusty grey bible and turned to the back where all of the topics are layed out in an easy-to-reseach way. Faith. 2 Corinthians 5. And since context is king let's read a little more:

verses 1-11

We know that when the tent which houses us here on earth is torn down, we have a permanent building from G-d, a building not made by human hands, to house us in heaven. For in this tent, our earthly body, we groan with desire to have around us the home from heaven that will be ours. With this around us we will not be found naked. Yes, while we are in this body, we groan with the sense of being oppressed: it is not so much that we want to take something off, but rather to put something on over it; so that what must die may be swallowed up by the Life. Moreover, it is G-d who has prepared us for this very thing, and as a pledge he has given us his Spirit. So we are always confident - we know that so long as we are at home in the body, we are away from our home with the Lord; for we live by trust, not by what we see. We are confident, then, and would much prefer to leave our home in the body and come to our home with the L-rd. Therefore, whether at home or away from home, we try our utmost to please him; for we must all appear before the Messiah's court of judgment, where everyone will receive the good or bad consequences of what he did while he was in the body. So it is with the fear of the L-rd before us that we try to persuade people. Moreover, G-d knows us as we really are; and I hope that in your consciences you too know us as we really are. 

That whole section resonnates with me. Of course I long to be with Jesus and that's all the more reason to live this life according to his ways. I shared this with Tom Monday morning and he said, "This gives me hope." Hope is growing in us, in the middle of our sadness. G-d's word is new every day, it is meant for us at our various points, our different experiences.

I am thankful Big Cass is in our lives, helping Little Cass to appreciate art and creating. But I suppose more importantly I am waiting for the L-rd to open the door for BC to use her gifts to draw even more people to himself. As verse 11 says: So it is with the fear of the L-rd before us that we try to persuade people.

Happy Birthday, Buddy

I don't know what this day will look like for us. I spent a lot of time looking at photographs and watching videos. We have had so much fun, playing, learning, laughing. We don't know what G-d has in store for us, but our lives are so full because of Wyatt. Sometimes his little smile is what makes me cry, and sometimes I can smile right along with him. I hope these photographs bring you joy.


Such a joyful, tender-hearted and brave boy.

Click here to view these pictures larger

Grocery Shopping

Believe it or not I used to enjoy going to the grocery store. Wyatt and Cass would ride in a "cool cart", a fire truck or taxi or race car. I would give Wyatt the snack and he would be a good distributor of the food. When the food was gone they'd stand on the side of the cart, hanging on tightly and when I stopped to get something off the shelf they would jump down and scoop up imaginary trash and throw it in the basket. Sometimes Cass would miss an imaginary piece of trash and Wyatt the trash man would be sure to point it out to her. He'd ask for a piece of provolone whenever we neared the deli counter and when he saw the big display cakes on the counter he'd run over and look at the pictures of cakes in the book.

It's hard to say one part was his favorite, he seemed to enjoy every part of grocery shopping, but I know he loved riding the free horse at Hy-Vee a lot. They would take turns on who got to ride first and then climb up and push the button. He taught Cassie how to grab pretend arrows from their pretend quivers and then shoot the bad guys while riding the horse, sound effects and all. Even loading the groceries was fun because I would let them climb in through the back of the van. What a thrill.

Today Cass rode in a regular cart, her baby doll Lulu by her side. I don't like to push the big "cool" carts around, they're not very manageable and I prefer to talk to Cass while I'm shopping. Getting a firetruck and not having Wyatt in it would make shopping even harder. Cass got her free piece of cheese, "probolone", and I let her ride the horse twice since no one was waiting. She shot the Halloween spider balloon with her arrows.
I even miss him complaining about those gross Halloween decorations. There weren't many at this one, thankfully, but I'm sure he would be proud of Cassie shooting the spider balloon. Cassie and I talked about the coming rain as we rolled through the parking lot and when I opened the back of the van she climbed up and over the seat just like her big brother.

Love

I remember when we got pregnant with Wyatt I wondered where I would find more love in my life for another person. I loved Tom so deeply, was so amazed at our marriage and the joy I had just being with him that I marvelled at the idea of our joy increasing. But on November 4th it grew. And then seven months later we discovered we were pregant again and I once more wondered, will my emotional capacity increase just as it did with Tom and Wyatt? Of course when Cassidy arrived on February 13th my love increased and the pleasure of having two beautiful children made life perfect. When we found out we would have another child it was bittersweet; his arrival seemed the only joy we had after my aunt's unexpected leaving. It was a beautiful experience, having him arrive on Lauren's birthday. And my figurative heart grew with even more love.

It emptied as quickly as it filled. What happens to the love a mother has for her children when those children have vanished? How do you still love when you can't kiss or hug or squeeze those babies that grew inside, causing your heart to grow too?

I will tell you: just like a balloon, once full of air and then opened up and the air released my heart is now stretched out and filled with pain. Looking at pictures of our family, Wyatt and Cassidy holding our hands, my belly round with Zeke, I am not filled with love or joy, just pain and emptiness. And what will take away this pain?

There's a song taken from the Word that says: If I'm high upon the moutain, If I'm low down in the valley, I will give you praise.

How long must we stay in the valley?

He is faithful to His word.

Isaiah 61:1-3 The Spirit of Adonai ELOHIM is upon me, because ADONAI has anointed me to announce good news to the poor. He has sent me to heal the brokenhearted; to proclaim freedom to the captives, to let out into light those bound in the dark; to proclaim the year of the favor of ADONAI and the day of vengeance of our G-d; to comfort all who mourn, yes, provide for those in Tziyon who mourn, giving them garlands instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, a cloak of praise instead of a heavy spirit, so that they will be called oaks of righteousness planted by ADONAI, in which he takes pride.

No Strong Words

I won't put a happy face on the last few days. Colorado was hard and I thought perhaps coming home would bring some comfort. It hasn't. Wyatt isn't here. Three months have passed without him coming into my room in the morning, or riding his bike on the driveway, or jumping on the bed, or playing in the bathtub, or listening to story after story before bedtime. Life is still vastly empty and sad. He didn't go fishing with Rachel and E.J. He didn't pick wildflowers with Mima and Pop. He didn't listen to Big Cassie's stories in the van. He didn't squeal with joy when he saw Maasen after being gone for two weeks.

It seems the only thing I can do to stop the pain is read. Sometimes it's too hard to focus enough, though, and I start thinking: Wyatt. He's gone. That voice gets louder and louder until I can't take it anymore and I try to read again. Or do the dishes. Or... there's nothing I can do to get rest it seems.

And somehow we're supposed to face tomorrow morning and remember the last time we held Zeke. Precious and horrible, all in the same breath.

Happy Birthday, Zeke

 This time last year we had our third child, Ezekiel John Blake. In typical Tblake fashion he came quickly and "easily" as some might say. He was a large baby, 9 pounds and 2 ounces, but his arrival was a joy to us. He came just in time, with thirty minutes to spare he was born on Aunt Lauren's birthday and during Sabbath. Though his time with us on this side of life was short, we look forward to the years of loving G-d together.

Last night Sam pulled out his guitar and led the nine of us (Little Cass joined us) in a time of worship. He played several of his new songs, songs that reflect the pain and struggle we are going through right now. Songs that echo the voice of David as he ran for his life from King Saul. And as we all sang our lungs out, praising the One who created Zeke, I felt that eternal moment come closer. This has happened before, during worship times at Kingdom Living. My heart shifts to the heavenly and I feel the overwhelming joy that will come when I sing with all of my children before the Holy of Holies.

Here in Colorado the sadness that comes from missing our boys has been compounded by the fact that they aren't here to enjoy it. The reason we are here is because Wyatt is gone, and observing Zeke's birthday is a strange mix of sadness, emptiness and longing, with only a hint of happiness. That week that he was with us was the happiest week of my life. Since he's been gone there's been a deep decline in joy. Without Wyatt this life seems unreal. So last night, singing about our G-d and King, I felt what will one day be real. One day I will not long for anything because the longings in my soul will be met by the One who put them there. I will dance and sing with tears of joy instead of this pain and sorrow. I wait for that day...

At 9:15 this morning Cassie was still quiet in her room. I laid in bed and waited. I waited to hear the thud of her feet on the floor, the quick little steps and then the door creaking open, and slamming closed. I'm not sure why she closes the door behind her. Perhaps it is to keep Yuma off of her rug. Perhaps it is out of habit, like on the rare occassion that she would get up before Wyatt.

I tell fear to leave, I trust that Cassie is ok.

I wrote this down in my journal a week ago, to remember in the hard times:
I believe G-d is good. He will provide for me emotionally, physically, mentally and financially. I trust these things are true. I believe they are true. G-d took Wyatt; it was not an accident. It was His timing and His way. I will see Wyatt again.

The clock turned 9:20, those five minutes lasting hours, and Cassie came out of her room and crawled into bed with me.

missing

i miss touching him. i felt the same way with ezekiel. my arms feel empty. and cassidy is so kind about letting me hold her and kiss her. she gives the tightest squeezes when she hugs, but her three year old body is so different from his. i miss his long skinny arms and knobby knees. i miss his gigantic feet. i miss his blue eyes. i miss his spikey buzz cut hair. i miss the wax in his ears. i miss cutting his fast-growing nails. i miss his bloody noses and boogers. i miss his mile-long eyelashes. i miss his belly sticking out after a big meal. i miss his muscley legs. i miss his sweet cheeks and big lips. i miss his belly button, a little bit of an outy. i really miss brushing his teeth. and even here cass has been so kind; she used to brush her teeth on her own while i brushed wyatt's. now she lets me brush her teeth if i ask her.

so much is missing. the house is quieter, tidier, more boring. no lego ships, no swords, no apple cores sitting around anymore. it feels so empty.

thank you

Mornings are filled with pain. When I wake up before Cassidy I lay in bed and think about Wyatt. I think about how he would come in our room in the morning and ask me (or Tom) to get up and get breakfast. Sometimes, if my arm was hanging out of the blanket he would kiss the palm of my hand and then rest his cheek in my hand. I suppose it's because I told him it was a lot easier to get up in the morning with a kiss than with a whine.

I can still feel those cheeks.

Yesterday I helped Cass change her clothes for bed. She was standing up and I was sitting down and as I leaned over to pull her underwear off of her little feet she leaned over and kissed my head. It was so reminiscent of Wyatt and his tender ways. While Cass is more outwardly affectionate, Wyatt took advantage of little opportunities to show genuine love.

He would thank people for the littlest gift with such appreciation. My sister Sarah pointed it out, he would say, "Thank you, Aunt Sarah." The tone of his voice, the sincerity in his words, the light in his eyes, he felt real gratitude.

It reminds me of a line from a poem I wrote in high school: Those who are thankful are never thankless. It's so redundant, so obvious. Reading it now I see how young I was in my writing, but it's true. Wyatt was as excited about his Buzz Lightyear underwear as he was about his giant bow and arrow launcher. The picture of him with Tom from his little booklet shows such a huge smile. You can see the package of underwear opened in front of him. That was before he opened the gun with the bullets and scope and bow and arrow launcher.

He appreciated so many things, the mundane things and the extraordinary things. He was so grateful that the words "Thank you" were never far from his lips. At such a hard time in our lives I'm seeing the importance of being thankful for the big and the little things. Sometimes it's really hard, but I'm trying.