Tuesday, December 8, 2015

Christmas Days: The Good, the Bad, The Worst

Facebook post, December 1, 2015:

We only got two Christmases with our Libby. I can't figure out if that makes it easier or harder than if we'd had more. Probably both. She was there in infancy and again as a toddler and now that's it. Last year she was fascinated as she took it all in. But there's no part of Christmas where we can look and know, that was Libby's favorite. No tradition, except putting things beyond her reach, that really feels like it belonged to her. It makes it easier to do Christmas as usual, maybe because it's just out of habit. But even though it hurts like crazy, I still want to feel like she's part of it somehow. Which maybe means we need new traditions, even if they are bittersweet.

I'm finding myself more in the Christmas spirit, at least most days, than what I would have expected. These are the good days. I'm into the hustle of shopping, the gatherings, and our family's Advent traditions. Because we only had the two Christmases with Libby, I'm finding it manageable to go about the routines of the season. It's easy to stay busy which is very helpful. But I'm definitely no Super Woman. Doing stuff is still hard, so I'm learning to prioritize. I've apparently given up cooking. This is not popular with the family, as their priorities seem to differ from mine. Around here, Progresso soups are the taste of the season. Our decorations this year are much simpler. Friends surprised us with gussying up our house while we were out of town over Thanksgiving. What an amazing gift that was to come home to! I had bins of decorations that I was still planning to put out, but after a couple days with no one asking for more I realized I didn't have to do more. How exciting! I'm realizing that the things I thought were essential are not necessarily important to the rest of my family. My mom was right again, simpler is often better. And I am giving myself the gift of peace (or something closer to it) by not running myself ragged trying to do more than I can.

I tend to question these good days. Early on they made no sense and for some reason I wanted a rational explanation for them. I certainly felt guilty about them, as if my misery was the only measure of my love for Libby. (Mind you, I also felt guilty when I had my bad days, because then I was making things so much harder for my family. So really, there was just no winning.) I have (mostly) learned to be grateful for my good days, to realize that they are a gift. If I had had to predict how I would react to the death of one of my children, it would not look like it has looked over the past five months. It would look like me not getting out of bed, watching Netflix, and eating ice cream. God gave me something else (most days at least). And yes, it's for my good and my family's, that they can have a mostly-functioning mom and wife, but it's also for His greater good, for something that goes beyond the little circle of our family, our friends, and even our community. We know that God works all things for good (Romans 8:28). Yes, even this. It doesn't mean that I need to come to a place where I can say, "Oh, I'm glad this happened." It doesn't even mean that I have to accept that all the good will outweigh the one really bad thing. I ache for my daughter daily. But Jesus is where my Hope is. I have Hope because I know I will see her again. And I have Hope because our God is a God of redemption, He is the only one who can bring good from this horrible thing. It doesn't make the horrible thing okay, but I need to see good come from something like this. I need to see beauty coming up from these ashes. 

And make no mistake. There are still bad days. Thankfully, I don't have too many of those. I do have lots of bad moments, minutes, and hours. And a good day is often filled with lots of emotional roller coasters. A memory, a sensation, a song, and suddenly there's an ache in my chest and the tears are threatening to spill. But I can handle the bad days. I can handle crying. I've gotten pretty good at controlling it, because while it's not good to shove our feelings away, who really wants to stand sobbing in a thrift store becasue "Shut Up and Dance With Me" came on the radio? Well, I've done it and I don't care to do it again, thank you very much. The good part about the bad minutes and hours, is that I still feel there's some semblance of control over my emotions which means there's still a chance of turning things around. All of this feels a tiny price to pay for having gotten to be Libby's momma. 

But then there are the Worst Days. These are the ones I dread. The thing with the Worst Days is you can't control the crying. It needs out and I'm not strong enough to stop it. I had a Worst Day last Thursday. It was a couple days after I'd written the Facebook post above, so I had in my mind that I needed to find ways of incorporating Libby into our Christmas. See, the thing is, she is there, she's all around. She's just sprinkled over everything, with no real Libby-concentration in a certain bite. I know if we'd had even one more Christmas she would have had a different presense in the season because we would know more about what she loved from the holiday. But Christmas is full of traditions, so I thought I needed one for Libby and I thought I needed it now. So I decide that I was going to buy a special stocking for Libby and have a friend embroider her name on it and we could write notes to her and put them in the stocking and you get the idea. Well, I started crying in the first store, and I kept trying to control it but was pretty much failing. Why? Well, I was probably short on sleep, and grief and exhaustion are a horrible combination. And then the obvious element of trying to buy a stocking for my Libby girl who won't be with us for any more Christmases. All good reasons for a melt down. The thing is, we do hard things every day and I don't have meltdowns every day. Grief is like walking through a mine field, never knowing when something is going to set me off.

I eventually gave up on the shopping. It was just too hard and I could feel myself falling apart. So I went home and I got in bed and I put on Netflix and ate chips. (No ice cream in the house. Rookie mistake.) We had learned very early on how important distractions were, anything to keep us not solely focused on the pain. I was in agony and I just wanted that feeling to go away. I cried until it became physically painful. And then I cried some more because I just couldn't make it stop. 

Unfortunately, a life of bed and Netflix isn't a great long-term grief plan. Especially since I still have these two great kids to take care of. So like a good mom, I pulled myself out of bed and went to pick them up from school. Luckily they had counseling right after school, because when I am having a Worst Day I like to share that with those closest to me. I'm snappy, irritable, impatient, and apathetic. During their sessions I colored, which I've found to be a quick, successful distraction for me. It always helps calm me down when things start getting churned up inside. But on Worst Days, the benefits don't last. Nothing but the bad mood lasts. So I went home and tried to make my husband as miserable as me. Poor guy. 

That evening I was supposed to go to a craft night a sweet friend had organized and he was basically insisting that I go. Smart man. Now normally this is something I wouldn't  miss for the world. Doing crafts (my favorite!) that I don't have to organize (even more my favorite!) with My People (no stranger danger: favorite!) would be a dream night on any other occasion. But as I dreaded the thought of having to go to this event, I knew I had reached a new low, one that concerned even me. I didn't want to go, but I know it's good to sometimes do the things I don't want to do. And once I've done them, I'm usually glad I did. I had some time on my hands and a wish to turn this day around, so I turned to my Bible. All day long, the refrain from "Hallelujah" by Heather Williams had been running through my head, mainly the lines, "Jesus, please come, please come today." And that's what I wanted. I wanted Him here. And not just in a help-me-get-through-this-day way, but in a hey-wouldn't-today-be-a-good-day-for-You-to-COME-and-bring-us-all-to-heaven way. (And I write that not as a cry for help or as anything super-dark. I was just feeling so low that only Heaven seemed big enough to take away that kind of pain.) I often journal song lyrics in my Bible and I'll try to match them to fitting verses. In this case the most fitting thing seemed to be to just turn to the end of my Bible and journal there. There was no planning or sketching. I just grabbed some markers and got my letters down. Then the chalks, because there's no better way to add lots of color fast. Another pen to scribble my thoughts at the moment. Here's a bit of what I wrote. "Today I don't want any calling. I don't want a purpose. Days like today I just want this world over. I just want Jesus to come back. I want away from this pain. I don't want to be responsible for anything. I want the burden lifted. Thank you, God, that not every day is like this. I couldn't handle it, my family couldn't handle it. Today has felt hopeless. I've been discouraged. I'm just praying I wake up better tomorrow." 



And that's the thing. As awful as a Worst Day is, I know the next day will be better. God knows how weak I truly am and He has never given me two Worst Days in a row. I went to the craft party. I was not good company, but I participated. Until I couldn't anymore, because I guess that's just too much to expect on a Worst Day. I left in tears mid-craft, because on Worst Days the tears just can't be contained, even if you're doing your favorite thing with some of your favorite people. On the Worst Days you just need the day to be over. So I went home and I took my first sleeping pill in over four months, because I just needed it to be tomorrow. "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5) Here's a Bible verse that has brought on new meaning. Grief is always hardest in the evenings, as our bodies, our emotions are depleted and there is nothing left to manage the burden of our sorrow. As I look on my Bible page I'm filled with Hope. I have Hope because I know He is with me, I know He grieves with me, and He understands my grieving heart better than anyone. I have Hope for myself, because even on my Worst Day I was able to color in some bright yellow on the corner of my page, my confidence that there was something better coming.

Thursday, November 26, 2015

Beauty for Ashes

This isn't the blog post that first started rolling around in my head. I was playing around with a more acerbic title. Something like, "Buying Your Daughter's Urn." I know. There was a story there and that story will still be here, but over the last few days, God has made it so much more, has given me another gift in the reminder of His presence. There are really two stories here. One abour buying Libby's urn and one about three words that have been following me around these past five months. Before there was no real connection between these little stories, but how God has brought them together has filled me with awe, again, at His love and awareness of me.

I'll start with what might have been called Buying Your Daughter's Urn, because when you lose your little girl, these are the things you suddenly have to think about. I had wondered, in spare moments over the years, whether I would want to be cremated or buried. I never really came to any conclusion. Pros and cons on both sides, but either way, you're still dead. I had thought that I should ask my husband what he would want for himself, but that seemed too difficult, so I skipped that one as well. I figured we still had a lot of time to figure these things out. Not once did I ever think about what I would do if it was one of my kids. But when we were suddenly having to decide what to do with Libby's body, there was no inner debate. Cremation was the way to keep her at home with us. It was in the worst way possible, but it seemed a small comfort over having her far away at a cemetery. And after having spent my life moving on a regular basis, I couldn't handle the thought of one day just leaving her here, a plane ride away. Maybe these decisions shouldn't matter so much. I know in the core of my being that she is in Heaven and is doing awesome. She is my one child I don't have to worry about anymore. But when we lost Libby so suddenly, I just needed to have her at home and close, in whatever way I could.

There's a little nook in the hallway where all our bedrooms are,
so she still has her little space.
I didn't buy Libby's first urn. The easiest way to handle that would have been to buy something when we were at the funeral home making arrangements. The problem there is that everything is crazy expensive and just downright ugly. Angels and lambs and chintz. Just No. So my best friend Erin and her husband went to Target and bought a simple gray canister with a wooden lid. It was meant to be temporary, but I liked it and figured it would be with us a long time.

But then three weeks after Libby died, Kurt and I flew to Montana to visit my grandparents. It was a trip I was supposed to have made with Libby. (You can read about it here,) Montana has always been so special to me. Libby is actually named after the town where my mom grew up and where I would spend summers with my sweet grandparents. Our first morning in Kalispell a craft fair full of Montana artisans opened in the park across from our hotel. One of the first booths we came to had this gorgeous pottery I just fell in love with. I made a purchase and we moved on. But suddenly the idea struck that we should ask this artist, Theresa Gong, to make Libby's urn. She was lovely and kind and we were able to pick a number of different Libby-themed elements to include in the design. I had known that when it came to finding Libby's permanent urn that I would just "know" and that was exactly what happened.

The second part of this story was not something I ever thought would be part of a bigger, blog-worthy story. Just a little footnote in my own mind, something recorded in my Bible for my own benefit.


The day after Libby's funeral I sat in the church service weeping as the band played a song called Beauty for Ashes by Chris McClarney. My heart just broke some more and I prayed that those promises of God would be fulfilled. I had ashes in the most real, literal sense of the word. And I yearned to see beauty come from this great, gaping pain. I needed assurance that there would be some beauty in the long-term, big-picture of things. Beauty for ashes. I know it's not a fair trade by any means, but Jesus clearly isn't concerned about things being fair. We have the cross as evidence of that. That's His promise to us in Isaiah 61:3. To give us a crown of beauty instead of ashes. And we all have, and will become, ashes. There's only one real source for Beauty.

So these are the words that have been following me around. After Libby died I was using bible journaling as a way of working through my grief, engaging in therapeutic creativity, and mostly as a way of spending time with God. These verses from Isaiah have been on my jounaling to-do list almost from the beginning. But the close-to-my-heart verses are often the toughest, because I want to get them just right. I want the art to be beautiful, I want the verses to be as special on my page as they are in my heart. That's a lot of pressure! And that's why these verses don't get done for months at a time.

There were so many nudges from God. The verses would turn up in devotions, the song kept popping up at church. I looked on Pinterest to get some ideas. And I did get ideas... they were just all beyond my artistic capabilities and I was so scared of messing it up so I did nothing. The song played at church again this past Sunday. On Monday I was working through an amazing book/devotional called Writing in the Margins. One journaling prompt gave four choices of verses to dig into. Without looking in my Bible I eliminated three of the choices for various reasons and turned to the last option. Of course it was my beauty for ashes verses, Isaiah 61:1-6. But this time I decided to face it, to just start writing in my Bible. (I was immediately planning that I would find a beautiful image online that I could print on cardstock and put in my Bible to cover my notes so that there would still be beauty on this special page of mine.)

When I'm teaching people about Bible journaling, I always tell them to write the date on their entries. (I also tell them that the art is not important, it's the time spent with God that counts. If only I'd been practicing what I preached, huh?) Well, as I went through these 6 verses line by line I felt like I needed a stopwatch to record the minutes and seconds of revelation. Almost every line seemed to hold personal significance. I could feel my soul just filling up, excitement as I realized how these words were from Him, to me, for this very moment. Looking back, I'm not really sure why Libby's urn (which hadn't even arrived yet) was on my mind at all, but when I came to the line "to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes" it suddenly hit me. Libby's urn was our literal beauty for ashes. That would be the art that graced this page of my Bible.

But I was only halfway through my verses and God wasn't quite done yet. I kept making notes and saw through His words how He has already been so faithful in keeping His promises to us, for giving us so much hope and comfort. "The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me," connected me right back to Acts 1:8, "But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you and you will be my witnesses." I journaled this page early on, because this is what I felt had happened from the moment I found Libby in the pool. God's gift to me was the presence of the Holy Spirit, and now He was reaffirming that gift to me. "That He may be glorified," this is what we pray will happen through Libby's story! "Strangers shall stand and tend your flocks." Oh my goodness! This feels like what we've been living! So many friends and loved ones have been caring for us, but the role of strangers has been shocking and humbling, and beautiful (again, out of the ashes). As I studied the Word, God just kept unfolding things for me, as if these words written thousands of years ago were just meant for me. [Please know this is not how my daily devotions normally go. (And daily is the ideal, not always the reality.) I struggle to stay connected. I'm just seeking and needing to find and He is there waiting for me when I put the time in.]



By the time I was done with these six verses, I knew I had met God on the page, in the margins of my Bible. And I realized that there was nothing more beautiful to me. There was no artwork that could match that. When I look at this page I am immediately taken back to that connection I felt with God, a beautiful assurance of all that He has promised each of us. Libby's urn arrived the next day and it is beautiful. We opened the box as a family. We haven't transferred the ashes yet, and those will be some difficult, real moments. I'm going to put a small picture of her urn in the upper right corner of my Bible page. God makes such big promises to us and He keeps them all. And then He cares enough to give us extra, sometimes in an urn by a Montana artist who used the gifts God gave her to give us more beauty for ashes.

Here are some photos of Libby's urn. The sword and shield represent the meaning of her name, God's promised armed warrior, which was a surprisingly fitting name for such a little girl. The moon and stars that Oma would take her out to look at. The birds that she and Daddy would see at the bird feeders. The la-los (flowers) she loved to go and pick from neighbors' yards. The lizards she would chase around our yard. Water at the bottom, because despite her ending, she spent her life loving all things water.

Friday, October 30, 2015

The Ache of the Details


Even with Halloween upon us, it's the images from this little Easter video that have been sneaking into my brain and breaking my heart this week. Her precious little pigtails. The little arm squeeze thing she does out of excitement. That beautiful, beautiful smile. 

It's so much easier to keep her general. I can do that and it doesn't hurt too bad. Or at least not as bad as it should. It's all those details, all those little things that made her so real, so ours; that's what makes me crumble.

Friday, October 16, 2015

Birthday Balloons



On Libby's second birthday, October 4, I woke up to the sounds of a downpour. Never mind that we had 200 balloons ready to launch or a trip to the beach planned for that day. When you live in drought-ridden southern California, you can't help but be happy about the sound of anything wet falling from the sky. Plus, Libby herself would have been thrilled with the rain, running out to jump in puddles with Max and Kaia until she got tired and would then just plop her diaper butt right down in the middle of one. So while I knew the rain meant we wouldn't be in the field as planned for the balloon release, I was content as I did my morning devotion to the sound of the rain. As one would expect in this part of the country, the rain didn't last long and we were left behind with a cool, gray day, which was a nice break from the high summer temps we continue to have well into October. We got ourselves ready, added jackets, packed the car, and headed to church.

Your daughter should be with her family on her second birthday. There's no way around that. Heaven is wonderful beyond imagination, and God's faithfulness continues, but even knowing these things does not take away from my human heart wanting my daughter here.with.me on her second birthday.

We were not supposed to be doing a party today. I had done the obligatory big first birthday party. Not so much because I wanted to, but because I had photographic evidence of doing them for Max and Kaia and didn't want my third child seeing such a blatant example of how the later children get short-changed. (Of course, now I am ever so grateful I did that party. I loved it, we have great memories from that day. I didn't know it would be the only party I would get to do for her.) No, I thought of second birthdays as the sweet spot between the first birthday and the third or fourth birthday. They haven't started preschool yet, so don't have a bunch of friends to whom to send reciprocal birthday invitations. They don't have a frame of reference for knowing how fun parties are and how many presents there can be. No, second birthdays are meant to be small, minimal effort affairs. A cake, maybe, a gift from a doting grandparent. You really don't need more than that. But instead, Libby is having a delightful time in heaven while an amazing group of friends here on Earth plan and execute all the details for a birthday celebration she is unable to attend. Because way worse than planning a birthday party is planning one for your daughter who died 15 weeks before she turned two. Emotionally and mentally I was unable to give much attention to the details of these events and I am so grateful for friends and a community who loved us enough to make this happen and then also came out to celebrate her, letting us know she is not forgotten, but still in the hearts of many. And you know what? I loved this day. I have wonderful memories from this day. The days before were heart-wrenching and the days after continue to be challenging, but in that emotional sandwich, I'm so thankful for such a sweet filling. Let me tell you about it.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Bible Journaling


September 8, 2015 Journaling Bible Community post




Ten weeks ago my sweet, spunky, 20 month old daughter died in a drowning accident. I had started Bible journaling some the month before, but now it has become the perfect and necessary distraction and focus as my family and I go through this time of grief. I journaled this verse because this is what I think happened to me the day of her accident. The Holy Spirit gifted me with this level of faith I had not had before. It was for my benefit, for sure, but I've also seen him use it to witness to others.

The Number of Her Days

September 26, 2015 Facebook post

So God has just been quite busy showing up a lot this past week. What a gift those reminders are and how they encourage us! For some time I'd had the idea in the back of my mind to calculate the number of days that Libby had lived here on earth. It kept getting pushed back because it wasn't something that important. But then last Friday night I was messaging with a sweet friend who mentioned the 420 precious days she had had with her son Owen and that brought it to the forefront again. So the next day I found myself waiting for Kurt sans my cell phone (note to self: the more significant things in my life don't usually happen when I'm holding my phone) and I had to find some way to busy myself. I grabbed an old receipt and started tallying Libby's number of days. As I added up the final numbers, my breath caught in my throat. 629 days. That number is in my email address, it's the time my alarm is always set for, even though I could easily afford an extra 6 or 11 minutes. It's my birthday, June 29th.

I just kind of stared at the number for a while. Sometimes in this season of grief I wonder if I'm maybe trying too hard to find significance out of every little thing, constantly trying to find purpose and reason for what's happened and what is happening. But then sometimes I think you just need to give God His due! This one was just spelled out so clearly for me. Libby was (and is!) our gift! But I know she is not that just for me, or even for our family, that's what she has become for so many of you! I still hear stories of the impact that little girl of ours is having on people far and near. (And what a gift those stories are! What a treasure to be getting a small glimpse of the greater works God is up to!) 


So with that thought in my mind, it's changing how I'm approaching my daughter, my grief in this season. Because what do you say when you receive a gift? You say, "Thank You!" I'm reminded to come with a heart of gratitude. Because Libby, through God's perfect plan, has caused a tidal wave of goodness. For me personally, I am learning so much more about who God is shaping me to be and I have never felt God's presence more strongly. Some days He is just filling me up so much with His love and joy, there's no room for that deep despair that can be a valid part of our grief. That statement is not accurate for everyone who grieves though, and it's not even true within my own family. So many ups and downs, always without warning. But for where God has me right now, I am so thankful. I have the emotional and mental capacity to be there to take care of my family. As much as we hurt, we are also able to acknowledge the beauty God is bringing from these ashes.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Montana Healing


July 16, 2015 Bible study post


My husband and I are going to Montana today. My grandparents are ailing and my sweet grandma is on hospice with dementia. Nothing is imminent, everything has been painfully slow. I had booked this trip earlier, planning to bring Libby with me. Now, instead, I'm going to go and bring my sweet Grandma Libby's photos and tell her to go home and be with my girl. I'm dreading it. My heart breaks just thinking about it. But I feel I need to do it. Please pray for us on this trip. But please pray especially for my kids, Max and Kaia, while we're away. I feel so awful leaving them now, while things are still so raw. They've got wonderful, loving people taking care of them, so that's not the concern. We just never know when the grief will strike them hard. Pray that God will just fill them with peace and comfort through the weekend and that He will give their sweet caregivers the right words and actions as needed. I know this is all so very possible for Him! Your prayers are so appreciated.

The Power of &

August 28, 2015 Facebook post



Two months today since our little girl left us for a place so infinitely better. The sadness is constant, the tears will start spilling without any warning, but we are also doing better than I would have expected us to be doing at this point. We are finding God in the &. When we can feel joy & sadness at the same time, that joy comes from Him. Without Him it truly would be only sadness. It's also because of so many of you who are praying for us. If you ever think your petitions on our behalf are in vain, please know that those prayers are making such a difference in our lives! Our words of thanks are so small in comparison to what we have received, but our hearts are so full of love for each of you who have lifted us up in prayer, brought us meals, blessed our home, or shared your gifts with us. How blessed we are that God ordained to put each of you in our lives, to walk with us on this journey. I hope that someday, in some way we will be able to return these many kindnesses. In the meantime, thank you for showing us so beautifully how to love one another.

Saturday, August 1, 2015

The First Two Weeks




On the evening of Friday, June 26, 2015 our sweet and spunky daughter Libby drowned at home. She was rushed to the ER where they were able to restart her heart. From there she was transferred to the Children's Hospital. But the prayers for a physical healing were not going to be answered in the way we thought best. God, who we felt so closely present through every minute of this ordeal, had a grander plan. Our Libby died at 1 a.m. on Sunday, June 28, 2015. She was surrounded by so many friends and family. She was 20 months and 3 weeks old. She was feisty, inquisitive, independent, funny, compassionate, and loving. She adored her big brother, Max (10) and her big sister, Kaia (8). We all adored her right back. Oh, she was so loved!

In the time since Libby's death we've ached and hurt, fought and rejoiced. So many ups and downs! And when a family is grieving, you have to go through it individually and as a whole. We have certainly learned a lot about this new way of life we never wanted. But through it all, God continues to be present, continues to reveal Himself and glimpses of the greater  plan He has in store for us. That doesn't make losing Libby okay and we know His heart breaks right along with us as we grieve. But He is using her life to touch so many more people, and isn't that something all parents wish for their children (and even themselves)? That their lives will make a difference, that the world will be a better place because they were in it. Libby's life may have been short, but she has had a huge, lasting impact on our family, and we have seen so much evidence of the difference she's making with people who knew her or even just heard about her.

While we were in the hospital, social media was a real blessing. Large groups of people could be kept up-to-date by me or someone else. One of my sources of comfort at night when I couldn't sleep was reading the messages of love and sadness, encouragement and prayer. It was a surprising buoy that supported me by hundreds more people than could have happened otherwise. Thank you to all of you who have helped keep me and my family afloat, wherever you are. Here are some of the updates I shared of our journey, in chronological order, starting at the beginning:

Facebook post, June 27, 2015: I don't have a lot of time now, but thank you for all your prayers. They are felt and they are humbling. God has been so good through all of this, his faithfulness evident. Recovery is not the miracle we'll be getting tonight, but I know God does miracles and has other miracles in store for our family in the coming days, weeks, months. Right now please just pray fervently that she can be an organ donor, that would give us much comfort and is not a given in the current circumstances. Thank you for continuing with your prayers!!!

Facebook post, June 28, 2015:



This is the verse I was grasping for at the first hospital and the words that have brought me the most comfort since. Since the beginning of time God knew Libby would be and that these would be the number of her days. What a wonderful and gracious God that he would let her be ours for each one of those precious days.

(I had started to do some simple Bible journaling just one month before Libby's accident. This entry was done in the early morning hours when I couldn't sleep. I sat and read Facebook messages of love and prayers and I got into art and the Word and it was well with my soul, I found peace in those moments. This was the last journaling entry I would do in my "old" Bible. After this one, for some reason, I just couldn't add anything else.)



Facebook post, June 29, 2015:




God could not be in this with us more. A dear friend just found this on her bookshelf where it had been sitting for over 10 years. Words just fail me. Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

And look what someone found inside the book!


(A friend commented that if we looked hard enough we would probably find Kaia's name too. :))


Facebook post on June 29, 2015: Thank you all so much for the birthday wishes today. It was a surprisingly good day, which I had not expected. I was constantly surrounded by loved ones who cared for me and my family with the amazing gifts God had given each one of them.

Call it mother's intuition, peace from God, but I remember driving to CHOC in the ambulance on Friday and I knew Libby wasn't going to make it. Even then I said a prayer asking that she could die on June 28. With Kaia's birthday on the 27th and mine on the 29th, sweet Libby would just be nestled in between us and we could celebrate her heavenly birthday along with our earthly ones. I hoped that in the years to come these three days would be a celebration for us. What's amazing is we actually got small bits of celebrations on all three days this year, which I would have never fathomed possible. Further proof of God's enduring love for us.





 Somehow on the evening of June 28th we were able to gather friends and family to go to Build-A-Bear to celebrate Kaia's birthday. I thank God for whatever He put in us that night to make that (barely) tolerable. Because when you are turning eight, and you have just lost your best playmate, you need some good friends and some big distractions. Your little heart just can't handle that much heartbreak.

Facebook post on July 4, 2015: A couple of people have asked about whether we were able to donate Libby's organs and I thought I'd share a bit about our last night in the hospital with her.

Even though I've always been a strong supporter of organ donation, the idea of donating Libby's didn't hit me until late Sat afternoon. We immediately got the ball rolling, but found out quickly that we were up against the clock. It typically takes about 24 hours to go through all the steps to make an organ donation happen. We probably had three hours at best. But all the staff knew how much we wanted that to happen for our little girl, and they made it their mission to keep her body going so donations could be approved and arranged (none of this was causing her any pain). The organ team brought in extra of their best people, trying so hard to work against the clock, late into that Sat night. But eventually we had to accept that her body just wasn't able to go on anymore and we needed to cease our efforts.



If she had been able to donate her organs she would have immediately been carted away to an operating room to begin the very time-sensitive removal procedures. But instead, God gave us time to say goodbye to her. The heartbroken nurses and doctor lovingly removed tubes and wires and cleaned her up and we all got to hold her and talk to her. Our extended family was there in the room with us. The window to the adjoining room showed a space full of the people who love us and Libby. Our small group was there, Kurt's men's bible study group was there, other friends as well. They continued to hold vigil for us into the early morning hours as we said our goodbyes. As we held her, we were sharing some of our favorite Libby memories and we were actually able to laugh in those moments, remembering her antics and the times we'd had together as a family of five. It was yet another one of the holy moments God had given us in those past couple days, to be able to celebrate her life as we were so completely surrounded by the love and prayers of some of the people closest to us.



Part of the reason I'd wanted the organ donation to work was purely selfish. I wanted to someday meet a person who was literally carrying a small piece of my daughter inside themselves. I wanted a family of a small child to be so grateful that Libby had lived because it meant that their sick child could now be healthy. I wanted her life to have made a lasting difference. But God's plan is perfect. Her organs were not needed that day but that last hour our family had to be together was so holy and precious, I know that was His gift to us.



And after this week, where I have seen her story reach around the world and touch people, where friends and strangers are realizing the glory there is in God's plan and faithfulness, I am no longer concerned about her legacy. The book of her life may have been a short one, but it was a great story and we are already seeing how her life is now continuing on as it intertwines itself into the stories of people near and far. We will keep telling her story and invite you to do the same. To God be the glory, forever and ever!






Facebook post on July 16, 2015: There's nothing like a crisis to either break a family apart or draw them closer together. Thankfully, God has been drawing us closer to each other as we learn how to do life without our Libby girl. Last week Kurt and I celebrated our 14th anniversary. How thankful I am these days for this great man that God saw fit to give me, knowing we would have to be going through this dark time together. I wanted to share with you the beautiful words Kurt wrote for his eulogy. My sweet husband, with his fear of public standing-in-front-of-people, spoke so beautifully on his daughter's behalf. So in love with this man.

I am Libby’s father, Kurt, and I want to thank you all for being here.

Last Sunday, the day Libby went to the Lord, Pastor Jim Miller mentioned the church as the arms of Christ and I understood without a shadow of doubt the message he conveyed because our family was living it out. We were being gathered in the warm embrace of those very arms and drawn in close to the body of Christ. The love and support has been unwavering, unrelenting, overwhelming and fearless, much like my daughter Libby. From the time this tragedy unfolded to the present, Christ’s presence has been constant.

He has been in our midst through a group of men who hold a bible study in a bar, a small group “doing life together” and their small group cousins, close friends, as well as my fellow special agents who performed their most special operation of all, standing watch over us all.  They were all gathered together in a hospital emergency room or a pediatric intensive care unit, holding us close until Libby departed this world, surrounded by the people she loved most and held dear to the end.
At our home a group of women from iMOMS and women’s bible study worked long hours with the quiet fervor, reverence and perseverance of cloistered nuns (I have a Catholic upbringing so some of you will understand the allusion). They lovingly blessed our home with cooking, cleaning, fresh decorating, and love. As Erika’s sisters have said, “They make me want to be a church lady.”
All the faith, love, and hope continues to be a reassuring presence and an ever-constant reminder that we are not alone, we are not abandoned, and we are not forsaken, for in this broken world Christ is embodied in the church, and the church is holding us in its arms. I’d like to sum this up with a quote from Jerry Sittser’s book, A Grace Disguised, "Remember blood is thicker than water but faith is thickest of all”.

Personal note:
I want to encourage you join a small group a bible study or become involved in one of the ministries here at Glenkirk or whatever church you call home. Go out and touch someone’s life as Libby has touched so many lives. Go forth today and celebrate, because that’s certainly what Libby would be doing. She was our little firecracker, so tonight, and in the years to come, always remember her and God’s faithfulness when the skies light up with fireworks.