My son is not a number or a statistic or only a memory. He is integral to my story, blood of my blood –part of my life.

I lean into the Word of God and trust in, rely on and affirm the victory of Jesus Christ. But I still GRIEVE.  

 I walk in two worlds–on earth and in heaven.  I savor the sweet joy of the “now” but ache for the even sweeter joy of the “forever”.

Joy and sorrow both dwell in my soul and I cannot reveal one and hide the other.  I may laugh and cry in the same moment.

So many people think grief grows smaller over time.  But that’s not it at all.  Grief occupies exactly the same space in my heart.

Why is it, when we need them most, many friends-and I mean really, truly FRIENDS-just can't hang in and hold on?

A letter to family and friends that can help them understand (a little) what it's like to face holidays after child loss.

Change is hard on everyone. But it's harder if you don't have important conversations.

It's normal that Dominic is less and less a part of his friends lives over time. But it still hurts...

Shame tells us we are unworthy of love and belonging and that is simply a lie.

When taking care of others means NOT taking care of myself, then in the end, I’m of no use to anyone

Child loss is hard. Child loss is not "curable" or "solvable" and it's not helpful to pretend it is.

When I swallow my doubts instead of speaking them all I do is poison my own heart. Lament is a biblical response to deep pain.

"God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our consciences, but shouts in our pains." ~C.S. Lewis