I never cease to be humbled by the beautiful--though pain-lace--stories I hear from fellow child-loss parents. Just received a note from a woman who lost her toddler son in an innocent but traumatic way that would trigger the mama guilt of any parent, no matter how unjustified.
Yet this mama continues to live the life God has given her to live--right in the midst of unspeakable sorrow. Read more>>
I had not seen my brother's friend David in 30 years, but in the wake of his passing, a handful of memories from our country childhoods came flooding to my mind, tempering my sorrow with laughter, unapologetic. Even in times of death—especially in times of death—the bright memories soothe our souls.
I introduce you to my brother and his friend, David Fetterolf. Read More
So grateful for Blaine Hogan and team, who did a beautiful job of capturing our story. And thanks to Willow Creek for sharing it--and walking alongside us so well these past eight years.
On the evening of a thank-you party for the launch of Colors of Goodbye, my oldest daughter Bethany presented me with a gift she had purchased on Etsy.
"I bought you something," she said, pulling me aside on the stairway as we headed to the car. She smiled her radiant smile and placed a small box in my hand. "You might find this fitting for tonight."
I opened the box. Inside lay a beautiful necklace made of two antique keys: one was a key to an antique wind-up clock and one was a key from an old typewriter. The typewriter key had been masterfully mounted onto the clock key, and a gentle bronze chain strung through its holes to form the necklace.
"The clock key reminds me of our childhood," Bethany explained, referencing the antique Gilbert clock on our mantel that had melodically chimed the passing of each hour of our kids' growing-up years. I had wound that clock once a week with a key much like the one in the small box now nestled in my hand.
"And the typewriter key is the '7&' key—which is our family's story," she continued. "We are the Vaudrey seven—and the ampersand represents how we we are living a both/and life."
Perfect! In one lovely Etsy search, my oldest daughter had found a gift that represents our family so completely: We are seven gives nod to the Vaudrey head count prior to my daughter's death. "Katie is gone, but we are still seven," Bethany was saying. Thank you, B. "And we embrace the both/and." Life without Katie—which has been an unimaginable loss—is still rich and joyful and beautiful. Yes. A thousand times, yes!
I lifted the bronze chain, slipped it around my neck, and hugged my girl. I make my living pounding away on typewriter keys but had never noticed the symbolism of the "7&" key. And now I will never forget it.
You may not be 7. You may be 3 or 5 or 1. But you can choose to be an "&." Each of us is invited to embrace the ampersand—the both/and of our lives. No matter what circumstances have been dealt us, our past is not the director of our future. Our loss is not the boss of us. We can choose to hit the 'shift' key and strike the ampersand.
Today is the official launch day of Colors of Goodbye—my memoir about navigating the loss of my child, rebuilding my life in a new, Katie-less normal, and searching to discover if joy can still be had, in spite of our loss. I’ve been deeply honored and encouraged by early responses to the book—and so many of you have asked how you can help. Well, here’s your chance!
We need more Possible people in our lives. I need to be a more Possible person. I have a pinch of Possible in me, but not nearly enough. I'm too quick to become rigid in my thinking, to follow the protocol rather than solve the problem, to see the barriers rather than the bridge.
Every time I face a crossroad, big or small, I try to be intentional about choosing “now”. Choosing to accept rather than deny. Choosing to let go rather than hold on. But at each crossroad, I first must fight a small inner battle. And every turn toward surrender requires some wrestling and then a moment of grief. It’s never easy to let go. I suspect it never will be. Read More
Hey friends, this is more of a short-story memoir than a blog. A snapshot of my childhood and the fondest of times…It’s a good read-aloud story if your kids are old enough, though it’s a little more graphic than your average episode of Little House on the Prairie… | Read More
Five years ago today, I stood in the little hospital’s ambulance bay, hands trembling, trying to dial my mother on my cell, to tell her the worst possible news. Inside the brick building behind me, my 19-year-old daughter lay in a coma after a near-fatal accident. Unresponsive. Absent. | Read More
Christmas is a high water-mark time of year for families with young kids, and our family was no different. With five young kids at home, those weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas day were ripe with memories. For our family, Christmas always begins the day after Thanksgiving with a trip to a local tree farm to select and fell the perfect tree. | Read More
