Oreo love

I just wasn't prepared...

So, tonight was was the visitation service for the 18-year-old. Sweet Jacob Cross.

We had the service at our church.

I wasn't prepared. Actually, I never gave it one second of thought.

Not one second.

Why did it not cross my mind?

For the last two days, I have been so thankful that it was going to be at our church. Because it is a sanctuary. A safe place. Not a cold funeral home.

Those boys need Jesus and His peace with them right now. I have been so thankful for that. That they would feel safe, at this time.

But, it never once crossed my mind, that Kendall's service was also there. Not once. I guess I was so caught up with thinking of them, that I didn't see the bigger picture (and I am usually pretty good at that).

And then.

As I turned into that side door. The same side door we entered.

We went down that aisle. The same aisle.

And at the foot of the sanctuary, the flowers greeted me before I could approach the family. And as I stood with them just ahead of me. It was a vision that I truly believe I have blocked from every emotion that I have.

I had no idea.

Oh, and as I approached his mom, I felt their pain. I felt their feet hurt from standing. I knew their eyes were sore from rubbing with endless amounts of cheap kleenex. I knew they were tired of having that first "I am so sorry" encounter with people that they loved. I knew that they felt awkward when it was someone that they didn't know. Or someone that was obviously grieving heavily. Almost as if the family had to comfort THEM.

I understood. And I wished I could take it from them. I wished I could make it better.

And then as I watched each boy, sign the casket with a Sharpie, and then hug the parents, and then turn to exit, and catch that lump in their throat. Oh, how I wanted to squeeze each of them. And some, I did.

As I turned to exit myself, that overwhelming, powerful, suffocate my chest, and I almost couldn't breathe feeling...it returned to me. And as I stepped closer to the door, I remembered leaving the church. And leaving, knowing that I was leaving her at that foot of that sanctuary.

It was hard to take those steps to exit that day.
And it was hard today.

A flood of emotions I wasn't prepared.

And then in the foyer, to see all of those sweet tough boys, crying on each other shoulders, pounding their buddies backs, it hurt me.

What an overwhelming sense of pride I had for them. Proud of their team. Proud of their brotherhood.

I am not sure I have ever been as broken of a mom.

I just wasn't prepared.

And I am not sure tomorrow will be any easier.

I am ok with being "that mom".....

It's 3:42 am. And I can't sleep.
As I sit pouring over photos, looking thru the BAZILLION pictures that I took during Football Season, I can't help but remember how many times the guys whined like baby girls :

"come on, don't take another picture"
"hey, look, there's Smith's mom again, with the camera"
"Oh my gosh, you are NOT taking a picture of that"

And then last night, as I took some pictures to a mother, grieving the loss of her 18 year old, and teammate of Mason's.....I can't help but hear that over and over in mind.

As I gave her the pictures. One by one. Because she couldn't handle more than one at a time.
She touched them. She held them. She rubbed his face. She cried out with a voice that no mother should ever project.
And at that very moment, with the trembling in her lips, she said "this is all I have left"
It chills my arms as I type.

This. Is. All. I. Have. Left.

Yes, isn't it true.

No one wants to have their picture taken. And no one wants to be IN a picture. And NO ONE, and I mean NO ONE wants to see "that mom" coming with camera quick at the ready on my shoulder.

But, then, in the end, it's all you have left. Yes, you have your memories. But they jump out at you if they are captured in a photo.

You can see their twinkle in their eye. You can see the way that one little hair always curled wrong. You can see that scar from when they fell riding their bike, and you were so sad that they would have a scar. And now you are so thankful for that scar, because it shows character.

And so, as I approach Mason's Senior Year, and all of the memories that lie ahead, already in progress, and soon a part of his past, and then Chap quickly approaching....I think my motto for the next few years will be this....

Watch out boys, am 100% ok with being "that mom"
Now lemme go stock up on a few memory cards :)

4th of July 5k

So Michele Seay started a local 5k a few years ago. And it has become a4th of July tradition for us.
No bibs. No real clock. Just some neighborhood fun. Followed by a kids parade.
She does a great job with the post race and a little bit of festivities and it's really just a good way to start the day!

This year Scott carried the flag for Mlke 2. Very cool.