Ten Thousand Reasons to Keep Going After a Loss

Last night, my oldest son Joseph did something that was a gift to me, but he didn't realize how much of gift it would become.  On the Flint Hill fields last night during flag football practice Matt Redman's "10,000 Reasons" was playing over the sound system.  Later that night after we got home Joseph said he had downloaded some sheet music.  He went downstairs and I heard the chords to "10,000 Reasons".  He was trying to sight read the first page.

Of all the songs he could have chosen, he picked this one.  I know it had to have been because he heard it played at the field last night as well.  Plus, the piano is so lovely.

This song..... oh this song.....  I couldn't listen to it all the way through for months after my mom died.

This morning I sight read the entire piece on our piano.... twice.
Yes, there were tears in my eyes..... those chords at the beginning always get to me.

In June of 2012 my mother was extremely sick and on Hospice care.  She was weak and more fragile than I had ever seen her in my entire life.  Something in my gut told me in May she would be with us through June but I was not sure how long after that.  It was the gnawing sensation that I knew she was going to die, but the "when" escaped me.  I had the heaviest heart for that month of June.

Through those precious days and four weeks she continued to smile, laugh, and be who she was... so full of love for all of us she loved so very dearly despite how badly she felt physically.

There was a song Mike was playing on his lap top during that time which really ministered to me.  "10,000 Reasons" by Matt Redman.   The words to the song really spoke deeply to me especially the part about keeping on singing.  When my heart knew my mom couldn't sing because of her ailing body which was failing on so many levels, I was going to keep singing in my heart for both of us.  That's what I thought and what I wrote about as I grieved the anticipation of losing her 2 weeks before she died.

For weeks it was like my life flashing before my eyes thinking of all of the wonderful things Mom had done for me.  Who she was.  How I had so much of her in my heart.  She saved my life quite literally in ways only a mother can save it.  How do you adequately thank someone for choosing you as her daughter?  How?  Is it even possible?  All of these thoughts of thankfulness, gratitude to God, and how much I loved and appreciated her flooded my mind that June.  She had become such a part of me and I wasn't ready to let go of that.  All of us were having such a hard time with watching her decline.

So I wrote this post on June 24, 2012 and she passed away 6 nights later.  Bless the Lord Oh My Soul
(Click the link to read, it's very short! Lyrics to the song found there.)  It was about this very song, "10,000 Reasons".   Yes, the song I played this morning on our piano!

The entire lyrics to the song are so powerful.....  it ends not with death, but HOPE.

"And on that day when my strength is failing,
The end draws near and my time has come,
Still my soul will sing Your praise unending,
10,000 years and then forever more! "


This song talks about God's goodness.  He is our reason to get up in the morning!  He is our reason to keep singing!  He is who is at our bedside when our bodies are failing.  He is who is with us in the life to come!  The entire song speaks of his holiness, goodness, and how worthy he is of our praise!  

10,000 Reasons to keep going..... I've got a big one the Lord has provided at the moment.....

This baby grand piano that now sits in a corner of our house has most certainly become a treasured gift.  It has proven to be the BEST thing I have ever purchased in my adult life outside of our homes.  It is used and 15 years old, but the previous owner took such good care of it and I am so grateful for that.

I told the Lord that if he helped me learn to play well again or even better than I used to after all of these years that I would keep playing.  AND.... I would play for others.

This desire to play has captivated my heart and the desire to play for others has as well.  Seeing the boys play and hearing piano music in our house on a daily basis makes me smile and I know my parents would have been happy to be a part of that.

My dad always wanted a baby grand.  He used to joke about it.  "But Joe, you don't play!" my mother would tell him.  His response was, "I know, but she does...." and he would point to me.

He was always telling me to "play some more please."  So I would.  I'm telling our boys that too.

We never got a baby grand piano even though my father would have loved to have had one.  I never thought I'd ever own one myself even though I secretly dreamed of that since I was a child.   Anytime Dad saw one, he would marvel over what a beautiful instrument it was.  He loved piano music and grew up listening to George Gershwin records as a teen.  If alive today on this earth would he be giddy that this instrument is in our home?  Absolutely!  Most importantly he would be super excited that it was not just "sitting looking pretty" but that it was played....every single day.  Mom would feel the same way.

10,000 reasons to keep going after a loss..... I have not come up with 10,000 reasons yet, but I may start a list and see how many ones I can come up with then if I get to 1000, I will just multiply those by 10 and say, "Do those things 10 times."

I've got ONE big new reason right now among many others.   When the boys and I can get our repertoires together we will start playing for seniors and Alzheimer's patients.

Thinking on how I could not listen to this song for months and months at all and then for more months without a tear in my eye.  Today I can listen to the entire thing and be ok.  Playing it on the piano however?  Wow..... would I have thought that would happen in June 2012?  It will still remind me of my mother though she did not ever know of or hear the song.

So I'm thanking my son today when I pick him up from school.  This gift of sheet music is more than he realized.  He downloaded it for himself, but actually he did it for me.  Thank you Lord for ministering to me through music, my son, and the loving memory of my mother.

Saturday's Silence in the Garden

The Saturday before Easter it was quiet.  Jesus' body had been taken down off the cross the day before.  He was in the darkened tomb and it was sealed.  

There must have been a lot of confusion and grief that day with those who loved Jesus.  The aftershock of what had happened the day before weighed on their hearts....so many questions in the minds of the disciples.  Saturday must have been quiet on the outside, but emotional turmoil on the inside of Jesus' beloved followers.

I find it interesting that the Easter story involves a day of rest, a sabbath of sorts before the resurrection.  There is a silence and quiet where there is nothing written down to let us know what happened exactly that day.  We can only imagine.  What we do know is Jesus' body is lying in the tomb and there are those who feel like their world has been shattered.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to the columbarium at Myers Park UMC, with a daffodil in hand to put in my parents' niche.  The columbarium is actually a garden outside Francis Chapel and the niches are on the side of the chapel all the way around.  There are camellia bushes flanking one side and an angel fountain on the other.  A large Tulip Magnolia tree is at the entrance and a Crepe Myrtle next to a bench.  The Tulip tree was blooming that evening that I stopped by the garden.

I decided to take photos of it because it is such a reminder to me of new life, Easter and the resurrection.  That tree will always bloom around the time of my father's death and my mother's birthday.  

It's like a message from God as I enter the gate....
" 'I am the resurrection and the life....'  Don't worry Judith, your folks and all of my beloved laid to rest here are alive with me.  You just have to wait awhile to see them again."


In the past, I didn't spend too much time thinking about Holy Saturday.  It was the day before Easter when nothing was really going on.  It was the day to get ready for Easter or do my own thing.  In my mind, it seemed ok not to ponder Holy Saturday too deeply, so I didn't.

Then my parents died 9 months apart and everything changed.

My Holy Saturday became my Dad's funeral.....March 30, also what would have been my mother's 83 birthday.  Dad and Mom never missed celebrating her birthday together. 
They were together now in that earthly niche and alive with Christ in eternity.

That Holy Saturday was a blur.  It was only 2 Easters ago.  It seems like yesterday.

Walking two people home whom I  love, has taught me about grief.  I know what it feels like the day after you lose someone.  One day they are here, the next they are gone and it feels like your world has been turned upside down. 

You remember the suffering they went through and how you felt as if you were staring death in the face.  In fact you were, but what you couldn't see was what Jesus was renewing on the inside.  That was what kept me going when I walked through the valley with them their final weeks of life.  Even through the deepest part of my sadness, there was much peace, comfort, and assurance of God's love.  Death was the door to life and I knew that, but that head knowledge became real to me when I was there in those final moments with my parents.  It changed my life.  

Jesus' followers only had to wait through Holy Saturday before seeing Him again.  Easter was coming, they just didn't know it yet.

We are still waiting in the garden with our losses, fears, doubts and hurts.... I'm still waiting in the garden to see Jesus face to face.  I'm not alone.  We're not alone because the Holy Spirit is with us and He waits too, with blessed assurance and hope.  

Spring continues all around us as signs that this is not the end.  When the sun comes up, it is a promise of a new day.  I may be still waiting in the garden by the tomb, but I know that Jesus is there with me patiently comforting me as I wait, renewing my spirit with hope that death is not the end.

Death has been conquered because of His great love for us!
Jesus is the resurrection and the life!  

Easter is almost here!  

Remember the Laughter

August 1st is my Dad's birthday.  He would have been 82 this year.   In my eyes, this is his 2nd birthday in heaven.  I know he continues to do what he always did on earth….smile, laugh and yes probably joke!  I believe Jesus has a sense of humor.  I have to consider that Dad and Jesus may have had a few good jokes together or shared a lot of laughter in the past year.  Something tells me this is highly likely and probable.  Jesus is the one who created that jovial, smiling,  fun spirit in Dad.  If He created it, and it is eternal, why wouldn't it continue in the next life which is our forever home?

There was no one like my dad.  There are a million things I miss about him and it is just easier to say that I miss every single thing about him.   No one ever loved me like he did and no one will ever love me in that way again.  It is a hard pill to swallow even over a year after his passing.  I count it as something intricately special to my life to have had someone love me and show me how to love others as well as he did.  

That joking though….. oh my goodness.  We used to laugh so!  I don't think there has ever been someone in my life who joked and laughed with me like Dad did.  This banter back and forth we used to share.  He loved to see our reactions to his antics and yes the antics were frequent and made Mom smile and shake her head.  "What is your father up to?"  or simply a…"JOE!"  Mom's reaction to his playfulness made us laugh more.  He loved the attention and he loved to hear us laugh most of all.

Trying to distract Mom by gently blowing her direction instead of letting her blow out her candles!  

Dad why isn't the hose attached???

He loved playing with Joseph and Philip

So many happy birthday moments!

Mom…. his beautiful bride and love of his life!

Love that hat Dad!

And MY FAVORITE….  "The Handy man creed-  'If I can't fix it, it ain't broken!"  Yes, I found this shirt at Cracker Barrel and thought of him.  It was his 76th birthday.  Dad, the handy man who loved tools, wood working and any thing home improvement.

The silly things we used to do:  putting the sock monkey stuffed animal in the dining room chair for him to find at dinner or under the covers at his pillow at night.  Little messages on things.  The pretend "stone, hard, stale biscuits" scenario (take your home made biscuit and pretend to tap it on your plate while you are taking your knife under the table and tapping it on the underside of the table to make the sound effect)   This was a joke he played on Mom a long time ago.  Funny hand made cards with speech balloons attached to printed  photos we cut out and put on the card to make him smile.  He took everything in stride and never took anything personally.  He made sure with his joking that no one else did either.  His jokes were clean, sometimes corny, but very entertaining.  He often times joked about his "lack of hair" and getting it wet in the rain.  He and his dentist exchanged  funny birthday cards to each other for years and his dentist told me how much he missed that after Dad passed away.  It was something to which he always looked forward.

 It was the gifts of making others smile, his actual smile, his ability to help people see they were valued and loved even in the midst of a funny "break the ice" remark which made him unforgettable.  I can't think of how many grocery store clerks he would be kind to or joke with on a regular basis.  If you were having a bad day and you ran into Dad, he would make your bad day more manageable by helping you to forget your worries if only for a few minutes.  Even in the nursing home with Alzheimer's disease at its worst, he would smile, laugh, and joke around with the staff.  He was always so grateful for everything they did for him.  They loved his fun loving personality and several told me they already missed his jokes the day after he died.

Our personalities do matter to God.  He created our spirits to be unique and to shine a part of who He is.  The Lord allowed Dad to keep those parts of himself which reflected who he was the most,  even when Alzheimer's had stolen so much of his life away.  That love.  That gratitude for others and what they did for him.   That fun loving spirit.  Those were things Alzheimer's could never take away in him.

So August 1st was always such a happy day!  It was fun to celebrate my dad.  It was fun to joke with him about his age, flipping the numbers to make him younger…..  "I'm 62, no that would be 26 thanks very much."  44, 55, 66, and 77 were not years this worked and we let him know it.  I think in my Dad's heart he was always youthful.  He lived his life this way with a vivacity and love of the gift of life God gave him.  He saw life as a gift.  He saw us as a gift.  He saw his faith as a gift.  I do know one thing…. he never ever wanted to grow old.  

 He aged gracefully by always staying active and in physically good shape.  When he did grow old, he'd refer to himself as "your old dad"…. but to me he wasn't old in spirit even if Alzheimer's made him physically look 10 years older than he was.  He was always my Papa Bear….funny, loving, encouraging, strong, full of life, happy, and spirited.

He was my hero dad.

I miss him so.  There is a huge void in my life which can never be replaced.  Life just isn't the same without him there on a regular basis.   I remember the laughter we used to share and all of those birthdays seeing his face light up and a hearty chuckle from my hand made corny, silly cards…..  He loved them.  He just loved being with all of us.  Mom, Tom, the boys and Mike and I.  He loved his friends too; they were a special part of his life.

I can't wait to get in on the joking and laughter in heaven.  I know Daddy's spirit is not dead.  He lives forever more and is waiting for us to join him so we can experience his joy, laughter, and love of eternal life with the one who created that very spirit in us!

I love you Daddy!  Happy Birthday!  
Love,
Your little girl

This is a video tribute of Dad I made and set to music.  

Joseph F. Poston, Jr iMovie

The photos span his lifetime from childhood to the last photo we had with him as a family in early March 2013.  The music I selected reflects his musical tastes.  He loved piano music.  "Beach Spring" is a famous American folk tune I love.  "Someone to Watch Over Me" is exactly what he was to all of us…..he was that father who was always there.  "Make Someone Happy" is what he did all of his life and when Alzheimer's came it is what we tried to do for him.  We tried to bring joy to him every chance we could.  The last song, "Smile" conveys what he did those last years with Alzheimer's disease.  "Smile, though your heart is breaking…. smile and the sun will come shining through for you…."  It is what he continued to do battling the loss of his memories and life as he once knew it.  It is what we all strived to do and did when we were with him though our hearts were breaking watching his decline.  It defines his courage and strength.  

The Dream Which Prepared Me

A couple of months before my Dad passed away I had a dream, a vision even you might say of something incredibly special.  It prepared me for the time of my father's passing when I could look back on those images I had and know God was with me.  He was taking care of my parents and I should have no doubts about that.

The images were in black in white.

The setting was heaven.

It was the day my Dad arrived in heaven.

Leading up to these images, my dad had been suffering a lot over the past 3 years.  Alzheimer's disease had stolen so much of the father I knew. It was brutal and cruel.  It stole his language skills.  It stole his memories.  It caused him to be feeble, unsteady on his feet and feel like he was in a deep dark place at times which I could never imagine.  We were his lights in the darkness in his time of need.  We were his champions.  His cheerleaders.  His steady anchors in a very scary unsettling time.  Our mom lit up his life every single time he was in her presence.  Their love for each other was quite something to behold.  It was like this precious gem or treasure to us.  Their love was so deep and selfless.  Staff at the Carriage Club talked about how special a couple they were all the time.

"I'm going to see my bride!" he'd tell the staff when he had to sign out of assisted living to walk over to see Mom in another building.
Replies were often, "Oh, I know you are going to see your sweetie pie!  She's waiting for you now!  Be good!"
He loved the banter back and forth with the staff.  They loved my parents.

Mom would giggle and smile when she saw him.  If she were asleep when Dad arrived, he'd let her sleep.  He knew she needed rest.  When she woke up he was there smiling at her.  Just like when living independently on their own in their own home, Dad was the one to wake her up from her naps.

Every visit was sacred time.

Mom his bride Christmas Day 2010

Every visit for me became sacred time as well.  This was true for both my parents.  I loved spending time with both of them no matter how sad either of their conditions became. They brought me joy so often and I longed to hear their laughs, see their smiles and hear their "I love you" one more time.  In my Dad's case, it helped me to see that he was still "Dad" underneath his illness.

Spending part of our weekends at the Carriage Club after Mom passed was something I always looked forward to with my brother.  We loved it when he had good days and joked with us.

A good day in February 2013 when he started to bounce back a bit.

We helped to bring his memories back to life.  We cherished him.  We loved him, hugged him, laughed with him, cried with him and made him feel like he was still our hero.

He was.

Easter 2012

He would always be that to my brother and I.  Our hero of a dad who poured out his love and life into us, his kids, Mom his bride, his friends and to the church and community he loved so dearly.  He was so special.  He was funny.  He was compassionate and strong, my anchor and security so often.  He was an ever present calming presence in my life too until the very end.

Alzheimer's truly broke my heart those first 2 months in 2013.  It had already done a pretty good job of doing so the past 3 years.  Watching the decline of your dad and the process of what he went through…..the fear, anxiety, confusion, paranoia and loss of complete control of his life was like a spear in my heart.  There is nothing we could do to stop it. Alzheimer's was not about to slow down at this point.  So we did everything we could do to soften it, to love, to bring joy, to validate, to affirm and we became very good at living in the moment and appreciating every single tiny blessing along the way.

My dad had fallen and bumped his head at the end of December.  He required a trip to the ER to get his head checked out which turned into another trip to the ER the next day and then followed with a case bronchitis.  I was worried about him. My brother was worried about him.  This was a tough blow and I had never seen my father unable to feed himself before or look at me and not respond when I was talking to him directly.  He would stare off into space like I was not there when he was so sick with the bronchitis.  He basically could not stand on his own.  He did not have a lot of strength at all and ever single bit of strength going to his healing seemed to leave his mind fast behind.  That's when the wheel chair was ordered, the lift, and the hospital bed.  All of which he needed desperately but all of which crushed me silently.  Dad was slipping deeper into stage 6 of dementia, a place none of us ever wanted him to reach.

The step down was as if a light had been turned off in my father's brain.  It was one of the scariest things I'd ever seen happen to my dad.

I cried another ocean of tears for him those months.

This vision I had truly came to me from above I think, to prepare me for what was coming.  As I look back now I can see that clearly.  It was preparing me for his death to come almost 3 months later, the day after Palm Sunday.  It was preparing me with hope.
It was giving me a tiny glimpse of what that hope might look like in this finite mind of mine.

The scene was like this……

My dad enters heaven.  He looks like he's 20 years old. He's well.  He doesn't have any disease or illness.  He is the spitting image of good health.  He is restored.  He is standing there facing Jesus.  Jesus has on a white robe.  My dad is in jeans and a plaid shirt.  His jeans are rolled up a notch at the foot.  He has on loafers.  They greet one another and they embrace.  Jesus has his arm around Dad and Dad has his arm on Jesus' shoulder.  They are talking, smiling and laughing. I have NO idea what they are saying to each other.  You can tell they have a relationship.  They are patting each other on the arm like they have known each other for years.   Jesus is my dad's dear friend.

Picture my dad sent to my mother .while was in the Navy

Then the scene switches.  Jesus and Dad are still standing there but over Jesus' right shoulder my mother appears in the distance.  She's wearing clothing from the 1950's.  She looks like she is 23 years old.  She has a smile on her face.  She does not wave.  She just stands there and waits.

Dad stops talking with Jesus and looks over Jesus' shoulder with amazement.  His eyes open wide.  That million dollar smile my daddy always had ensues.

"ETHEL??"

My mom responds, "JOE?!!" (She's been with Jesus for awhile now.)

He looks up to Jesus' face and Jesus says with a smile and gleam in his eye, "It's ok, Joe.  Go ahead," just like a parent would do.

My dad gives him a smile and a wink, squeezes Jesus' hand and mouths a "thank you" and Dad takes off running in those jeans and loafers.

My mom starts running toward Dad.

They meet with an embrace as my daddy delivers the swing hug of a lifetime.
A heavenly swing hug.

They are SMILING and SO HAPPY!
There is no Type 1 diabetes.  There is no Non Hodgkins Lyphoma.  There is no dementia.

Then the visions stops.

That is all.  There is nothing else.

Those images of my parents young, happy, at peace, and with their Lord brought me so much peace at this time of uncertainty and trial with Dad.  I thought about it and saw this in my head several times.
I simply held on to it and could not forget it.

In my Grief Share class I shared it.  I cried when I did.  It was this special gift from God which calmed me.  I knew Dad missed Mom.  We all knew it well even if he did not express it well.

Now my parents are together.  They are in the presence of their Lord. One day they will be completely renewed.  I'll see them again.  I will and this brings me so much comfort.

Mother's Day

This is my first Mother's Day without my mom.

It feels strange.

It feels so not normal.

It really is the oddest feeling in this heart of mine.

There is a void within.... yet it is filled with her love.

There is a lonely feeling deep inside.... yet I know I'm not alone.

There is a loss that is so deep it is hard to put into words.... and yet I'm smiling more these days than crying when I think of her.  I still DO cry, but I feel more of a warmth inside with all of our fond memories these days and I cherish those more than ever.

It's still difficult.  I just want to celebrate my mother and I can't the way I want to.

I want to celebrate with a hug, a card, a smile, us laughing together,  flowers,  sharing a meal together, just talking and spending time.  I physically want to be in my mom's presence and I can't.

When your mom is just a friend like no other friend on the planet, it is an eerie, odd, not normal thing to not have that loving presence you have always had in your life from the beginning.  

I can hear her voice so clearly most days in my head and I feel that love she always had for me so strongly.

I still want to give her a hug and that does not make it any easier.  I will always want that hug and want to return that hug too.

I look around me and I am reminded of her everywhere.  Her blanket is on the footboard of my bed.  It's been here since the day she passed away.  I have photos around our house.  There is family furniture which I've had in my life since as far back as I can remember.  I look outside and I see yellow Iris everywhere.  Those Iris came from her flower beds in the house I grew up in.  They have been so beautiful these past few days.  I used to bring her these in April after she and Dad downsized to the condo and she didn't have a yard anymore.  She would see the bouquet of yellow or purple in my hand and she would know exactly where they came from.... I loved to see her smile when she received flowers.

This past week I've been thinking about our last Mother's Day celebration... we had just come home from Chetola spending a week there at her and Dad's time share.  We all had our Chetola shirts on and she was all smiles that day.  Frail and weaker than usual, but still very much herself.   I didn't know at the time it would be her last Mother's Day with us.

I miss everything about her....and I always will.  A mother's love never leaves us.  I am finding this to be true even 10 months later without her.  I am finding it true with my dad too and it has been only 6 weeks since he died and joined Mom in heaven.

She was the best mom in the world to me.  No one loved me like she did and no one ever will again.  Double that feeling now especially that my daddy is no longer here either.  To miss both of your parents so much..... and to learn to live without them is something I may never totally get used to.

I'm learning though that God just transforms that love Mom always showed me into a love that sustains me at times in my grief.  His love for me given through an incredible forever mom....  it has been such a gift.  I can honestly say that I feel her love within me so strongly, like I wasn't sure I would.  Experiencing the death of someone so close totally changes your life.  My mom changed my life from day one when she saw me at the adoption agency and said, "Yes" to me as her daughter.  She changed my life for the better each and every year I was her daughter.  She brought me so much joy and made me feel so special.  

I am still her daughter.  
I will always be Ethel's daughter.  
Her love is so woven into who I am.  I carry it around in my heart all of the time and this is what makes me smile when I think of her.  

The memories are so sweet.  The time shared so cherished.  45 years God allowed her to be in my life.... 

I will still want my "Moma hugs" no matter what.... 
I will always miss that relationship we had.... 

Happy Mother's Day Mom..... your first in heaven and you didn't have to miss one without Dad!  

I love you a bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck!

To all of you daughters out there missing your moms.... I am saying a prayer for you.  Mother's day without your mom is not easy and I pray that the memories you have of your mother which make you smile will comfort you.  You are not alone.  There are many of us who remember and reminisce and wish we could still give our moms hugs too. 

The Adoption Poem

There is a poem about adoption which my mother shared with me decades ago as a child.  It is a poem which has stuck with me all of my life.  It is a well known poem and is short, sweet, and to the point.  It is a love poem and one which I cherish.

It goes like this....

"Not flesh of my flesh,
Nor bone of my bone,
But still miraculously my own.

Never forget for a single minute
That you did not grow under my heart,
But in it!"

An adoptive parent's love for their adopted child wrapped up in these few words.  As a child, when I would often read this poem I thought about my mother's heart.  I thought about the fact that I was not part of her actual body.  There was absolutely nothing genetically in me that was a part of her.  She never carried me in her womb, I was never "under her heart".  She did not go through midnight cravings with me, aches and pains, morning sickness, nor the joyful moments of first feeling me kick in her womb.  She never went through the pain of childbirth with me.  None of those things we shared.  I really did ponder these facts.  

My mom had actually had two precious babies grow under her heart years prior to my brother's and my adoption, only to miscarry them both in her 2nd trimester both times because of Type 1 diabetes.  She did have joyful experiences of being an expectant mother.  She also felt tremendous grief and pain I would imagine.  She simply could not carry these precious ones in her womb until birth.  It just wasn't possible.  The doctors also told her if she were to continue to try to have more children with Dad that she was putting her life at substantial risk.  She must have been very ill during part of each of her pregnancies.  Mom was never able to hold her babies in her arms at birth, but she was able to hold us as babies in her arms.

There were times when thinking about my mother and my father that I so wished that I was physically part of both of them..... If I could have had one wish, it would have been that I was their natural born daughter too!  But I wasn't.  So, I would often let those thoughts go and I knew that no matter what, we had this incredibly special bond which was so strong and full of love.  This bond taught me so much over the course of my life.

What I have found out 4 and a half decades later (and even before this) is that I am so much a part of both of them, in different ways, outside of physical genes, that it is not even funny.  One of my dearest friends told me "You are your mother's daughter."  I consider that to be one of the highest of compliments.  I see a lot of my mom's compassionate, caring heart in my brother too and both of their enthusiastic, positive attitudes as well.

Just 2 nights ago I was passionately discussing and processing something I was concerned about with my husband, Michael.  He was listening intently and then he stopped and just stared at me and said, "You looked at this moment just like your mother and you sounded just like her too."  

And this type of thing happens with some (not all) families who have adoption as their story.  My brother and I are two of the blessed ones.  Not all stories turn out well.  Not all adoption stories have a happy ending.  Ours did.  Our lives were  forever changed for the better and I am constantly thankful for the blessings of the parents God brought into my life when I was a 7 week old infant.  My brother is just as thankful in regards to his adoption.

This poem must have been really special to my mother.  Why?  Well, she had typed it up on ivory stationery, not just once but twice.  Maybe more than twice.  I don't know.  

It was such a special good-bye gift....

The final weeks before Mom and Dad's condo was closing in the fall of 2012, I was cleaning out the last things in my mom's dresser.  It is a beautiful dresser, long with 12 drawers and a huge mirror over it to match.  She had that dresser as part of hers and Dad's bedroom suite for over 50 years.  It has ALWAYS been the dresser my mother had since I can remember.  I used to love her showing me her treasures in those dresser drawers.

Inside one of the drawers I found an Ivey's department store bag.  I opened it and inside were various sentimental things my mother had kept....

 .....my graduation program from Charlotte Catholic in 1985

.....the church bulletin from Myers Park UMC for graduation Sunday 1985

.....a Valentine I had given her in 1972

.....a mother's day card I had given to her which was really like an apology card 

.....little cut out photos of she and Dad

.....photos of my brother and I

.....an article from the Charlotte Observer about 2 adoptive parents and their son thanking them for being his parents

.....an Anniversary card from Dad

....and a card from my brother to both Mom and Dad.

Then there was this little ivory envelope.

I opened it up.

And there was the adoption poem.  I had not seen this poem in years!

I was sitting on the floor in my Mom and Dad's bedroom at the condo, surrounded by all of these things Mom kept all these years and held this card up to my chest and wept.  

It was the last little message from my mother to me and to my brother as we were saying goodbye to hers and Dad's home which they both loved and could not stay in due to medical struggles.  It was my mom saying to me one more time, "I love you Judith.  You are and always will be my daughter, no matter what."  And these words came to my heart from heaven, because she had died in July and this was September 19.

What a little unexpected gift from God to both my brother and I, that I should find this poem in such a timely way.

Well, just last weekend I had a similar gift....

You hear the saying, "Nothing ever happens the same way twice."  There is truth to that.  

However, my brother was not surprised as much by this as I was.  I was shaking my head in tears of thankfulness and a LOT of wonder this time.  

I found another poem....
....JUST like the one Mom had in her dresser.
It was on the same ivory stationery, same typewriter font, same everything.

She had typed up two of these poems.  (There may have been more.)

I found this one in my Dad's bureau drawer the day we moved his dresser into our house 3 weeks after he died.

My dad had had this poem in the ivory envelope in his top drawer for YEARS.... All tucked away.  It was probably there in our childhood home in Dilworth.  It was there at the condo.  It was there at the Carriage Club in Assisted Living and in Memory Care the last 3 years.  It had been there the whole time.  It was under some other items.

In the envelope with it were photos of my brother and I and an announcement in the Charlotte Observer about his mother and his mother in law making their visit to Hawaii to see he and Mom in 1954.  Mom and Dad were married in Hawaii the prior year and Dad was in the US Navy stationed at Pearl Harbor.

How could this ever be?

Again Lord?  Truly? The same little good-bye gift found in his matching dresser-bureau.  

Tom said, "Well, they did think an awful lot alike."  He is so right about that.

It's possible too that this poem was given to my Grandmother Elizabeth, (Dad's mom), by my mother.  Then she put photos she had been given by my dad and mom in the envelope along with the poem.

Grandmother Elizabeth, Tom and I  (and Dad's dresser in the background), the day I came home to live with my forever family.

It sounds completely like something my mother would have done and Grandmother would have done.   They were both sentimental especially with photos and words.  I just don't know for a fact that this is what happened with the poem.  What makes me also think of this possibility is due to one photo of my grandfather and Tom fishing on a pier at Lake Wylie, and then of course the 1954 newspaper blurb about she and my Mom's mother taking their first trans-Pacific flight to Hawaii.  

Either way, if it was given to Elizabeth from my mother or not, this poem with pictures had probably been in my dad's dresser a very long time, possibly since his Mom's passing which would have been 1974.  I know my dad loved this poem too.

So this little reminder of love is doubly appreciated and felt.  How both poems wound up in both of their dressers floors me....yet it doesn't.  God loves to surprise us with details about our loved ones.  I'm so glad I decided to look through Daddy's drawer this particular day.  

I open the drawer and it still smells like it always has since I was a little girl.  The dresser represents part of him, just like my mother's did.  Right now her grandson is using her dresser as his very own and taking very good care of it.   One day I will be able to let go of Daddy's bureau, but not just yet and I've told my brother it is just as he left it at the Carriage Club.  Anytime he wants to come over and remember a part of Dad, the bureau is here.  

Until then, I feel blessed....so very blessed once again for these fingerprints of love.