An Unexpected Journey

Blue.  Red.  Green. Yellow.  Little rainbow hand prints joined at the thumb make colorful butterflies.  Rainbows fly between them.  A single sketch of a little girl stands in the middle.  Peeking out from blond hair are two eyes- one blue and one green.  She always drew them that way because "sometimes my eyes look blue and sometimes they look green."  I can hear her giggle and see her squish up her eyes with love's silly face.  Her name is written below her prints- in her own handwriting.  All her friends names are there, too.  It is a beautiful quilt.  More than pictures- it is my baby's last class. This is the last project her work will ever be a part of.  The stitches are woven through the fabric.  Through my heart.  Somehow knitting me to her memory... to the children and teachers she loved and who loved her.  A precious piece of love and time.   I would have paid any price for it at the auction....

"One, two, three!"  Fifteen hands, mostly tiny, release fifteen strings and fifteen pink balloons surge up towards the heavens.  As they climb the wind blows, and they drift apart like wisps of dandelions after lips are open and breath is blown.  The sky reflects blue, maybe the blue of her eyes, and watches as they slip past the clouds.  Fifteen voices shout to the heavens the things they hope Jesus will tell her.  I love you!  I miss you!  Happy Birthday Makiah!  Their love rings out across the playground, and maybe the echos can be heard in heaven.  I know they were heard in this mommy's heart.  Fifteen pairs of eyes stare until the pink orbs disappear into the distance.   Later that day at the "resurrection ground," her mommy and daddy and sisters stand in the sticky south Georgia heat and attach our love to five pink balloons.  And a little mermaid one.  We send them floating up to meet her.  The sobs are ...

The day she was born. Birth day. Born day. Water breaking, breathing hard, clenching fists day. Smiles in between big eyes pooled with water and squeezing day. One tiny heart beat drops to half of what it should be. People in white swarm. The doctor and the anesthesiologist and the crowd in scrubs do not leave. I do not know this isn’t normal. More breathing, fiery tightening, opening of the way. One tiny heart beat drops to half of the half of what it should be. Push! Push! They urge. The monitor loses the tiny heart beat. The doctor says it is time for cutting and sucking. I work with special needs children, and I am afraid of words like “forceps” and “vacuum” and heart beats that are half of half of what they should be. But I say ok. Anything! I will do anything! Anything to help her live. So there is cutting and blood and a tug-of-war with death. Death before birth. We pull against it! I once read that deciding to become a mom is deciding to have your heart...

A Birthday Poem written by Makiah's Nana (her Daddy's Mom) MAKIAH KAITLYN KING MAY 11, 2006 – OCTOBER 8, 2010 Tomorrow is your birthday, you should be turning five, but a boy was driving high so now you're not alive. You are in heaven beyond the sky of blue, while we are here with aching hearts and the pain of missing you.  You brought such joy to all of those around, Your laughter was such a happy sound. Mermaids, fairies, bugs and butterflies, brought smiles to your lips and would light up your eyes. Your cat Buster still cries and looks to see if you're in your room reading your books. Your family that loves you so much would give anything for just a touch. To feel your arms in a sweet embrace and to feel your kisses on our face. But here we are with a broken heart, because we are forced to be apart. We will think of you all of our days, And remember your generous heart and your sweet, kind ways.   Our lives are richer because you were here, And we...

Tears drip.  I could hardly believe the words staring at me from the screen.  They rang out loudly like a bell, a declaration from beyond the grave.  Only they were written this side of death.  Barely.  A timely word to the despairing heart.  David Wilkerson, an evangalical who started Teen Challenge and Times Square Church in NYC, penned words in his blog Wednesday morning that pierce the soul and rend the thin shroud covering our questions.  A few hours later he was killed instantly in a tragic car accident.  I do not know if what he says about God's timing in death is true for Makiah.  Did the enemy steal her from us early or did she fulfill all the days written for her?  God foreknew but that doesn't necessitate predestination, right?... God's sovereignty versus free will... who knows.  It's the age old chicken and the egg argument.  I will never understand the WHY until  there is no breath in me.  But that is har...