Ethan’s Mom: In one week, my children here on earth will go back to school — all four of them. As I have mentioned in a previous post, back-to-school time is difficult for me, and this is the year when I will send Ethan’s twin brother to preschool for the first time. There was no decision on whether to place them in the same or different classes (I would have totally advocated the same class for as long as possible). They won’t be known as “the twins” to their classmates’ parents. There are no matching backpacks waiting to be filled with lunchboxes. Would Ethan have loved PB&J as much as his brother or would I have to pack them different food? How cute would our three musketeers have looked marching down the preschool hallway together to their 2K and 4K classes?

Summer is drawing to a close, and I am sad to see it go. We have had a nice balance of fun adventures and lazy times this summer. Nothing makes me as happy as being with my people, even though they often drive me crazy.  I am not ready for it to end.

I don’t want to fill out all the back to school forms listing siblings and ages. I don’t want to make small talk at parents’ night or meet the teacher. I don’t want to leave Ethan further behind.

But I just recently realized that it’s not just back to school looming on the horizon. I’m at the top of the hill on the roller coaster, closing my eyes before I hurtle down and wishing I never got on this ride.

The hot days of August will fade a little bit and we’ll arrive at my husband’s favorite season — FOOTBALL. We will all dress in our matching college football fan gear, except Ethan. Ethan bear will have to represent on his behalf. The glorious sunshine of October is next, and the leaves on Ethan’s trees will turn colors and fall. The talk will turn to costumes and candy, and I will miss dressing up one precious little boy. The decorations and scariness I hate about Halloween will return. Then we slide into November with its Thanksgiving feasts and handprint turkeys, but the only handprint I will ever have from Ethan was made at the funeral home. Then Christmas and all that holiday cheer, balancing the desire to celebrate with my family here with my need to grieve Ethan’s absence during the “most wonderful time of the year.”

Then the calendar will roll over to a New Year, another one without my little caboose. Winter marches on, and I will cringe every time the weather forecast includes the chance of ice or school is cancelled for snow. We will celebrate the twins’ birthday, full of joy for the gift of their lives even though one was far too short. Finally, the final drop through the 63 days until the anniversary of the worst day of our lives. At the bottom, I will need several weeks to catch my breath and feel the adrenaline dissipate.

Guess what? That puts me back at summer. I miss my baby every single day but there are less of the emotionally intense dates to deal with during the summer. I think that is really what has been bothering me. I am not ready to face any of it again. The first year was, as you would expect, agonizing. People warned me the second year would be just as bad, and it was. But it was bad in totally different ways. I don’t know what to expect in year three, and I don’t like surprises.

I first listened to the music of the Gray Havens at the inComplete Retreat I attended last fall. I laid on the pier in the sunshine with my legs dangling into the lake as the music washed over me that afternoon. I have been reminded of this song over the past week. I can’t get off the roller coaster, but I know one day it will end, even if the ride seems endless now. I am getting better at recognizing the provisional grace given to us along the journey, and I have to believe more is coming our way in the months and years ahead.

Take This Slowly by the Gray Havens

“If I took all that I got
And spread it out on this table
It might not seem like alot
A once glimmering joy
Slowly fading from view
All the change in my pockets, not enough
And this picture of you
Still I’ve heard all that I have
In the moment is hardly a sign
Of everything coming my way
I believe when I need it, it will be mine

So let’s take this slowly
All I need is coming
But it’s just beyond what I can see
So if my eyes press forward in fierce alarm
Just turn my head back to see
To see how we got this far
And I’ll be alright

“I’m not asking for mountains of riches
No silver or gold
Don’t need fame or fancier things
I can’t take when I go
I’m just asking for grace
Grace to carry on
Grace to take joy at my place at the table
And the rock that it’s standing on
Still I’ve heard all that I have
In the moment is hardly a sign
Of everything coming my way
I believe when I need it, it will be mine

So let’s take this slowly
All I need is coming
But it’s just beyond what I can see
So if my eyes press forward in fierce alarm
Just turn my head back to see
To see how we got this far
And I’ll be alright

“And even when I’m broke down
Even when what I’ve got now
Is falling faster down beneath the cracks
And I don’t know when it’s coming back around
Even then I’ll be calling out louder
Loud enough to wake ’em up
Believing I believe I will see it done
I believe what I will hold
What I hold will be enough
Will be enough

“So let’s take this slowly
All I need is coming
But it’s just beyond what I can see
So if my eyes press forward in fierce alarm
Just turn my head back to see
To see how we got, got this far
And I’ll be alright
It’s gonna be alright
It’s gonna be alright
It’s gonna be alright.”

Addendum 8/7/19:

We met the teachers today, and there was grace for that. I am sad, no doubt, but not despairing to the point I cannot also hold the sweet excitement of my 4 kids that had teachers to meet and classmates to greet. It went better than I expected, and I have hope that tomorrow and Friday will as well.

While this grief journey truly changes from moment-to-moment, God’s presence with us does not, no matter how it feels on any given day. Isaiah 43:2 was the “verse of the day” in my email this morning. “I will be with you when you pass through the waters, and when you pass through the rivers, they will not overwhelm you. You will not be scorched when you walk through the fire, and the flame will not burn you.” There truly is grace for each moment we walk in the Shadowlands. I want to end this post with another sweet song of God’s provision, Enough by Sara Groves. I pray you know somewhere down in your soul that God’s grace is enough for you today and there will be enough tomorrow.

“Late nights, long hours
Questions are drawn like a thin red line
No comfort left over
No safe harbor in sight

“Really we don’t need much
Just strength to believe
There’s honey in the rock,
There’s more than we see
In these patches of joy
These stretches of sorrow
There’s enough for today
There will be enough tomorrow

“Upstairs a child is sleeping
What a light in our strain and stress
We pray without speaking
Lord help us wait in kindness

“Really we don’t need much
Just strength to believe
There’s honey in the rock,
There’s more than we see
In these patches of joy
These stretches of sorrow
There’s enough for today
There will be enough tomorrow.”