"I've heard it said, that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn. And we are led to those that help us most to grow, if we let them, and we help them in return. Well, I don't know if I believe that it's true, but I know I'm who I am today because I knew you."

I think I've made it pretty clear that I'm a super broadway geek, and Wicked just about tops the list as my favorite soundtrack. Les Miserables is a real close second though. "For Good" is a track on the album, along with my favorite song in the play. I've always held the song as a sweet sentiment toward friendships come and gone, because as life happens, friendships come and go.

Never in a million years, did I expect November 21, 2015 to be the day that one of the friendships that I never expected to go, be gone forever in the blink of an eye. I've written and rewritten this blog five different times. I've watched myself go through a lot of emotions, but each time I begin to push publish, I stop and push delete, because I feel like my words are such blatant short comings to describe her and the brightness that made up her life. Over and over again, I've seen people write their condolences on her Facebook wall, and over and over, I've seen her described as a light. From people who run in the same circles, to people who would otherwise have no connection were it not for her, Alyssa was very obviously a light, and it's a light that death cannot overcome.

I've been blessed in my life to know very little of death or tragedy. And this isn't even a "The Lord has been so good to me!" Because I don't believe that God is a God of death and destruction. When I say that I've been blessed, I mean that I'm thankful, and there's no way to sugar coat it. My great-grandmother died when I was eleven, and if she suffered, I don't remember it. I know she was old and weak, and my last memory of her is one of her laying on the couch, watching "The Nutty Professor" and laughing. I might have seen her after that, but those memories escape me now. She died as an old woman, and to my eleven year old mind, that just made sense. That's the way the world worked. You grow up, you get married, have some babies, then some grandbabies, and if you're lucky, some GREAT-Grandbabies, and then it's time to go on to the other side. Never, in ten million years, would you have convinced me that it would just be a part of my life that at 25 years old, I would lose one of my dearest friends, and the true tragedy of the situation is that she would only be 23. That a man, making poor decisions, would walk away from a wreck that took her life, her father's life, and permanently change the course of her mother and husband's life forever. That the day after Thanksgiving, I would stand in front of all of her friends and family, and speak about her life that I think we can all agree was in its prime. That I was expected to smile and laugh at the memories we shared, while rejecting the anger I felt that she was the one who died while this man lived. Don't get me wrong, I didn't allow him to rob me of a day celebrating her life, but it consumed my thoughts in the days preceding and following her funeral... Sometimes even now. I found myself angry at some of the comments that I saw on her Facebook, everything from "The Lord just needed another angel!" To "God works in mysterious ways!" It infuriated me to see her life being cheapened with cliches and implications that God was  basically like "Oh no! Guys! We're down an angel... Somebody get Alyssa right now! I need her!" The simple truth is, God allowed Alyssa to go home that day. It says clear as day in the Bible that when our time is done, and we've finished the good work that He started in us, He'll take us home. And what a joy and an honor it was for me as her friend to celebrate her, to share a few of what has to be over a thousand memories, and to know so completely, based on conversations and her incessant social media posts, that Alyssa sits at the feet of Jesus, probably rubbing his feet with essential oils. Or maybe spending hours cuddling with Phoebe, her beloved cat, or Coco, the demonic chihuahua. I'd be shocked if that dog made it to the pearly gates. I say that in total snark. All dogs go to heaven, and you won't convince me otherwise... But that dog was a jerk. Mrs. Jean, if you're reading this, I'm sure you're thrilled about Coco and Phoebe, and they're probably going to be so thrilled to see you someday, but I bet I still get growled and snapped at, even though his body is healed and whole.

 

My friend, or my "BFFL," as we affectionately referred to each other, was a hot mess. She made things SO complicated. It was simultaneously endearing and my demise when it came to her. We made dinner for our husbands once, and I swear by the time it was all said and done, I was prepared to burn down the house before ever cooking together again. In the kitchen, I'm very much a control freak, and she was sincerely a terrible cook. God bless her, she tried so hard, but it was just... Nope. After that day, if we ate together, Tyler cooked or we went out. It was the best thing for our friendship. Booking reservations, planning trips, picking a Christmas card, or even choosing a salad off of a menu was such an exhausting process with her. And while it used to drive me insane, in hindsight, I can look back and see that she wanted to have the best possible experience in the time she was given. I don't think Alyssa ever really imagined dying young, but she had a very real, tangible sense of how precious time is. "ALYSSA! I DONT CARE, I DONT CARE, I DONT CARE!!!" Was typically followed by "I NEED YOU TO CARE BECAUSE I CANT DECIDE!" Servers hated us, our husbands gave up on trying, and most people knew we were around from the frustrated groans, followed by bursts of laughter. When I was pregnant with my daughter, Alyssa's hand was permanently on my stomach, waiting for Ella to move. I mean, we're talking I was 9 weeks pregnant and she was waiting for the baby to move. We lived in a pretty permanent state of me swatting her hand away, as I didn't like my stomach being touched, and her saying "Hate me less!" and moving it right back. The day that I found out I was pregnant, she had text me early in the day (totally oblivious that I was sitting in the doctor's office, waiting for bloodwork.) "Let's go to Vegas for New Year's! Flights are on sale!" While driving to her house after breaking the news to Cody, she text me and said "OR NOT! Whatever!" So I called her, because I'm the poster child for safe driving (heh) and said "Hey, sorry. Can't go to Vegas." An annoyed sigh huffed into my ear, followed by "Whhhhhy?" I could hardly contain my giggles as I said "Because I'll be 3 months pregnant." Shrieks. Shouts. Tears. "Come over!" she begged. As I pulled into her driveway, I saw the blinds close, where she had stood, watching and waiting to see my car. The front door flew open, and she ran right past my open arms and started doing cartwheels in the front yard. A little over a year later, she called me and said "Let's go to Vegas for New Years! Ella will be weaned!" "Cant," I said through muffled tears. "Whhhhhhhy?" She growled. "I'll be 9 months pregnant." I said as the tears broke. I swear, our sisterhood bonded us that day, because I don't think she really had any plans to go to Vegas on New Years, but she sensed there was something weird. I had just found out the day before, and I was in denial about it all. She shrieked and screamed and cried the whole drive over to my house, and when I opened the door, she ran past my open arms and instead into Ella's. Shrieking about being a big sister and how excited she was for Ella. Those two... I swear. I never had a sister, but somehow, my kids ended up with an Aunt. Adam and Alyssa never really had the chance to bond the way Alyssa and Ella did, but how precious it was to watch the two of them together. One day, when Ella was little, Alyssa kicked me out of the room and sat with Ella for over an hour, begging her to laugh. She finally sighed and said "FINE! DON'T LAUGH!" and Ella chuckled. And that's all it took. She sat for another thirty minutes, growing more and more excited each time Ella laughed. It's always been my most cherished memory between the two of them. To look in on them from the other room, and see the way my friend loved my baby. I don't know that I could have loved anybody else's kids the way she loved mine. She told me once, "Who knows if I'll ever have kids. I'll just love yours." I rolled my eyes at her statement and said "Oh, whatever, Alyssa." And how eerie those words seem now. How blessed and fortunate I am that she "adopted" and loved my babies so well, along with several other families that she latched on to over the years. So Alyssa was right, she never had kids... but I have no doubts that she caught little glimpses of the depths of a mother's love. It made her better and made her more compassionate, if that's even possible.

At her service, the Pastor made a great point about Alyssa living her entire life never knowing an unloved moments. She was born from a woman that didn't raise her, but loved her enough to let her go. From there, she was immediately placed into the arms of Ardis and Mrs. Jean, and I stand certain that God has a heart for adoption, and the Hayslips did an incredible job of portraying the love that God shows us as his adopted sons and daughters. From their home, she flew straight into the arms of Tyler, where she spent four years learning that sometimes she wouldn't get her way, and other times, Tyler would have moved heaven and earth to see her smile. From Tyler's arms, she went into the arms of Jesus, and Tyler promised me it was just like closing her eyes and it was over. She didn't suffer, she didn't hurt, she didn't have to beg for her life to go one way or the other. In an instant, the good work that He started in her was finished, and now she dances (probably to the Backstreet Boys) with Jesus, surrounded by all of the love that she had come to experience on earth as a daughter of Christ.

We sang "How He Loves" at her service. It was a song I requested, partially because it was a song that Alyssa was continuously doodling in her countless journals, and partially because they were words I needed to hear that day. And in the darkness that overshadowed that day... in the midst of the sleet and bitter cold that somehow matched the way I was feeling when I walked into the church... he came down to meet me. Tears fell down my face as I extended my arms as far to the heavens as they would reach (yeah, yeah, that's not very far, I know.) In my time of darkness and despair, I reached out to Jesus, and He came down to meet me. Peace. Relief. Joy, even. To celebrate my friend reaching eternity, leaving behind the earth that troubled her heart so frequently. To slip into a place with no tears, suffering, anger, or rejection. To know, even for the briefest of moments, that there was no doubt in my mind that the Lord is real, and that He is sovereign in every circumstance. That He wants to know me, and to comfort me. How beautiful and precious that in saying goodbye to her, I was somehow drawn closer to Him, and I think that's just the effect that Alyssa had on everybody she came in contact with.

My initial plan was to publish one blog to honor her and let that be it. And for all I know, that could be what happens... but grief is a process, and I don't know that I can say confidently that this is the only time I'll write about her. I still find myself screenshotting hilarious things on Facebook to send her. It's something we've done so many times that I don't even think before I push the buttons. Sometimes it's at the expense of other people (don't pretend you don't do it,) sometimes it's a meme, sometimes it's a memory that Facebook pops up, and sometimes it's just me looking for any little piece of her. My heart always drops after I open my text messages and see that her name is gone from my list, since I got a new phone just before Christmas because my toddler smashed my last one. Our last conversation was just small talk to each other, except we were texting in Madea voices and everything ended in "Er" or "Rt." Thank Yur Vur Murch. Ya know, normal things that two married adults take delight in. We hadn't seen much of each other in the past several months, outside of borrowing things from each other (she lived seven houses down) and an occasional pop into the house to love on my kids. Life is just funny that way. I guess the good thing about it is that it hasn't made her absence seem so real. I'm sure I would have been completely devastated if I had gone from seeing her every day to never seeing her. Occasionally, she would text me and say "It's been too long since I've seen you." and so we'd both walk to the end of our driveways, wave, dance around a little bit, and then go back inside. But we text nearly everyday, and if there was a major life event, we were on the phone. It's so hard to fathom that a friendship so dear to me has ended, but to live a life so changed because of one human being inspires me to strive to leave my own legacy.

There's never really a good way to end these things. Nothing seems fitting other than to say that I miss her presence in my life. I'll pester her husband to let me go into there house just to feel closer to her for years to come, I imagine. Poor Tyler. He just thought he'd seen the last of Kaylea Gaines. We've drawn closer to each other, mostly because we're not afraid to talk about her, and occasionally to bring up the things that used to drive us crazy about her. Like ordering asinine amounts of blue cheese and extra cilantro cream sauce at Wall Street. Easily in my top ten embarrassing moments. I think she made a server so mad once that they ended up with like, ten dollars in "extra cheese" charges. It's been an honor to walk through this life with her, and an honor to say goodbye... for now. And until I choose to write about her again, know that I am at utmost peace. I still seek justice for her circumstances, but I also hope that this is the game changer for the man responsible. That in the midst of whatever plays out, his life is changed, and he comes to know forgiveness. Will this be an easy thing to remember when that time comes? Probably not. But it's my prayer that Lord focus my eyes on him, not the things of earth, and to remember that what happened to her is over, and she's oblivious to my vigilante rants. He's overcome death, and overcome the grave, and I delight in knowing Jesus as a true Rescuer and Redeemer.

"So much of me is made of what I learned from you. You'll be with me like a handprint on my heart, and know whatever way our stories end, I know you have re-written mine by being my friend...

Who can say if I've been changed for the better? I do believe I have been changed for the better. Because I knew you, I have been changed for good..."

Turtle and Gus: Month Ten

10 months old on Christmas day. Things really don't get much more adorable than that setting.

I'm still at a bit of a writer's block. I think maybe it's because when I blog, I try to make sure that I'm in a quiet room, with coffee, the clicking of the keys and my thoughts as the only noise. Occasionally, John Mayer plays in the background, but I usually ending up singing along more than blogging. So maybe I'm having such a hard time "getting back on the blog horse" because I'm actually alone with my thoughts, and lately, the heaviness there feels like too much. And I don't want to mislead anyone, because for the most part, I'm really pretty great. I'm at peace with what's happened, but as it seems to happen when babies are involved, there hasn't been much time to sit and dwell on it. It's here, in this quiet stillness that the reality of it all kind of settles in... and I can't say that I love it.

Regardless, my babies have done a fantastic job at finding new tricks and distractions to keep me from climbing into a shell of sadness. Sometimes I appreciated those distractions, like when Adam learned Pat-a-cake and we did it (do it) literally fifteen times per day. Or maybe when Ella learned how to  count to 35, and we did it (do it) thirty-five times a day. My husband survived Christmas time at a church, which anybody who lives in a 100 mile radius of Stonegate now knows was kind of a huge deal. But that huge deal included a week of late nights at work, and early morning returns. I spent a week alone with my kids, and while exhausting, it was welcomed. Adam figured out that his legs move, and if he could only understand that he has to alternate legs, we'd have a walker. He does pretty well with "Right, Left, Right, Left" for about six steps, but then tries a double left, and it's all over. It's still pretty amazing that he had most of it figured out about a week before his 10 month birthday though, especially as fat as his legs are. I think they know Mom is a little distracted, because while busy and chaotic (Like dumping a bag of Doritos in the floor), they were pretty sweet. Sure, there were moments, and an occasional text to Cody that said "This is it. This is how it ends," but for the most part, it was just a week of soaking in this season with my babies.

Now that Adam is extremely mobile, we're seeing a little bit of that baby fat melting away, and I'm of course having some feelings about it. He's still massive, of course, but he's looking less michelin and more little boy. The dimples on his butt are still super prominent, but I can actually count the rolls on his legs now. A tooth filled grin (with the world's funniest gap between the top two) replaced the sweet gummy smile that I've grown to love so deeply. A curiosity for all things real food replaced an incessant need to nurse. Cuddling and face to face slumbers were replaced with a need for space and refusal of covers. Basically what I'm saying here is that baby phase is being taken away from me and I'm not fine with it. Contrary to raising Ella, I have never wished Adam older than he is today. Even on hard days, I was content to be cuddling my baby. A piece of me knew that this was it, and I needed to soak in every second. Now, I should clarify. Some days I would here a sad song on that radio that promised me that "I was going to miss this" and I would shout back "NO I WILL NOT!" and "It won't be like this for long" and I would say "Thank the LORD." Or sometimes when an exceptionally corny one like "Butterfly Kisses" came on, I would just turn it off. There are things that I won't miss, and you won't convince me otherwise. I will not miss excessive clutter, I won't miss messes under the high chair, nor will I miss sleepless nights or fits of rage after a nap cut short. I will miss muddy toes and watching tiny hands pick tomatoes off of the plants and eat them without a thorough washing. I'll miss the glimmer in their eyes when Daddy comes home after being at work all day. I'll miss faces of confusion and disgust after trying new vegetables for the first time. The little things that make the big picture are what I'll miss, but probably not the things that make me wonder what the big picture will look like.  Just one of those things that you have to experience to understand, I guess.

Ella Morgan is her usual sassy self. I'm almost scared to type that she's been exceptionally healthy lately, and we've never been more relieved. We went through nine really horrendous months with that girl, and I'll be the first to tell you that I told Cody on multiple occasions "Something is wrong here. That can't be her personality." And the healthier she gets, the more I begin to see that I was right. The screaming tantrums, the hour long fights we had everyday, the whiny, the overall unpleasantness of her personality is slowly melting away, and the sweet sugar baby that we knew for so long is peeking back through... and I am ELATED. She's been without an ear infection since October, and I am cautiously optimistic that we're on the other side of this mess. She is brilliant, anxious to learn, and altogether lovely. She's truly the joy of my heart. 

I touched briefly on a blog a couple of months ago that I felt like I was kind of coming into myself lately, and I'm more convinced than ever that the Lord is preparing me for something. I don't know what it is, but I'm so excited and anxious to see it unfold. I often wondered what in the WORLD he was thinking by giving me, the Queen of stressed out, two babies under two, but maybe he wanted to knock those babies out so that it would push me to find the best version of myself lately. These kiddos have been the very center of my existence for almost three years now, and while I plan on that staying mostly the same, there's been a stirring in my soul to pursue some dreams of mine. I might be listening to a little too much Mayer, because I've written "It might be a quarter life crisis, or just a stirring in my soul..." three or four times over the past few weeks. It would be a lie to say that Alyssa's passing didn't spark a few more of these feelings. When she died, she was in the prime of her life, chasing dreams and boldly pursuing the Lord in her endeavors. And I had to truthfully admit to myself and the Lord that I wasn't doing the same. So my "word" for 2016 is "Awaken." Initially, my word was going to be "Brave," because it's really taking all of the guts I have to pursue some of these things, but as song lyrics usually do, a few have really spoken to me lately.

"In these bodies we will live, and in these bodies we will die. Where you invest your love, you invest your life." - Awake My Soul, Mumford and Sons

"When it feels like my dreams are so far, sing to me of the plans that You have for me over again." - Only Hope, Switchfoot

"Don't for a minute change the place you're in." - Stop This Train, John Mayer

"Hello, it's me." - HA! Just kidding. But really, don't pretend Adele didn't change your life. 

Basically, I've dubbed this "stirring in my soul" as an awakening. To chase some dreams, love my husband, see some different cities, and plant a garden so big that I feel overwhelmed. To be okay with leaving the kids with my Mom for a weekend in the name of true connection and time with my best friend. To be bold enough in God given talents to pursue them. To be confident in my children and loving them for the way God made them, rather than the kids I want. I'm excited for the year to come, and I even bought a planner. Not for our plans... but for my dreams. Each day I write down something I did that I was proud of, and something I'd like to do. I don't expect to all of these things this year, but it's a dream, in writing, trusting God to do what He wants to with it. A journal is the same concept, yes, but this planner is put out by one of my favorite "artists" and I wasn't turning away from it.

So here's to 2016 and the courage to awaken. In the meantime, look at my adorable baby. You'll have to excuse his hobbit hair, we can't get a hair appointment scheduled lately to save our lives. 

"No, it won't all go the way it should, but I know the heart of life is good..."