Tuesday, December 4, 2012


It has been two years, Will.  Hard to believe.  A lot has happened.  But some things will never change.

What has changed?  You've grown up!  You are a little man.  You make us all laugh with your sweet, funny personality.  You make us crazy with your strong will.  But, ultimately, you make your family and those close to you continually grateful for life and healing. 

What will never change?  There is still, two years later, not a day that goes by that I don't experience a rush of gratitude for the life our family has.  You represent to me second chances, miracles, and the power of healing.  On a daily basis I feel a tug within my heart that pulls me back.  That pulls me away from the insignificant and back to what really matters.  And I know others have similar reminders too.  Olivia mentions our experiences occasionally.  Last night, as we said prayers, she thanked Heavenly Father that you weren't in the hospital.  Last night, as I came to give everyone goodnight kisses after you had fallen asleep, I quietly thanked God for the privilege of being your mother and tucking you into your own bed and then tucking Lance into the bed next to yours, and having Olivia in the next room.  All under the same, safe, healthy roof.

Last year was harder.  I would get caught somewhere unexpectedly crying as the grief of the year before came rushing back.  This year I haven't experienced that.  This year even more healing has taken place.  This year we are not so tender.  But this year my gratitude is deeper.  This year I feel a greater sense of understanding.  I have come to realize that we are all going to be subject to grief, pain, sorrow, heartache.  No one can escape it.  But, when we humbly accept it and patiently work through it we are given a gift.  We are given a deeper understanding of who we are and what we can do.  But, that all great things are accomplished with faith in our Savior.  He understands and only He can pull us out of our dark pits.

So, on this second anniversary I remain the same, but different.  I am still a mother that loves you as deep as deep can go.  I am still that same mother that watched you fade away until you were almost gone.  I am that same mother that watched you cling to what little life there was left and fight like the greatest champion the world had ever known.  I am that same mother that watched you triumphantly recover and grow into the regular 'ol three year old you are today.  But, I will never again be the mother I was on December 2, 2010.  I will never again fail to appreciate the life I have and the precious gift it is.  I guess you could say I am "scarred" for life.  My "scar" is a constant reminder of the good that can come from the seemingly bad.  A constant reminder that we survived, that we are okay.  We are better than okay.  We are wonderful.  We are happy.  We are grateful.  We are moving forward.

I love you little man!!  I love you Olivia.  I love the strong, quiet reminder you are to me of goodness.  I love you, Lance.  My tough guy!  You are resilient and stubborn and the sweetest guy I know.  Mark, you are my rock.  How grateful I am for the enduring love and care you show to our children and me.  What a blessing each of you are to me.  This is our story.  May we always remember and forever be grateful to call it our own.

1 comment:

  1. Oh Betsy, you say it so well and express the feelings I have but can't explain. I love you and your sweet little family. I'm so proud of you all!