For my mother.

My little boy is just shy of 7 months old. He's incredibly personable, laughing, babbling, and responding to us in different ways. He is one of my life's greatest joys. I cannot fathom something happening to him. I let my mind go there sometimes, though I know I shouldn't. I've imagined walking into his room to find him lifeless in his crib more times than I can count. I imagine what I would do, what Justin would do. What our families would do and say when they heard the news. How we would feel coming home to his decorated nursery after he was gone. Packing up his clothes and toys. I know- it's horrible! The very thought of anything like that happening causes an actual pain in my chest. I cannot believe the horror that I only imagine, was in fact a reality for my mother.

I was only 4 when my brother, Dustin, died of SIDS on January 29, 1988. He was 7 months old. I only vaguely remember the day. Some of my memories, I'm not sure are even memories, or if they are simply images I developed as a result of being told the story. I've shared the details of the day with friends and coworkers through the years. I've always been sad for my mother, seeing how upset she becomes when she talks about it. She doesn't dwell in the sadness of it, so you will not catch her talking about it often. Though she will happily tell you about him, if you ask. I used to think I knew how awful it must have been for her- at least had a vague idea. But I was wrong.

I look at my little boy now, and tears come to my eyes at what my mother has lost. I had no clue what losing a baby might be like. And unless, God forbid, something like that happens to Owen- I will never know. But I do now understand the love of a mother for her child. It's a bond I truly cannot imagine being broken. In my head I know that if ever the worst happen, I would have to trust God and remind myself that "His ways are not my ways". But I don't know if I'd have the strength to say that if it actually happened. I have a new sense of wonder and amazement for my mom. While she has always expressed the pain of losing Dusty, she has also always acknowledged how God carried them through and how he worked in the hearts of so many others following Dusty's death.

I know you can't live in fear of all the "what if's" that occur in this life, but it's so hard as a Mom to handle all the worry, or more importantly, to hand all the worry over to God. Especially when you've seen tragedy strike so close to home- or your very own home for that matter. We take caution where we need to and use common sense, of course. But the rest must be entrusted to him. 

When I put Owen down for bed at night, I routinely rock him and sing, "Jesus Loves Me". Every now and then, I catch myself tearing up (no surprise there) at the lyric, "..Little ones to Him belong..."  I love being reminded of this. It is so comforting to know that Jesus DOES love Owen, and that Owen ultimately belongs to Him. I rest a little easier, knowing that no matter what, my baby boy will be safe in the arms of Jesus.

 Thank you Mom, for the powerful example you are to me in this area. Your strength is a testament to His strength.