the horizon…

When I was 19 weeks pregnant with our oldest son, Chad and I went on a cruise. After we boarded, we were told we’d be leaving later than scheduled due to weather. We toured the ship, completed our muster drill and had dinner. When we went to bed, we were still in the Gulf of Mexico enjoying smooth waters.

When we woke up the next morning, we were in the Atlantic and our smooth sailing was over. We were going “around” Hurricane Rita, but even 250 miles away she was causing some crazy waves. We made our way to the dining area, but I was so sick I could barely make it to the closest bathroom. My only thought was to head back to our room, get in bed and sleep until the cruise was over, but I had no idea how that would happen. Then someone told me to focus on the horizon…they said even when the waves are rough and the ship is rolling, the horizon never moves. Surprisingly, it worked. Focusing on the horizon did not calm the ocean or make the ship stop rocking, but it brought me peace and settled me in the middle of the hard.

I’ve often used waves and the ocean as a way to describe my grief. I think the memory of that cruise is a perfect way to describe the journey we’ve been on the past three years.

When Paxton died, it was like we had just boarded the ship. The seas seemed calm (manageable) as we completed the initial “tour and drills” of child loss…meeting with the funeral director, choosing a casket and planning Paxton’s visitation and memorial service.

However, the day after all of that was over, I woke up to the roughest seas I’ve ever faced. We weren’t close to a hurricane, we were right in the middle of it. I was being tossed about. I was sick (both physically and emotionally) and all I could think about was getting back in bed and sleeping until it was over, but I had no idea how that would happen.

Unfortunately, this journey will never be over. But, like the cruise, if I focus on Jesus, I can find peace, joy and comfort during the pain. There are still rough waters…some days are more turbulent than others. Focusing on the horizon doesn’t take the grief or pain away. It does remind me that the one who created the horizon also created the waves and promised to hold me through them.

When Paxton was in the hospital, I would stay with him during the day and Chad would stay with him at night. Every morning on my way there, I would listen to worship music. One morning, the song that resonated with me was “Oceans” by Hillsong. Especially the part that says:

And I will call upon Your Name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Hours later, a tech came in to perform an EKG. Paxton was asleep and lights were low so we didn’t talk much. Before he started putting the leads on Paxton, he turned some music on his phone. As he laid his phone down “Oceans” started playing. What a God kiss to know that it was no coincidence that a tech I had never seen before would feel led to not only play worship music, but would also choose that song.

I love being by the ocean. I marvel at its vastness and the sound of the waves brings peace. But, I can see the storm coming. It’s been almost three years since we began this fight. It’s been 1,041 days since I last kissed my sweet boy’s face. The hurricane is just as strong as it was that first day. I miss Paxton more every day and the pain has not gone away.

Just as I learned to focus on the horizon to keep myself steady on that cruise, I’m begging for help from the horizon maker to help me focus on Him and keep me from going under whenever the waves come. I’m pleading for Him to hold my head above water because I can’t do it in my own strength. The waves are still there. The ship still rocks. And sometimes I take my eyes off the only one who can get me through. But the most beautiful and comforting thing of all is He never moves, no matter where I look or what I do.


the sea is churning

a storm is near

I hear the thunder

I feel the waves

the weight of grief

through holidays

and heaviness 

of coming dates

the pain of missing you

never fades

everything around me shakes

I cast my gaze

And fix my eyes

on my horizon

Jesus Christ

even in the the darkest nights

through the deepest water

and fiercest fight

He never moves

He’s by my side

“hollow”een

Tonight, a lot of moms I know will be spending time with their kids as they trick or treat or attend Halloween parties.  I’ll be alone.

Tonight, a lot of moms I know will be handing out candy, delighted by cute kids and crazy costumes.  My front porch light will be off.

For a lot of people, tonight will be one of enjoyment, sugar overload and memory making. For me, tonight will be another night of grief, sadness overload and memories missed.

Chad is out of town and has been worried that tonight will be hard for me.  He was right. This is a hard night for me.  But sometimes, having a hard night can be a good thing.

Sometimes, I need to sit in the sorrow.

Sometimes, I need to hurt in the hard.

Sometimes, I need to pause in the pain.

Sometimes, I need to taste the tears.

And sometimes, I need to give in to the gravity of the loss of my precious boy.

My grief is no longer overwhelming on a daily basis.  I find myself able to catch my breath and find joy between the waves. But I am not better…I am different. I am not over it…I am learning how to carry it. 

I wish the biggest hurdle I faced tonight was keeping Paxton from eating too much candy. Instead, I’m facing another Holloween  without him. It’s hollow because when Paxton was here, he brought the hype and hilarity to every Halloween. Now it’s just another slow, silent day.

I wrote “I only miss you” the first Halloween without Paxton. It seemed perfect to share again because I am missing him like crazy. Enjoy your kids tonight…no matter how big they are. And maybe let them have an extra piece of candy in honor of Pax. 


I only miss you

when the sun rises

when I open my eyes

when there are tears to dry

when I cannot cry

I only miss you

when the seasons change

when the sunlight fades

on a cloudy day

when it rains

I only  miss you

when they sky is blue

when the moon is full, crescent or new

when the grass is wet with dew

any time I think of you

I only miss you

in my dreams

when I can’ t sleep

when I’m happy

when the pain is deep

I only miss you

when I breathe

I only miss you

when my heart beats

spring (heart) break

It’s the last day of spring break. I have a love/hate relationship with spring break. Prior to 2023, I loved that we didn’t have to get up and be anywhere, but I dreaded the inevitable sibling arguments, complaints of “I’m bored”, and incessant requests to go and do. An ideal spring break would consist of quiet, rest and relaxation, but anyone who has young children knows that those moments are few and far between. Since Paxton left, my love/hate relationship with spring break has changed. I still love not having to get up and be anywhere but I hate the silence.

I have never liked silence. Don’t get me wrong, I love quiet and stillness, but I need white noise, music or some other noise in the background. Silence may be the absence of physical noise, but when it’s completely silent, my mental noise volume becomes deafening. It’s in the silence that the doubts, guilt, questions and his loss become unbearable.

I tried to embrace the silence Friday, but the sound was overwhelming. All I could hear was…why didn’t I do more? what did I miss? was he scared? The loudest thought that occupied my mind, and one that has been on my mind a lot lately, is that Paxton is missing out on so many things.

I’ve been so sad thinking about all of the firsts Paxton will never experience. He’ll never have a first kiss…not that we know of anyway. I would not be surprised at all to discover he not only had a first kiss, but multiple. 😂 He never got to drive, will never go to high school, will never fall in love or have kids..he was robbed of so many things! But, the reality is, those things are nothing compared to the joy of heaven. He can’t miss out because he’s in the most perfect, beautiful, peaceful place and he is living the fullest life possible.

So I realized that my sadness is not really about what he’s missing out on…I’m sad because the world is missing out on him. As difficult as he was at times, Paxton was an amazing kid and taught me to look at and embrace life differently. He lived more life in ten years than some people will live their entire lifetime. I wish everyone could know the boy I knew…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~missing out~

I never knew silence

could be louder than sound

but that’s what I’ve found

since you’ve been gone

I long for chaos

unending noise

the sweetness of your voice

there’s so much

you’re missing out on

all of your firsts

that makes my heart hurt

then I realize it’s the world

that’s missing out on you

and that hurts worse

the joy and fun you brought to life

you’re beautiful smile

the sparkle in your eyes

why did I waste so much time?