The Day that Never Came: Due Date

We were standing in line to order food. Jerry and I were stooping over his phone looking at our calendar to solidify some working dates he had coming up. As he scrolled to the date in question, there is was: Baby Motto Due. November 6th was the day. We locked eyes and mine welled up with tears as the shock hit both of us like a tidal wave. "That's right," I thought, "I would be really pregnant right now."

As the date approached, it would creep into my mind....what would I look like? Would we know what it was? How would the girls react to my growing belly? Tears would well as I walked passed the baby section of stores. My heart would ache seeing those little onesies. As the holidays come closer I realize it would have been the first holiday season for our new arrival.

It's hard to find the words to describe the due date. Yes it is just another day. I got up, went to work as usual and am now sitting at dance class waiting for my oldest to be finished. But it's also an important day I will never forget. Just like June 10th will always be when our son was supposed to come. It's a day to be sad, a day to grieve, a day to wonder...just like all the other days have been since the loss.

It's also a day that I look at my two girls and revel in their presence. I am blown away at the blessings they are to me. Today I had two separate teachers complimented MarKay. The timing is no accident. Piper brings joy to all who come in contact with her, that too is no accident. Today is a time to rejoice and give glory to God for the treasures He has given me.

This journey has been full of paradox. Grief and joy co-exist on a day like today. I don't have answers, I don't know the future, and I don't know when this ache will end. Remembrance, although painful, is powerful.  And I am truly and honestly forever grateful for today, the day that it is......and the day it would have been.

It's Just Not Fair

Time flies.  Nearly five months have passed now since our loss and I find myself getting caught up in everyday life wondering if I have ever really "dealt" with the weight of this loss and what it really means.

During the pregnancy it was discovered that my thyroid function was off.  I was referred to an endocrinologist who deemed it necessary for me to be on medication during my pregnancy.  After the loss I had the excruciating task of informing this specialist of my loss and asked wether or not to continue with the medicine.  When I arrived to my first appointment after the loss, he asked me "What happened?" I don't know buddy, I lost a baby, what did he want me to say!? I just kept repeating, "I don't know. There is no known reason."  As he proceeded to talk to me about the next step I kept hearing him refer to the miscarriage as an "abortion." He just kept saying it over and over and although I was shocked, I was just too weary, exhausted, and emotionally drained to ask him about it.  But I got to my car and cried my eyes out.  I felt insulted, maybe he didn't understand?  After leaving the scene, I consulted with my good friend in the medical field.  She confirmed that the medical term for any miscarriage under a certain number of weeks is deemed an "abortion."  This was a hard pill for me to swallow.  But I swallowed it and just kept going.  I was happy that was "over with."

A few weeks later I emptied our very full mail slot and started sorting through the mail.  I came across a bill for my "D&C missed abortion."  It was hard to see, hard to pay for, and just downright sad. In another envelope was a "welcome" letter from the labor and delivery department of my insurance......they had obviously not gotten the memo that no baby would be welcomed. Staring at these two documents was too much, I was overwhelmed with grief.The girls and I were alone and I couldn't hide my devastation.  I told them I needed to put myself on time-out and went into my room.  I started to sob and of course my girls were right there staring at me sob.  "I'm just sad girls, I'll be OK.....I just need time to be sad," I said. "What's wrong, why are you sad?" they kept asking.  I couldn't respond, I wasn't sure what to say.  After a little bit of silence I hear Piper say, "I know".  I looked at her as she said, "It's the baby." I couldn't lie and I said, "Yes, I saw some things in the mail that reminded me of losing the baby and I got sad.  I just need some time to cry and I will be OK."  "Can I stay with you Mommy?" MarKay asks with a quivering voice. "Yes baby, if you want to," I said as we laid in my bed and cried.  It was nice to not be alone yet hard to let them in.  I am in a constant battle with protecting my girls from my brokenness and allowing them to help pick up the pieces, but I am grateful for the opportunity to reveal the reality of grief to them.

As I was snuggling and tucking in Piper several weeks later, I asked her how her heart was. "I'm sad," she said.  Unsuspecting I asked, "Why?"  "Well Liam (a boy at her childcare) has his baby brother Max, and we don't have our baby.  We sent up a balloon to Jesus to ask to give us our baby back and He hasn't."  Speechless with tears running down my face I managed to say, "I'm sorry you are sad baby, I know it's hard." She turned and looked at me and with the purest innocence said, "It's just not fair."  All I could do was mutter, "You're right, you are right," I said and I gave her extra cuddles that night.  As I left her room, I went straight to mine.  I knew I needed to catch my breath and recover from this one.  I sat on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands.  I cried and sobbed and sniffed for 45 minutes.  My plan was to take only 5 minutes to recover but in reality, that wasn't going to cut it.  It struck a chord, maybe one I hadn't thought of, or allowed myself to think.....It's just not fair.

So I had my temper tantrum, I laid myself at God's feet.  I offered up my snotty tear-stained toddler self.  That was who I was, where I was, and exactly how I felt.......A kicking and screaming child yelling, "It's not fair!"

Just when I wanted to feel bad or guilty for being such a baby, being so ungrateful and selfish,  I remembered that 45 minutes ago my own child muttered those same words to me.  I heard her, understood her and hugged her extra tight.  Tears fell on her behalf, I wished I could take away her pain, her suffering. I know I can't promise her a baby, or happiness, or anything with certainty.  But I can be there and love her through these moments.  As I laid in bed I realized, my Heavenly Father too cares.  He listens, understands, and gathers each and every tear of mine.  He knows my pain, my suffering......He wraps His arms around my tantrums and He may even be saying, "You're right, it's not fair."

I sat and thought about how much I love my daughters and my husband and I have to think about how much more my Heavenly Father loves me.  Even among my confusion, my questioning, my stubborn self-pity, I know that I am not alone.  My hope is not in happiness, it's not in comfort or security.  I know that my days here on Earth will have turmoil, I know that circumstances will constantly rob me of normalcy. Putting my hope on anything other than God will always fail me.  Even on the days when I feel failed by God, I look around and see my two beautiful girls, my amazing husband, and numerous blessings, too many to name.  Even in my "unfair" status, my life is pretty amazing.

Yes the term "abortion" isn't fair, my ironic welcome letter and D & C bill arriving on the same day isn't fair.  My daughters struggling through grief isn't fair.  Losing a son and 5 years later another child isn't fair. LIFE ISN'T FAIR. It's in this truth that I realize, this life can't give me joy. My hope, my joy is in God, my Heavenly Father who wraps his arms around my broken heart and wipes every tear away.  One day there will be no sorrow or pain.  My only prayer for my remaining days here on Earth is that even in my tantrums, my pain and suffering, God will get all the Glory of every blessing He has bestowed upon me.

Remember That Part In Frozen?

It was a typical day like any other.  We had been running errands and realized dinner time was just around the corner. We decided to grab dinner, after ordering our meal we were settling down in our seats.  As I was hustling to get everything we needed, MarKay started to ask, "Hey mom, remember that part in Frozen when Elsa falls to the ground and cries because she heard that Anna had died?" 

"Yes, I think....she falls a lot in that movie," I replied. "It's when she falls and all the snow stands still and everything stops," she explains. The scene came to mind and I remember it being a beautiful yet devastating moment.  "Yeah I remember that part, why?" I asked, wondering where she could possibly be going with all this.  She looked at me with her big brown eyes and without hesitation she said, "That's how I felt when I heard we lost the baby."

So here we were in the middle of Chipotle eating our dinner and then this.  My heart dropped as I let those words pierce through my skin and sink in. I sat wondering how to respond, I was completely thrown off. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and just sob. But she didn't appear to be in distress or heartbroken, she was just matter of fact, she was just informing me. She was telling me her inner feelings, something she connected with a movie she had seen a hundred times before. She didn't care that we were in the middle of eating with people all around, or how it would make me feel, or that she may upset me.  I wanted to honor that and support her without making her feel like she was destroying me all over again.  Finally after what seemed like an eternity, I knew what to tell her. "You want to know a secret?" I asked. Her eyes were eager as she looked at me with curiosity. "Yes," she said with delight.  I leaned in and whispered in her ear,  "I felt the same exact way when I heard we lost the baby. You and I felt exactly the same."  I could see her excitement and relief, like she wasn't alone or dumb or silly. We hugged and I thanked her so much for sharing with me how she felt. I told her she can tell me anything and I would be there for her. 

It was important for me to not shut this moment out. I've been working on being present with every emotion I have, even the hard ones.  As I shared with Jerry on the way home, tears started to fall, I was doing it.....I was letting the pot boil over. Even as I sit here typing this in a crowded Starbucks, tears are flowing. 

There is something about my child wearing my heart on the outside of my body.  I have done or "been" so many things for my children during these last couple of months. But this time, my daughter did something for me. She was vulnerable, communicating her feelings freely without reservation in the safety of my reaction. Although I wonder if crying in front of her would have been a "better" reaction, I know that it wasn't the authentic response I had for her at that moment......and that's OK.  It was a great moment. One where I had pride for her....and for me. 

Piper has had those moments too. I was learning a new worship song and playing it over and over in the car on our way to church. MarKay asked me what the words meant. I said, "It means even when we are broken God still loves us and can use us. We can go to Him whether we are happy, or sad, or mad and He will always be there for us."  Then a little voice from the back said, "Even if we are sad like when the baby died." "Yes baby, that's actually what I was thinking," I said. After all, it was and is how I view so many worship songs...through the lens of sorrow. Maybe Piper does too. 

And maybe just maybe I'm not as alone in all this as I think. I have two girls who join me in their own way. God calls us to be more like a child.  In Mark 10:15 Jesus says, "Truly I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child will not enter it at all (NASB)." They live fully in the moments of life. Piper may be throwing a tantrum but she is 100% committed to how she is feeling at that moment. MarKay may just be inquisitive and curious about life and death, but she has no fear in expressing it.  They are innocent in their feelings and reactions to them. Wow, it is so pure and humbling to me. I want to be more like that.  I want to be more like that towards my Heavenly Father.

I'm starting to realize that I thank God for these hidden treasures of moments in time that I will never have again with my girls.  Each moment will bring its own challenges, insights, and lessons for me to learn. Each conversation will reveal their hearts to me as well as my own.  Wherever this road leads, I pray these bumps continue to happen and provide healing for us all.  After all, we are all broken vessels swimming in God's amazing grace.

Detached

I sat across from a dear friend I hadn't seen in awhile the other day and we began to "catch up."  I started to go through the last 2 months and just run at the mouth about life. I was very matter of fact and going through the 8 weeks as if I was checking off a list of happenings. After a little while of talking, I looked up and my friends eyes were filling with tears as she shook her head in disbelief. She consoled me with "I'm sorry's" and "that's horrible" and "I just can't believe it." As she sat there clearly upset for me I realized I was not.  I was detached from the words coming out of my mouth, detached from the emotions that accompany these happenings.  I've been out of touch with the real, the raw, and the ugly.

Since the loss I went back to the worst 2 months in a year-round teacher's life...the last month and the first month back to back. With open house and back to school night and saying goodbye to saying hello...I feel like a walking zombie on a normal year. But this year I called it survival mode, Just. Keep. Going.

Knowing this couldn't possibly be healthy, I consulted my counselor. "How do I deal with  everything else going on? I don't have the capacity..." I told her. She responded, "Put it in a small box not very far away and we will open it when you go off. Right now you do need to focus on a day at a time."

And so here I am sharing with my friend, stone cold.  I'm telling her the countless doctor appointments I've had with new doctors, where the loss is just another medical condition. Where thyroid specialists call it an abortion and receptionists unknowingly ask how I'm feeling and how many weeks am I now. Where I have to explain my "medical condition" over and over to new people as well as hear how abnormal it is for me to have 2 healthy children and 2 late miscarriages. Countless tests have been run all with no explaination.

I explained how my children have suffered, processed, and remembered. From them asking when Jesus is going to give us the baby back to MarKay recalling the moment she heard the baby died because she heard the same song that was playing in the car at that time. I recounted that the first time I met my doctor was her coming in to verify the baby's death.......and so on and so on.

So here I am, off-track, which means it is time to open the box.  I feel like ripping it open and diving in but as I crack it open, it is just overwhelming.  I sat across from my counselor and talked about what seemed like dumb petty stuff. My anxiety's in my relationships, being a mom, struggling with what seems like insurmountable selfishness, and work.  Near the end of the session I just said, "So when are we getting to the baby? This stuff is petty and it pisses me off. I want to get to the real ish, the real problem." She leaned into the couch from her office chair and said, "We are talking about the baby.  Whether you think this is processing or not, everything you are dealing with comes from the loss."

It's true. All the little things I'm dealing with were not what I was dealing with "before." It's new, and yucky, and ugly. It's my new normal.

My counselor also senses my disconnect with my emotions. After being in survival mode for 2 months I'm not in touch with myself. I don't know where I am at or how I am feeling about much of anything (except for all the unhealthy things). Next session I'm working with a sand tray....hmmmm ok......and my homework is to play with clay, play-doh, or a stress ball for 20 min whenever I can. Does typing count? I'm doing that!

Spiritually I've been honest, overwhelmed, and still. It's the one area that I say, "Well last time I...." a lot. But this time it's different no matter how much I think I can handle it, I can't. I've drawn and loved on Romans 8:26.

In the same way the Spirit also helps our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we should, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.

There has been a lot of interceding I have asked for. I continue to ask you to pray on my behalf as well. Pray that I am kind to myself during this process, that I am reminded of the immeasurable love that Christ has for me. That I am not a mere vessel of carrying pain but that my suffering will matter one day. That I would not make a list of "should's" for myself but make a list of "be's."  And more than anything, Gods mercy would be evident towards me during this time and if there is anything worthy of praise, that He would receive all of the glory.

When I open this "box" of emotion it seems like a never-ending uphill climb.  But every motion I take (step, stride, or crawl) uphill is one closer to the top. I'm ready to take on the hard work of re-engaging.....it's hard and vulnerable and messy but there is hope, and love, and strength given to me by so many of my blessings all along the way. Which makes everyday worth living in a real, honest and ugly way.

Notes to Heaven

Notes to Heaven

The last two weeks have been quite the emotional roller coaster.  Being back to the routine of "normal" has brought circumstantial highs and emotional lows.  From first day back at work to first doctor appointment since the surgery, to co-leading a training, I just felt so all over the place. I was afraid I wouldn't have time to process all this.  I was afraid I would fill my emotional capacity with the everyday clutter and not take the important moments to just "be" the hot mess I was.

And then there are my girls.  They are old enough to understand this loss and I wasn't sure they were able to process and say everything they had on their hearts.  After much counsel, we decided to have a moment where they can write a note to either Jesus or the baby. We tied the notes to a balloon of their choice and sent it up to heaven.

MarKay being bright enough asks me, "Do the balloons really make it to heaven?" "That's the idea," I said.  "But what if it pops or gets stuck?, she wondered. "The great thing about that is if it doesn't make it to heaven, Jesus already knows what we wrote, sending it up is more for us. It helps us let go of anything we are wanting to say" I said.

And with that she was off to get a piece of paper.  She needed time to think about what she wanted to say so Piper was first:

Oh the innocence of a child.  PJ being the youngest and the least able to understand was letting her prayer be heard that she wanted the baby back.

MarKay wanted to write to the baby and to Jesus.

    

Other than really wanting twins, MarKay showed me that she believes her baby is safe in heaven having fun.  This shows that she loves Jesus, and she already practices dwelling on things good, lovely, true, and honorable.  By thanking Jesus in her note for the world, she understands Philippians 4:8 so much better than I do.

As for me, I've talked to God, I've told him the good, the bad, and the ugly.  But I don't think I thought to write my child a note.  Although it is a very strange thought that I had housed my deceased child for a month.... once I realized it would be my last day holding him/her, I was sad.  I just reveled in writing my son or daughter what was in my heart.

What I didn't foresee in this whole exercise was what came from my girls' hearts after we released the notes.  When we came home, Piper was so happy.  She said, "Jesus is going to bring the baby back now."  "Why do you think that?" I asked.  "Because we sent him a note asking for the baby back and now he will send us the baby!" she said.  I looked at Jerry knowing that this was going to be a conversation I wasn't sure how to have.  We sat her down and talked to her about how Jesus doesn't always give us what we ask for. We talked about how He gives us what's best for us.  I told her I have asked for a lot of money before but I know that it it might not be what is best for me.  I asked her if she loved candy and asked for it all the time, did she think it would be good for her? As the words were coming out of my mouth, I was listening to my own voice realizing that I was learning so much from this.  I might not like what I'm hearing, and Piper might not either but it is true and good and right.

Well the conversation went in one ear and out the other because the next day at church both girls were announcing that they sent up a note to Jesus to bring the baby back and He will.

Oh how my heart knew that this is just a lifelong lesson that even I am still trying to understand.  Their innocence just makes me feel like a child myself in my relationship with God.  I was careful not to correct them or tell my them they were wrong for asking or wrong for thinking what they did.  I know they will learn as life goes on.  God will come through for them on many and most occasions and when it seems like He doesn't, I want them to feel the freedom to ask, wonder, and plead with Him.  I know He will meet them in that, He will love them through it, and He will never leave them.

So in this, I will dwell.  It was a pure moment.  One that was painful yet beautiful.  One that was true and honest.  One that that was of good repute and worthy of praise. It was a moment that I will never forget.  I pray it gives God all the Glory, for in our weakness, He is strong.

Here Again

Here Again


On Wednesday May 21st I had my 16 week check-up.  These check-ups always bring a certain level of anxiety for me until I get to hear that sweet baby heartbeat and then I know all is well.  The appointment started out as usual and then came that dreaded moment when the nurse practitioner started looking for the heartbeat.  I knew right away the result was going to be tragic as I had flashbacks of 5 years ago going through my head.

The doctor came in to give me an in-room ultrasound and on the monitor I saw my sweet lifeless baby.  Shock set in as I realized I was going through the nightmare again that rocked my world and still shapes me today.  The baby was 12 1/2 weeks, this is exactly what happened with Jerin but just a month earlier.

I sat in the room awaiting paperwork to sign for a DNC, something of which I had heard of but had no experience of.  I realized that the next day was my birthday and also the last day I would be pregnant. I also realized that all this really, really, really sucked.

I had two girls at home who would understand this in their own way, two beautiful pure souls that I didn't want to tarnish with anguish but knew there was no way around it.

As I sat in the parking lot waiting for Jerry to come get me I wondered how I was possibly going to do this again.  I still am.

Here's how I am doing......really:

The verse we as a family have adopted, secured and written on our wall is Philippians 4:8

Finally brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.

Right now I can't take it "a day at a time," so I take it minute by minute.  I seek the things from the above verse.  I am so relieved that sadness, anger, morning and grieving are "pure" and "true." And I also revel in the amazing gifts of my two precious and beautiful girls that I am so so blessed to have.  The amazing love and spirit in my husband is so evident right now.  The overwhelming support I have gotten from my friends, even acquaintances from Facebook and my church family (this is truly where the word family comes into reality). My family who has gone through so much with me these last 5 years are suiting up again for the next.  I could go on and on of these "lovely, honorable, and worthy of praise" gifts I have.

And I would be lying if I didn't feel, think or believe things that are not honorable, right, pure, lovely, etc.....I do.  I allow them to come, I'm thinking of getting a jar for those things because those too are real.  I want to think and feel them, write them down and then bind them up and give them to God to cast them out on my behalf.
Here's some specifics on what to pray for:

Mornings are the worst time for me.  I open my eyes and realize that this is really happening, it's true.  Pray for me in the morning.

Pray I find balance in caring for, protecting, and processing with my girls.  My first instinct is to protect them for this sadness of mine but I know they will learn so much from this authentic struggle.  I pray for guidance on this.

Pray for my husband as he is just remarkable but  also has had a loss.  Pray he too can process while taking care of me and the girls.

As this week brings the "normal" routine back into reality, the usual simple things are very difficult and emotionally exhausting.  Pray I can ask for help when needed and that  God would give me the strength to go about the day.

Pray for the three aspects in my life: physical, emotional, spiritual.  Pray I can rest in not feeling "normal" in these areas, that I would give myself time and patience (I'm not good at this usually so this is even more heightened).

Last of all I want to thank you.  I know you clicked on this link knowing you wouldn't be reading a happy story.  You probably knew you would cry and feel heartache with me.  It is such a blessing knowing you are willing to meet me where I'm at.  Those of you who have journeyed with me through this blog for 5 years, thank you for joining me on this path.  My prayer is somehow, someway God will make my suffering matter but most of all, my life even in sorrow would bring Him glory.  I pray that upon you as well.  Love to you all.

Stay tuned, I'm going to have a lot to say in the coming years.

The Other Side of the Computer Screen

Ten days after the 5th year of our son's death My husband and I were faced with the opportunity to share our "story" of Jerin. I was going to look people in the eye and share the depths of my heart to strangers. It was going to be the first time I would talking about this from the other side of my computer screen,

The strangers my husband and I would be sharing with were living at the OC Rescue Mission.  These people have a story to tell themselves, one of pain, despair, and desperation. Some have battled addiction and homelessness, and they knew, understood, and lived hopelessness.

As the day of sharing grew closer, I became more afraid.  I knew these poor unsuspecting bystanders would get side blinded by the rawness and realness of our son.  I feared their response, I feared my response.  Another thing that weighed tremendously heavy on my heart as time drew near was the responsibility of representing God and sharing about my tumultuous relationship with Him.  I wanted to be the perfect blend of sharing hope and the reality of being a suffering Christian.

Honestly it was impossible for me to know what exactly to share.  Thirty minutes to share five years of our life was just too overwhelming.  So I got on my knees and prayed. I prayed for those who were coming, I prayed that Jerry and I would meet each of them where they were at.  I prayed for the Holy Spirit to guide our story where it should go and I prayed for the enemy to be bound. That was it.  That was my preparation.

The 20 minute drive there was pretty silent as Jerry and I talked over a few details. I felt like I was driving to a funeral.  I had a true sense of "my audience" and I knew somehow, someway, these souls would relate to us.  I felt sad knowing we were going to join together in grief, in questioning, and in pain.

Once we arrived, we looked at each other and I said, "This may be the first and last time we ever do this, let's be as vulnerable as we can." We walked hand in hand inside. There were about 30 people (way more than I had expected), and the room was buzzing as they all chatted and laughed as they caught up.  I looked around and took a deep breath. Here we go.

After our introduction we got on stage and started.  What happened over the course of 40 minutes seems like another world and lifetime.  There were tears and nodding of heads.  There was gasps and open jaws.  As we shared the tragedy and as I shared my honest journey with Christ I wondered, "Am I going to far? Am I the only one who feels this way? Will they kick me out?"

Some of these students see both my husband and I on stage at church every Sunday.  I wasn't worried about them knowing our story.  I was also looking forward to have them see that even broken people can still love God. Even flawed, questioning, and suffering souls can still raise their hands in praise.  I saw the realization of this sink in to each person as we barred our souls.

After we shared there was a few minutes for a Q & A time. One question sank in and penetrated my inner being, it shook my core and reminded me why I have passion in sharing my story.  The question was, "Did you ever feel guilty having the feelings you did towards God?"  Yes. Yes. Yes.  This is it.  This confirmed why I feel so strongly about  being a suffering Christian.  It's why I sit behind this computer and why I'm willing to get on the other side of it.

My response to her was something like this, "Yes. Yes. Yes.  I'm still afraid to admit my true feelings sometimes.  But I've learned more than anything that God already knew and created my hidden feelings towards Him....good, bad, and ugly.  He is the safest place for me to share my innermost anguish with.  I felt as a Christian I needed to show strength at all times, but that bound me up.  I couldn't possibly share my true thoughts to another Christian!  However, taking off the perfection mask has freed me up in Christ for the first time.  Free to be my true self, free to question, free to kick and scream, free to be exactly who He made me to be."

I would say the hardest part of sharing was the end.  No one knew how to react. This kind of sharing isn't something you get a standing ovation for.  Several people came up to give us a hug, some left crying.  One man came up with tears streaming down his face as he admitted losing a child when he was 16....he never dealt with it.  So heartbreaking.  We prayed with a couple people before we left and we found ourselves standing alone with the group leaders.

Although my human self wanted to hear how awesome it was, I knew that this kind of story isn't going to get the usual accolades.  When reality hits, it is like a ton of bricks.  It needs to sink in. The reality is, I may never hear how it affected those who heard it.

But as I sit here and reflect, I am humbled, overwhelmed, and honored to be able to share how God graciously gave us moments with Jerin to change our lives forever. Looking people in the eye, meeting them where they are at, and trusting that I am not at work but God is was just......breathtaking.  I really and truly feel we all desire to be real and accepted.  My prayer is to live that and show it to others behind and in front of the computer screen.