The Boomstick

1.9.14 (Part I)

       I walked into the glass building just off the North Dallas Tollway with a strange sense of peace. I had been thinking all day about where to start when telling our story, and I thought I had found an acceptable starting place.
       As I got off the elevator, I ran into a girl with long, curly black hair that looked at me and said, "Are you Amy?" (I guess they were expecting me!)
       "Yes ma'am," I replied to the girl who was probably 5 years younger than me. Those old West-Texas manners coming out.
        "Follow me." She said as she started to walk down the hallway. "How are you today?" She asked.
        "Nervous," I admitted.
        "Don't be. Miss Pat is really nice. But I was super nervous the day I came to do my job interview, too."

        She lead me through a room filled with cubicles where maybe 10-15 people were on the phone talking to people. It kind of reminded me of those scenes of the stock market in movies, where all the cubicles are in one location and various team members have headsets on and are up pacing as they have their important business conversations.
         She ushered me into a 10x10 room with white walls and some fabulous decor. I was asked to wait there until R could come meet with me (this is the same woman that had called me the day before to tell me I was a winner... wait finalist... well something). The girl who had met me off the elevator disappeared for just a minute and came back with some paperwork.
         "This is for you to fill out," she said as she pushed a packet of 5 papers across the table to me.
         Basically, it was an agreement to allow the Treasure You organization to use any of the pictures we provided and any of the video they took of me in any way they felt like. That was totally fine with me since I had made sure that Alex was okay with me sharing the pictures I had brought with me (all of them were the ones that Mallie took, but we didn't chose to release ALL of the pictures. There are still a good number that have been only for the eyes of our closes friends and family and have never made it on the blog or anywhere public. And that's the way it will stay).
         The last piece of paper caused me some heartburn. It was a paper stating that anything that happened during the interview process was not to be discussed outside of the walls of the building.

         Really? But... I write this blog. This silly blog that helps me cope and share our story and put God's glory up on a stage out in the world of the internet. I sat there and read it a few times trying to make it say something different. I had just written on Monday my experience with hearing about the Treasure You contest, and now on Thursday I was being told that I couldn't share the amazement that had overtaken me in that God was being faithful in His speaking to me.
        To be honest, I nearly walked out. I nearly, nearly pushed the unsigned paper back on the desk and walked out. I spent a good 5 minutes texting Alex trying to explain to him my dilemma, but in the midst of all that I felt this wave of thought (I'm going to call it that because it wasn't a logical conclusion to my anguish and it basically overtook my thoughts completely out of nowhere.): Do you trust Me? 
         Amy, Do you trust Me? The thought came through again.
         Crap. I was being called out. The thought continued Why do you think I would have brought you this far and I wouldn't take care of the details to come?
         Crap. My human short-sightedness had nearly caused me to leave a place where God had CLEARLY orchestrated me ending up.
         I signed the paper and waited.

         I had a good 15 minutes before R came in the room, plenty of time to take in all the details of the walls in the room. To my left was a clock hung about shoulder height and around it on the wall was painted to make the face look like it belonged to a Grandfather clock. I thought that was pretty clever.
         To the right was a wall made up entirely of pictures. Pictures of families. Pictures of kids. Christmas cards pictures. Thank you notes. All kinds of things. I took my time staring at each of the pictures and wondering what kind of connections they had to this office. Were they friends of team members? Were they people who had benefited from the generosity of the charities?
 
        Then R came in the room. She was probably in her mid-forties, with blonde hair and really thick eyelashes. She came in and welcomed me with a big hug.
        "We don't shake hands around here, we hug." She said as she took her seat across the white table from me. "How are you feeling? Nervous?"
         "For sure," I replied. "Would you be the person that I would ask about this contract?" I asked before I could really stop myself.
         "Yes," She said, somewhat inquisitively.
         "Well... I'd just like some clarification. You see, I write a blog... And I just wanted to know if I could write about this experience on my blog..." I stumbled along, hoping that I wasn't about to get the answer that was so clearly written out on the piece of paper.
          "Oh that's totally fine!" she smiled. "That contract means you can't write about the other people who are here. And they can't write about you. So you're not allowed to share their story and they're not allowed to share yours. Make sense?"
           I breathed a huge sigh of relief. And immediately felt silly for getting so worked up over the contract in the first place.
          "Any other questions?" She asked as I shook my head "no". "Well, we're really glad you're here! I loved reading your entry... You know we all have our favorites that we're cheering for around here..."
           I didn't really know what she meant by that- that she was cheering for me or that maybe she had another person she had connected more with. I didn't ask for clarification.
           "You didn't bring any family with you?" she asked.
           "No, my family doesn't live in Dallas." I replied.
           "Well, we're excited you're here and we're going to get started. The camera guys will be in here shortly to talk to you." And with that, she exited.

          Another 5 minutes went by as I started staring at the chandelier that was in the room. Somebody had really done a great job making this room non-threatening for those of us getting thrown into situations we really had no business in.
         The next thing I knew, two guys came in the room: one was armed with a 5 ft long boomstick and the other held his DSLR camera equipped with a special lens for filming. Their names were Danny and Wesley.
         Danny was probably mid-forties as and wore glasses. Wesley was younger, maybe 30s, and was sitting looking at the back of the camera to make sure he had the right angle. They sat down after they had introduced themselves, and then we were off to the races.
        "Why are you here?" the first point-blank question they asked.
        I had spent the last 24 hours in constant prayer trying to figure out what all God was going to use me to say during this time. I didn't know what to expect, but I had thought about what questions I would ask if the situation were reversed. I had hoped to get a warm-up question, but it looked like we were diving in right off the bat.
        "Well... I'm here because I lost my daughter to stillbirth on September 18th..." I started. My heart was racing about 900 beats a minute.
        "But maybe I should back up a little bit." I started over, taking a deep breath and trying to slow down my tongue. "I suppose it all started a year ago. Nearly to the day. It was this time last year, we found out we were pregnant..."
         I told the story of how Alex and I had been trying for a few months to start our family, and how we kept missing that crucial window and were somewhat disappointed with the realization that we wouldn't get pregnant before he deployed for his second tour. I told the story of how Alex never saw a live picture of his daughter, and that every sonogram and heartbeat sound was recorded on my phone and sent to him via email and iMessage (thank you, GOD, for putting us in a time period where we have such awesome technology!). I told the story of Kaitlyn sitting breech, and our scheduled c-section because she was stubborn as hell.
        I told the story of going to the hospital with the carseat in the back of the Tahoe. I told the story of seeing that first image of the sonogram with her heart perfectly still, frozen on the screen. At this point, I had to stop.
       You see, even though I have written the story several time from my memories of that day, I still haven't actually told the story verbally. I haven't let those images run out of my mouth in the same way that I have let them come out of my fingers on the keyboard. I really have only told the story once: to Kate, because I hadn't sent her a link to my blog for her to read it herself. And even if I had, she wouldn't have read it because it was really crucial to me in the early appointments to verbally talk about my daughter. To talk about those images. To talk about the operating room. To talk about the smells and the sounds.
       I closed my eyes for a minute and let the tears that had come run down my face. I had a package of kleenexes in my bag, but at that moment I wanted to be raw. I wanted to let my absolute brokeness be caught on camera. I needed the world to see that my God had taken my broken heart, life, family, and made it beautiful. I felt the droplets run down my chin and drop into my lap. I made no apologies for the tears. No quick, "I'm sorry" as I reached down for my bag. I just sat with my eyes closed.
       When I opened my eyes to continue the story I saw that Danny the boomstick guy was fighting back the tears. His chin quivered a little bit, and the bottom rim of his eyes were red with the onslaught of emotion.
       I cocked my head a little to the side and nodded at him, letting him know he was okay to let the tears come. He shook his head and whispered, "Keep going."
       And so I did. I kept talking for another 10 minutes about all of the grace that God has allowed me. How he has opened my eyes to the beauty in His orchestration of Alex getting home in time to meet her and to go through this together. How He had softened the blows in tiny details long before Kaitlyn passed- such as leaving her name out of all the books in the nursery. Or us choosing to have all of the things in the nursery unisex for our "future kids", not knowing that the one I was carrying would never be among the ranks here on Earth.
 
       When I was done, I paused. Danny put down the boomstick and cleared his throat.
       "I need just a minute," he said. It was at this time, since my tears had dried on my cheeks for the last few minutes, that I reached down and dug out a tissue pack. I gave him one first, since he was still fighting back the tears, and then took one for myself to try to clean up the tear streaks a little bit.
       "The reason I'm crying," he said in a soft whisper, staring down at the kleenex, "Is that my wife and I experienced the same thing."
        His words sat in the air for a few minutes before I was able to say, "I'm so sorry for your loss."
         He nodded his head. "There is nothing worse." He cleared his throat then, and squared his shoulders and said, "But today isn't about me, its about you."
         "Its about all of us," I corrected him.

My life for your plans...

1.9.14

      The next day, I was a nervous wreck. I had received a packet from Pat's office saying that I wasn't a winner, but only a finalist. Maybe I had heard her wrong. It didn't really matter, I was still going to get to meet Pat Smith at her office and get to tell her about Kaitlyn.

      The packet had said that we should be prepared to be on-camera for the interview. Ugh I was a wreck. I did my makeup a little heavier and ironed the new clothes I had bought the previous day, doing an extra look-over to be sure I didn't miss one of those obnoxious stickers with the L on it indicating not only your size but also that the item had recently been purchased. 

      I loaded my stuff up in the car and took an extra bag full of things to do a "final prep", like my straightener and my makeup bag. I put all that in this really cute bag I had made out of one of Alex's uniform tops when he was deployed in 2010. That way, I had a little piece of Alex with me when I went to the office. The packet had also said that we were welcome to bring family members along with us, but seeing as my family doesn't live in Dallas I opted to go it alone. (Jenny is probably cringing as she reads this because she would say "I would have gone with you!" which, of course she would have! But at the same time, I felt like it was Alex and me or only me since we were Kaitlyn's parents.) 

     Anyways, in the morning I did a case and was glad to be busy so that I could keep my mind off of what the afternoon had in store. I am not a good public speaker, and I was worried that I was going to say something silly. Or worse, that somebody would say something trying to make it better (more on that tangent later) and end up saying something awful and I would end up going off on a tangent about how what they'd just said was inappropriate. 

      The time came for me to head down to the office, in the super-secret location in North Dallas. I had spent the evening before in prayer, and had been continually praying since I left work. 

      There's a song that we use to sing at Hope Fellowship that was an original song by our worship pastor, Aubrey McGowan, back when Hope was only about 1,500 people. Now it is about 6,000. Its a really simple melody, and the lyrics are just three lines on repeat:

                                                     My life for your plans. 
                                                    My heart in your hands.
                                                       I surrender to You.

      The album this is on is called "Hope is Here", and its a really raw album with most of the songs being in minor keys. But the music was one of the reasons I ended up joining Hope Fellowship, and I'm so glad I did.

      Anyways, the entire drive down to Pat's office, I just had that song on repeat. I sang it, prayed it, and let it be true. The only thing I wanted out of this whole application thing was that God would be glorified through our story. We have been so blessed to see His hand moving in big, powerful ways through our lives, and I wanted to be sure I was true to His blessings. 

Faithful

1.8.14

      I love it when God is blatantly, in-your-face faithful. 

      It was Wednesday afternoon when I got the call. I was suppose to be in a case, but at the last minute the case was canceled. So instead, I was sitting at home working on paperwork and thankful for the break because the day before had been a 14 hour workday (those happen sometimes in healthcare...).

      Anyways, I was sitting on my living room couch when my cell phone rang. It was 1:30 in the afternoon, and I wasn't really expecting a call from anyone. The area code was a local Dallas code, so I figured it was a political call or a wrong number. I sat there for a good minute debating whether I was in the mood to answer it or just let it go to voicemail. In the end, I picked it up.

      "Is this Amy?" asked the lady on the other end of the phone.

      "Yes it is," I said, waiting for the political drool or fundraising line to start.

      "This is R from Pat Smith's office." My heart skipped a beat. "I was calling to let you know that you are one of the three winners for the Treasure You contest and we'd like to feature you with our lunch with Robin Roberts next weekend."

        I literally started crying. Right there on the phone, just broke down and started crying at the amazingness of God. 

        "Are you there?" R asked again since I had gone mute trying not to give away my breakdown.

        "Yeah I'm here," I said through the tears running down my face.

        "Oh my goodness don't cry!" she said, clearly bothered that she had brought that out in me. "We just want to honor you! Can you come meet Pat tomorrow afternoon for an interview?" 

          I cringed a little inside. I wanted to be a part of this program, but I also knew that I hadn't discussed the possibility of me winning this with anyone at work. I had even given my manager's name and contact information on the application but I hadn't had the nerve to actually talk to him about it. So taking off a few hours in the afternoon made me cower a little inside because I wasn't sure what kind of reaction I would get at work (it was all positive, by the way).

         "Sure!" I replied, not giving away my mortified stance on the work subject. 

          We set up the details and when I hung up, I started dancing around the house. I was blown away. There have been very few times when I have been vocal in claiming God's promises and what He has spoken to me. The ironic thing, though, was that I had just written my blog entry from the few weeks before where I had mentioned the Treasure You contest and had said that I felt God telling me that was important. That was cool that God had let them call me a day before I was anticipating the call, and that my case had just "happened" to cancel that afternoon so I was free to answer the phone and not hear it on voicemail.

        I immediatly called Alex at work, who picked up the phone thinking that something was wrong since we rarely call each other during the day. Then I called my Mom, then Dad, then Jenny at work, then Mallie. The team was in the know.

       Then it was time to go shopping. I haven't (active tense) made it all the way back down to my pre-pregnancy weight, so that left me with a selection of either too-tight-for-public clothes or maternity clothes. Neither of those would work. So I headed off to the outlet mall that evening. 

      There's a song by Bethel Music (sung by Jenn Johnson) called "Forever and A Day" that I jammed to on the way to go shopping. The bridge to the second half of the song goes like this:

I was ashamed, you called me beautiful

I was ashamed, you called me beautiful

And now I'm Yours, You call me beautiful

And now I'm Yours, You call me beautiful

Nope, it wasn't for her

1.6.2014

       On Monday afternoon, I had another appointment with Kate. I was had been battling with a couple of things over the last few weeks, one of which was that I was starting to feel a dream-like state when it came to remembering Kaitlyn. There are mornings that I wake up and I feel like the whole thing was a dream: the pregnancy, the death, the delivery, all of the people who came out to see us and give their condolences. The other thing I have been struggling with is that I can't seem to find the right balance for my life. I am very much a type-A personality, and when I go back to work that side of me (the controlling side) tends to kick right back in and I expect nothing less than my absolute best at all times. But then when I'm at home and able to write, or spend time with my worship music blaring in the living room, I am completely okay with being broken and slowly productive. What I mean by that is that sometimes you can be doing absolutely nothing but sitting in your stretchy pants listening to music and be incredibly productive in your grief. You can learn to slow down to a snails pace and still be able to process a week's worth of emotions in about an hour. 

       After doing a case at work, I went over to Kate's office and plopped myself on the couch. Some days, I sit with my legs crossed politely as I talk and cry over all the work God has done in me for the last week. Other times, I kick my shoes off and sit indian style. That day I kicked my shoes off.

       First things first: I asked the question that I already knew the answer to since we Kate was so much further along in her grief and an expert at having the right words to say.

       "Did you turn in your application to Treasure You?" I asked.

        "Crap! I totally forgot!" she said immediately. "When is it due?"

        "Today at 5."

        "How intense is the application?" she asked, a little flustered that she hadn't remembered.

        "Its not bad, but you have to have two letters of recommendation and it says on the website that they won't process incomplete applications." 

         What happened in the next 90 seconds is one of those moments that I really hope to replicate in my own life as I continue to grow in Christ. I watched Kate run through a lot of emotions in her head and then come to the conclusion. 

         "Well, that wasn't meant for me, then. Because if it was, God would have kept it right in front of me since the last time we talked," she illustrated God keeping it in her thoughts by holding her hand up, palm about 3 inches away from her nose. What Kate just went through in those few seconds was such an example to me of living in God's will. Recognizing that if God wants you to do something, He will make sure you do it. 

          And sometimes He lets us have doubts. I had spent the last two weeks coming dangerously close to letting myself get talked out of submitting that application. But everytime I did, there was this echo in my heart of just being blindly obedient to what He had told me, "This is important." 

         "Okay then. It was meant for me, I guess. Because it was going to be one of us. And if its not you, its me." I said quietly. I knew then that I would get a call later that week to come be honored at the Treasure You event. 

          We continued our session and talked about the dreamlike state. Kate said she could absolutely relate and that there were still days that she looked back on Piper's short life an felt the exact same way as I was feeling now. We talked about the balancing act of my split personality. 

         "How do you balance those two people? How do I integrate those two pieces of who I am into one person? How do I take what I've learned in my personal life and my growth in Christ and be that person 100% of the time instead of just when I'm at home?" I rapid-fired the questions, hoping that she would have the answers.

           "Whew sister! Be careful asking those kinds of loaded questions! God will hear you, and you better buckle your seatbelt because He's about to show you some things." was her reply. A total non-answer for my questions, but instead a pointer finger shot straight up to heaven to show who had the answers to all my seeking. 

           As we drew our session to a close. 

           "God's going to do some crazy things this week." I said. "I just feel it." 

           "You've been asking the right questions... Just buckle up and get ready for the ride." She said, standing to give me a bear hug like she always does when we finish up for the day. 

A long story short...

1.5.14
 
     On Sunday, I topped off my Treasure You application and got it submitted. I sent it over email, so there was no confirmation fax sheet that let me know they got it. I just hit the "send" button and was over it.
     "Okay God I'm obedient."

      That morning, I had come across a verse that P.J. (aka Pastor John) talked about at some point. The verse is John 21:21 and it goes like this:

Peter asks Jesus, "What about him, Lord?" Jesus replied, "If I want him to remain

alive until I return, what is that to you? As for you, follow me." 

      This is another one of those things that I just love about the Bible. It's got a little sass in it. And that sass came right out of Jesus' mouth. (After all, He did make those of us who are sassy in His image, too!) 

       The background behind these two verses is that Jesus had foretold that Peter would be crucified at the end of his life. Peter's response was (of course) panic and he looked around for a buddy he could drag into the conversation with him. Kind of a "Hey if we're telling about our deaths, tell this one how he's going to go, too! And let it be as painful as my way!" 

       Jesus doesn't respond with a "Oh yeah, he's getting the ax later as well" comment. Instead he completely refocuses Peter's attention back on himself. Basically, Jesus tells him to butt out. 

       Butt out, and refocus your energy on following the path I have for you. 

       

       I have had a lot of issues with jealousy. A lot of issues with jealousy. God has at least protected me from myself when it comes to the little ones in my family, but outside of that my jealousy knows no bounds. I'm jealous of people with infants. I'm jealous of people with newborns. I'm jealous of pregnant women. I'm jealous of people just finding out that they're pregnant. I'm jealous when I hear a baby cry or scream. 

       I'm flapping jealous. Like all the time. 

       Part of my jealousy comes from the "Well what about them?!" aspect. Not that I would ever, ever, ever wish the death of a child on anyone, even my worst enemy, but I still can't help thinking "What the heck? Why does that person smoking a cigarette over their stroller get to have a healthy child and mine's not here?" 

      Which is why I think this verse was so timely for me. I was reminded to butt out and also to refocus on Him. Sometimes I lose sight of God's plan for our lives. Sometimes, I get distracted by everyone else's happy endings. But then I think of this verse and I think of the way Jesus responded. "Who cares what I have planned for that person? As for you, follow me." Just as blunt as the wrong end of a knife. 

     Which is what I need. I need something that will push through that grief and refocus me. Keep my thoughts and movements focused on what God has in store for us. And I know this, it is really, really good. 

My Entry into Treasure You

1.1.14

     The next morning, Alex slept later than I had seen him sleep in years. He had gotten up at his regular time, spent a little time in the living room, and then given in to the sleepiness and climbed back in bed. Meanwhile, I had slept through his normal wakeup time but woken up right about the time he snuck back under the covers.
      I decided the time was right to finish up my entry into the Treasure You contest, but I'm going to tell you right now I was having a hard time not talking myself out of it.
      "This is dumb. There's no point in me entering this thing. Kate is going to win it and tell her story about Piper. She's a counselor, for heaven's sake, and she's so much better spoken than I am. She's two years out of her loss and has a much better perspective. She already has her hope baby in her arms. I'm just in the middle of my pain. I would never use the word "overcomer" when it came to Kaitlyn."
       All these thoughts were running through my head the whole time. I felt silly. Completely silly. And I didn't feel like I was writing well at all. But at the same time, I knew that I had felt something that morning when I heard Pat announce the contest on the news. I felt like that message had been for me, but then the conversation with Kate had confused me.
       When I was in high school, we talked a lot about hearing God's voice and being directed by the Holy Spirit. We had learned that when you're in doubt or if you don't know for sure what God has asked you to do, go with the last clear thing you heard. So, I continued on with my application, having no clue what was going to come out of it.
       The application was legit. I had to put down my social security number, the name and phone number of my manager, and have two letters of reference. I had asked Mallie to do one letter, and the other would come from Jenny. Both of them asked me what I wanted them to write about, but (thinking once again that it didn't really matter because somebody else was winning this thing) I told them, "I don't know just write about how you know me and that I'm not a psycho killer or something. I think its just to say that I am who I say I am."

   

      Well... Okay. That was pretty strongly written. Maybe something would come out of this after all. Then came Jenny's letter. 

         These people are crazy for loving me. But let's go with it. Finally, I had to write a few essays and include a picture (again, what is the point? Surely somebody else further out from their grief was going to get this thing).

        And here's the picture I decided to send in with it:

      This was one of the ones from our Christmas session with Lindsey. Isn't my husband just a hunk? I'm so lucky to get to call him mine. 

       I finished all of the application, but I ended up not submitting it until the following Sunday. It was due by the latest on Monday at 5, but I figured what the heck if we're doing this out of obedience then let's make sure that we do it right and not miss the deadline. 

     

Heaven is for real

1.1.14

      The beginning of a new year. To be honest, I was relieved. I felt like a "fresh" start was exactly what I needed. And I remembered that this time last year was around the time that I found out I was pregnant in the first place so I was glad to get that little milestone out of the way.
      Alex and I decided to go see a movie, and it doesn't even matter what movie we saw (just for the record, it was Saving Mr. Banks) because before we could get to the movie the previews came on.
      The scene opened on a little boy with blonde hair standing in front of his mom sitting crosslegged on the floor.
      "Mommy, did you know I have a sister?" He asks her.
       "You didn't know that Cassie is your sister?" she replies as the camera shows a little girl sitting a few feet away from them.
        "No, I have two sisters. You had a baby die in your tummy, didn't you?" He asks. (My head literally yanks up and I start listening at this point in the preview.)
        "Who told you I had a baby die in my tummy?" she asked back.
        "She did, I met her in heaven."


        I about had a come-apart right there in the middle of the theater. The preview was for a book-turned-movie called Heaven Is For Real and it is the story of a little boy about 4 years old who has a near-death experience.
        When Kaitlyn died, I was surrounded by people who love us and brought us books. Several books. Probably ten books from ten different people. Some of them have titles like, "You'll get through this". I knew I had received a couple of copies from a few friends (who knows who) at home, so immediately after we got done at the movie I went home and started reading. I am a big reader anyways, but right after Kaitlyn I just didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear about my baby girl being in heaven (even though I knew that's where she went) because I was still so hurt from the fact that she wasn't here.
        But when I saw this preview, I grabbed the copy I could find (which had been given to me by my cousins, Ash and Sam) and found the chapter where he talks about his sister. Not to ruin the book, but the Mom had a miscarriage early on and they didn't even know the sex of the baby. They had kept the miscarriage private, and there wasn't a person who would have interacted with their son that would have told him about the loss.
        I sat and cried as I read that one chapter, and I read it again just to enjoy the imagery and joy that the writer conveys. Then I backed up and started from the beginning. When I stopped for a little while, I decided to text Ash.
        Me: So... Was it you or Sam who picked out Heaven is for real to give us and have you read it?
        Ash: "It was actually a recommendation. Sam reached out to a coworker who experienced a loss at about 20 weeks. She said that book was a huge comfort to her and highly recommended you read it. We immediately started calling book stores and found ONE COPY. We left right then to go get it. I haven't read it, but I'm in line! Was it helpful to you?"
     
         AGAIN, let's all pause here and digest what my cousin just told me. She said that neither of the people who had bought the book for us had read it. She said that they called around and only found one copy in their area (and they live in Houston- big area). She said that another Hope mom had recommended it.

       Isn't. God. Awesome? This is what I'm talking about with the ripple effect. Let's take the baby that was lost by a mom in Houston that I don't even know her name. Because that Mom read a book when she lost her baby (do we even know the gender? who knows?) perhaps because a family member had given it to her to read, she had the knowledge that this was a comforting book for moms that had lost children. Because of that child's life, she was able to tell my cousins what to give us to help. My favorite thing about that story? There is no way in heck that the sole purpose of that child was to help me. The Munoz spinoff story from that baby was just one of thousands, probably millions, that the little life touched.
 
      There is always, always purpose.