Sweet Memories

I almost don't want to post because I love opening this site and seeing that picture of Lillian blowing kisses. It's the screen saver on my phone and I just never get tired of looking into her big brown eyes.


This weekend was a precious time of memories and honoring our sweet girl. On Friday her Auntie M and I spent our lunch break visiting Lillian and leaving her flowers. Auntie M leaves a bottle of bubbles by Lillian's rock so she can send a few sailing into heaven when she visits. And of course we tossed a couple of rocks into the fountain.


On Saturday Jeff, Ian and I headed up to OHSU for the annual memorial service for children who have died in the prior year. 130 new angels in heaven. 130 names read aloud. 130 families with broken hearts. Although I wish none of us were there, it was such a blessing to see the six other families that we met along our cancer journey. Each brought pictures and special treasures to share so that we could remember their dear children. The year was brought full circle when I saw the doctor who so generously left the MRI after just 15 minutes to tell us about Lillian's tumor. (She could have waited the full 3 hours.) And Lillian's oncologist who held my hand and helped me give Lillian a final bath after she died. And our dear Chaplain who prayed with us throughout it all. I am forever grateful for the amazing care we received from these dear friends.



On Sunday, my incredible friends planted a flowering cherry tree at church in honor of Lillian. It's at home in a beautiful grassy alcove just across a bridge. God helped us as usual by softening the ground the day before but keeping the weather clear for the planting. Perfect. I kept Ian warm while my friends dug the whole, heaved the tree into place and firmly surrounded it with earth. It was a true team effort with the kids shovelling in some dirt and watering the tree. Watching my friends work so hard to give this tree the perfect place to grow made me feel so loved. I can't wait to see this special tree bloom in all it's glory and watch it's blossoms float in the air like snow.



Throughout this sadness, my little Ian brings joy. Our capacity to feel such opposed emotions simultaneously is awe inspiring. Joy and sorrow are not fire and water. One does not extinguish the other. They mingle together in a strange little dance periodically pushing one another into the spotlight. The joy of seeing Ian happily swinging creates a twinge of sorrow at the memory of his big sister doing the same thing just a short time ago. The sorrow of hearing Lillian's favorite songs bring the joy of sharing them with her little brother. Isn't it just like our awesome Creator to give us such dimension? Why would I expect anything different from the One who mixes water and sunshine into a beautiful rainbow?


I am so thankful to all of you for remembering Lillian in all the different ways. From sharing a story about her to planting a tree in her honor, your memories bring her so near to me. Thank you!