Hope

Its been a busy December!  A few weeks ago I got a call from the JayCees of Minnesota letting me know I was nominated and selected for their Top Ten Outstanding Young Minnesotan award! I was aware that a lady from Austin nominated me back in August, but had forgotten all about it with all the events of the last two months. I was surprised and honored to have been chosen for this incredible award.

But I wouldn't be telling the whole story if I didn't say that I had some reservations about the award too. Of course it's always nice to be recognized for the work you do, but when the work is based on such a personal tragedy, it's sometimes hard to celebrate the achievements. In my mind, it really was Drew who was outstanding. He maintained such a great attitude and trust while he endured, suffered, and eventually died, and my heart has a hard time receiving an award for myself. I'd much rather just have him back and have none of this ever happened to us...

And knowing that much of the recognition is due to Warrior Wagons, I certainly don't want to appear to be taking all the credit. Not only within our family, but in the community. I am just one of many who are outstanding and deserve an award for the work being done in South East Minnesota for the brave Warriors going through treatment for pediatric cancer.

But I know it's good for Warrior Wagons. Making more people aware of what we all are doing at Mayo Clinic is a good thing. I hope it raises awareness about pediatric cancer in general, and its impacts on families just like ours. And it always makes me happy when more people hear our story, and know that there was a little boy named Drew, and just how was amazing he was. And just as importantly, how amazing GOD was, and still is!, when we trust Him through the trials of this life.

So I got myself an outstanding dress to wear😉, and we went up to the ceremony in Minneapolis! It was a wonderful night, one that was emotional, meaningful, and that I'll remember forever.

On our way up north, we stopped in Austin briefly. It was a quick visit--just overnight, less than 24 hours. But long enough to see a few familiar places and faces (wish we could have seen SO many more faces!)

I was so happy to know my way around, have memories from almost every street corner fill my head and heart, and get a Caribou coffee!! I stopped in to a friend's annual craft show, and almost cried when someone called my name. People know my name! That's one of the biggest things I'm still getting used to--not knowing anyone at the grocery store, or Walmart. Going to the dentist's office or library and not running into anyone I recognize.  I  know not all enjoy that, but I do. And it was such a wonderful feeling to be known again!

As nice as the short visit was, it reminded me that we don't have a home there anymore. Molly expressed some nervousness about seeing our old house when we passed through, and I felt the same way. We did drive by, and it did hurt as we had expected, to realize that other people were living in our old home. Seeing our old friends, being in some of our favorite places felt great--but not the same.  It will never be the same. A familiar realization...

Bur new house is definitely starting to feel like home. After the 6+ hour drive last week, I felt that familiarity/homecoming feeling as we drove into our subdivision, and down our street. But we are still filling this house with memories, which I think is what really makes a home. Still hanging our mementos and keepsakes on the walls, getting the place a little more "lived in". We're definitely making progress, but it's still new after only two months. Feeling the shift in Austin, yet not quite through the transition period in Chicagoland yet, has left me feeling a bit "home-less".

And Christmas season being in full swing doesn't help. All these songs and commercials talking about "home for Christmas" rubs salt into this fresh wound. This year most of my family is coming to us. And even though it's great that we don't have to travel, it means I won't be going "home" to my parents house in Iowa this year for the first time in my whole life. Home for Christmas--what does that mean? This year, I'm not so sure...

And the sentiment that home is where your loved ones are--which I have even repeated--hurts right now too. "Christmas is about being with those you love--that's all that matters" everyone and everything seems to say. But what if all your loved ones aren't with you, and some are never coming back? What if you are trying NOT the think of the many, many Christmases you will have to endure without a piece of your heart? I know too many other families who are in this same place.

And another family joined the unfortunate group last week, as one of our brave Warriors joined Drew in Heaven. It stabs deep each time we learn that of one of the families we serve have lost their child. The sympathy and empathy we have for the family, that I have for that poor Mother who had to say goodbye so close to Christmas, is great. It also obviously causes us to recall our own experience, and all the emotions that go with it.

And I know we aren't the only ones with mixed feelings at Christmas. There are many others that won't be with the ones they love this season. Christmas morning will come without the children that are so desperately wanted in many households. All the romantic sentiment during the holidays will be a painful reminder that the a soulmate is yet-to-be-met for some. Too many may be with their loved one physically, but the mind of that special person is drifting away quickly due to disease. Families which are separated by seas, borders--or who maybe are just across town, but separated by a deep sea of bad blood, will have more than a little sad mixed in with the joy this Christmas. And even for the families that travel just didn't work out this year, and there's a chair empty at the dinner table, there will be some regret at the absence.

What about all of them?

All of this about home and about hurt was filling my head last week as I stood over my sink, tears falling into my dish water. I was beginning to be overwhelmed, asking God why it had to be so hard all the time. Why even the happy times, "the most wonderful time of the year", had to be so painful for too many. Why there has to be so much disappointment in this world. Wishing I could enjoy this season without so much of the sorrow. And then I heard a familiar whisper in my heart telling me,  those things aren't what this season is about...

But in fact, its about God's answer--His solution--to all of these hurts! It's about the Hope that was born 2,000 years ago. Hope for those yearning for Home. Hope for the broken hearted. Hope, in the form of a precious baby boy that caused the Heavens and Earth to sing for joy--that is why we celebrate.

Because God himself came into this world as a person--a real person--born of a woman like all of us, to suffer and die, so we can have Hope that there will be more than this disappointing life. God sees, and the Bible tells us he counts, every one of our tears. And in response, He sent his Son into this world to save. To redeem. So that someday we could be HOME with Him at Christmas. Along with all our loved ones again. That's the good news for all of us!

I smiled. It is good news, the best news! My heart seemed to smile too. It makes me want to "go tell it on the mountains"!! Jesus Christ is born.  There is hope for all of us!



But Christmas is still difficult after the loss of a child, even when you get a divine reminder of the big picture. Everyday is a battle, to embrace the joy and remember the Hope. My heart still aches to see my little boy dressed up on stage at a Christmas program, as I scroll through my Facebook feed and see everyone else's. I want to hear both my kids' excitement as they search for the Elf each morning. As I helped Molly with her Christmas tree school project, I wonder how Drew would have decorated his tree...

Seeing Molly with Santa this year was a gift. She hasn't ever been a fan, and has refused to see Santa in the past. So instead of a kid-crying-with-Santa photo, we've steered clear and just sent a list with our Elf. But this year she said she'd go. She wrote a letter with her list and hand delivered it as she sat beside him.  I was so proud and tried very hard to be in the moment, soaking up the magic of a little girl meeting Santa and still believing.

Yet when I looked through the photos later, I couldn't help but think about who could have been there with her, but wasn't. Drew was never afraid of Santa, and I have several pictures of him with the big guy:

It's hard not to think of what Drew would have wanted for Christmas, as I buy gifts for Molly. Would he still be in to Paw Patrol? Still have his tractor obsession?  Once again I got him something John Deere. Last year I decided that might be my tradition, away I could still buy something for my boy. This year I got a green gator ornament, that I know will be a special addition to our tree.

And putting up the tree this year was easier, but the meaningful ornaments still brought tears.  I have a feeling they always will, and I'm okay with that.

But along with the difficult feelings, I am given Hope in the everyday this season too. I have a pretty grand tree in my entry at this new house, if I do say so myself. When we walked through the house I knew I wanted a tall tree right in the foyer. It's beautiful. I absolutely love it.

I pause and stare when I walk by it and as I go up the stairs. I sit in the front room and just look at it with the lights out at night. I can't believe it's my tree! And it came to me one night as I sat in it's glow admiring it--this awe I have for my new tree is just a glimpse of the wonder and awe that awaits us all in Heaven. Its the feeling we all will be engulfed in for Eternity. Wow, how hopeful that thought is. And it also gives me a taste of what my Drew is feeling, not just at Christmas time, but every day, in God's Heavenly Kingdom. Which is such a wonderful comfort. Certainly a reason to feel better during this difficult season.

So as you gather with family--or maybe not; if you are at home--or in a place that doesn't feel like home; if your heart is full--or if it's broken this year; remember it's the Hope given to us when Jesus was born that we are really celebrating. It's okay to be sad, but it's also possible to have joy and peace in your heart too. We can sing Joy to the World, as tears stream down our faces together. Because that is what this season is all about. Onto US a child was born. Come, let us adore him, Christ the Lord.

Merry Christmas, from our family to yours!

A New Normal

We've been in our new home in Illinois for just over a month now. As we Becker's tend to do, we haven't taken anything very slow. Molly now has been in school for three weeks? In the middle of the 4th. And Josh has been successfully making the commute every day in towards the city at his new job. We've gotten all our things unpacked, and even have some rooms all set up--even got things hanging on the walls now! 

Molly got the new bed she was promised--a Queen size--that she's super pumped about. (she changed her mind from bunk beds to a "big" bed) We still have some furniture being delivered after Thanksgiving on the main level, but my hope is we'll be done with the "setting up house" part soon after.

All this activity has kept us busy! And in between, we've tried to get out and see our new home before winter sets in. One weekend we took the train into the city and saw all the touristy Chicago sights! Molly made it pretty far on foot--we were impressed.

But as the adrenaline starts to wear off, as we are getting settled in and the excitement of the last 6 weeks dies down, reality is settling in too. We are beginning to see our new normal take shape, and with it comes the things that unfortunately are a part of "normal", at least in our lives. The now-familiar grief that will always be with us, is setting up shop too. In some familiar ways, but also through the new.

Holidays or anniversaries are one of those "familiar" ways.  I've come to expect the hard feelings to be more intense during important days. But the first holiday here in Illinois--Halloween-- kind of snuck up on me. We had a lot of fun, but as usual in this post-Drew life, sadness and missing came along too and I had my first bout of grief here.

Halloween was tough for me last year as I relived the intense feelings that hit us the year before about this time. It was when we received the terminal prognosis following a bad scan--something I wish no parent ever had to hear concerning their child. It was a hard holiday for me as those dark feelings came back to haunt me, for an appropriate way to put it.

This year though, I had all that from the past on my mind again, but also felt a more intense regret over Molly's present too. We had several fun events to check out in our new home here--swimming with pumpkins, a Halloween tree and light show to see, and big box stores that had festive activities.

She had a blast, and really enjoyed all the fun new activities. But, oh...my heart just hated she was doing it all alone. That she didn't have her brother to look to with excited eyes as the tree light up, or to splash around with in the pool with the pumpkins. I watched her face as she cleaned out her pumpkin and couldn't help but remember when she had a sibling, another kid, to share the uncertainty at the feeling of the goopy insides like she did just two years earlier...(don't mind the editing--Molly was in an underwear-only kick)

It just killed me to see her alone, with no other kid to share in the excitement and joy. It know it's so much better to experience these moments with another kid, than to be with only adults (however eager we try to be). This year, we not only missed Drew's presence but were painfully aware of his absence too.

Molly didn't say a word though, bless her heart. Never out loud did she admit it would be more fun with Drew here. I wonder if she felt it. Okay, I assume she had to have felt it. What a strong, brave girl I have. She will do great things. I know, because she already is doing such big things at the tender age of six, despite all that she's been through. The things she's seen and withstood, and yet, she keeps moving forward. Choosing joy, instead of self pity. It makes me cry but also fills me with so much pride of my baby girl.

A couple days before Halloween, after she had already done all these things alone already, I was bracing myself to watch her trick or treat by herself. I prayed I could be as strong as her and enjoy the evening. And then, our new friends asked us to trick or treat with them around the neighborhood. What a welcome offer! God gives us only what we can handle, and a break just when we need it! We had an awesome Halloween, and Molly didn't have to trick or treat alone after all.

The grief is settling in, filtering back into, the everyday too. With new furniture arriving, our old ones are being placed out on the curb. It was fun to go shopping for a new couch, a dining room table, ect., but to see the old ones that are being replaced out there on the curb, has been harder than I thought.

These pieces were the settings for so many of our memories with Drew, and we're just discarding them with the trash? Now we're in a whole new home, with almost all new furniture. Is it just out with the old, in with the new? How have we just moved on in not even two years? How will I remember him when so much has changed? The questions trouble my heart, even if my mind knows better.

I got some answers to some of these questions though, when I was outside doing some yard work last week. It was forecasted to snow the next day here, so there was a feeling of urgency to get the leaves picked up while it was still fairly warm. It reminded me of two years ago...

It was an unusually warm November that year, my last with Drew. Again, we had just been told he would probably not make it. Molly was in school, and Drew and I were outside doing yard clean up and putting up some Christmas lights while it was so warm. I remember that afternoon, the smell of the fall air and the sound of Drew playing so well while I worked. He had the toys and my attention all to himself and was enjoying "helping" me with the lights. It struck me just how he was a happy little two year old boy without a care in the world while so much was going on. 

I could hardly watch, dreading what would "probably" happen to him next, the injustice and tragdy of it all. But I did, with help from Above, and I felt an unexplainable peace. It all was going so well that I just kept putting on lights! I strung lights around almost every bush in our front yard while he played.

Later when Josh was home from work we all went on a walk--each kid in a stroller--like was our routine almost every nice afternoon at that time. We had plugged in the lights to a timer to make sure it all was wired right, and set it so they'd be on when we got back. As we got closer we all were anticipating seeing it (some showed their excitement more than others 😉)...and then we turned the corner! It looked a little Grizwold-y, with mismatched types of lights and un-coordinating colors, but it dazzled the kids. And they got out and stood there in awe. 

As I both smiled and cried while I raked my front lawn of our new home in Illinois last week thinking about that afternoon/evening two years ago back in Austin--it donned on me, or the Sprit showed me. I could almost hear, "See? you don't have to have a house, or a certain couch to remember Drew by. How silly to believe that!" The memories I have really will be with me and bring him to life in my heart whenever I want, no matter where life takes me. What a relief and comfort!

And it really is true. I had another example a few days later. It was time for a car wash. As Molly and I pulled in and the foam started collecting on our windshield--Molly said out loud what we both were thinking about. "Remember how much Drew hated car washes?" Yes, I was thinking about that too Molly. I was remembering how he'd say he wanted to, agree with Molly's chants to go through the car wash, then he'd legit freak out inside. He'd really be terrified, yet seemed to forget (or enjoyed the thrill) every time when he'd ask to do it again. It became a thing that all of us teased him about.

Josh used to send us pictures at the hospital with the instruction to "show Drew" what he was up to at home--going through the car wash:

...and Drew's face reacted on the other end. Much like this:

Yes, going through the car wash will always make us remember Drew, as it did last Sunday.


So as our new normal falls into place, it includes the things that are uniquely normal to our family. So much has changed, but much remains the same. On holidays and in the everyday, we miss our Drew. And despite all the changes, I am rest assured. We aren't forgetting Drew. The grief, which is such a constant, IS us remember him. Through and in our actions or events, his memory will be in our hearts forever. They aren't tied to a place or a piece of furniture, but is kept safe and resurfaces just when we need them.  And God is faithful through it all.

The snow did fall the next day here in Chicagoland last week, and the temperatures still haven't recovered. It looks like another season is beginning, just like in the Becker family...

Every Day is an Adventure

I was really dreading the goodbye, the actual leaving, of our house in Austin. It was a home that held so many memories, good and bad, awful and truly magical. Moving week came though, and as things began to change and be packed up, each day it felt less and less like the home I loved so much. We first took things off the walls. Drew's name did come down, and yes, I took a moment to cry...

We kept going though, and plastic bin-ed and boxed up other important things and tucked them away so the movers wouldn't accidentally take them in the truck. We purged items we done with, making several trips to the Salvation Army, to Rachel's Hope (a crisis pregnancy center in Austin), and to the dump. The transition was already underway, the moving forward had begun.

Every goodbye was so hard. But some of the hardest were the ones that actually knew Drew. Families that we were all friends with, Moms and their children that I had been pregnant at the same times with. Drew's friends, and our friends too... 

It was hard to think that all the new people we'll meet now will only know about Drew. They'll see his pictures on the wall and hear me talk about him sometimes, but won't have ever seen his smile in person. They won't have heard his voice or have felt his hug. Leaving the only people that know us Beckers as a family of four, not three, hurt my heart.

And then as the movers packed the rooms in boxes and stacked them up, it really didn't look like our house anymore. 

It was familiar, but had lost that "home" feel.

We watched the boxes leave our house the next morning. The huge moving truck got filled with almost all of our worldly possessions--and it amazed me how little space it all actually took up. Only from about that door forward:

How important we think these things are--our clothes, or furniture, our pots and pans, and décor--but really, its just stuff. In the end, if that truck crashed on the way to Chicago and none of that stuff was recovered, would it matter? Is anything truly not replaceable? I unfortunately have learned what is and what isn't replaceable. And as the semi left our street, I was filled with that perspective, and an unexpected peace. Having those you love is all that really matters in this life.

Then, it really was just a house that we slept in on our last night in Austin after all of our stuff drove off. Just walls and flooring and our air mattresses and suitcases...

It actually reminded me of Drew's body in the end. Maybe this is a little too morbid to share, too uncomfortable for some, but as death grew closer and closer, his little body became less and less Drew. And on that last day, it was clear what was left really was just shell, a "tent" as the Bible calls it (2 Corinthians 5:1). His sparkle had left, what made Drew DREW had gone to Heaven, as we explained to Molly, and it was obvious. Which made it so much easier than I had thought it would be to walk away from him that day.

It's awful that that's what I have to compare moving to, that this is what came to my mind and heart, but it's our life. What losing a child has done to us. It gives you a different perspective in life, and sometimes makes things easier to understand. And that's really how it was that morning we left 1405 10th Street in Austin. It was easier than I expected to drive away that last time, and I didn't even look back.

Seven-ish hours later, we made it to our new home in the suburbs of Chicago. And we all did pretty well on the drive--even Snickers the cat! Closing was successful, and we slept on our air mattresses again that first night in our new home.

The movers came the next morning and unloaded all of our things from the truck--nothing missing or damaged. And we've been settling in ever since. Unpacking boxes and making what seems like daily trips to Lowes and Walmart/Target as we discover more things we "need".

One of the first things we did was pick out a new washer and dryer, which were actually in stock!  So they were delivered the next day. I've never been so excited to do laundry!

Molly started school last week. The elementary school is really great, and Molly loves it already--so does Mom! We had a lot of togetherness in the last 3 weeks...

When we met her teacher the first morning, she shared with us that it was suppose to be "pajama day". But the class realized it would mean on Molly's first day she would be the only one not in pajamas. They didn't want her to feel left out, so they decided to move it to the next day. So her second day was "pajama day", and she was able to wear her pj's too. A small but thoughtful gesture that really touched my heart. It showed me that our prayers and trust in God's Word that He was going ahead of us, preparing the way, were answered. How cool it is to see His promises kept in such an obvious way, and even better that Molly recognized it too. How comforting it is to know that God is caring for my baby girl just as He's caring for my baby boy now.

Josh is doing well also. His commute has been about what he expected, and work is starting off well. He isn't feeling too overwhelmed, (like I would be!) so that is wonderful. He's been busy installing curtain rods in his free time, and other not-so-fun-but-needed things around the house. I never knew he was so handy 😉

And I'm doing okay too. Besides regular housework, unpacking boxes, and beginning to arrange/organize/decorate the new house, I've begun to put some of the other pieces into place that I enjoyed from our old home. I have found a CBS (Community Bible Study) class, a branch of the group I attended for 6 years in Austin. I actually went a morning last week for the first time! It was wonderful to know just what to expect and enjoy the company of other ladies. They weren't my ladies (yet?), but everyone was so kind. God knew I needed something I was familiar with.

We also joined the community's Rec Center/Aquatic Park last weekend. I can do workout classes during the day, Molly can do kid programs and classes, and Josh and I can go together in the evenings or on Saturdays when the kid room is open for Molly. It's not the Y from home, but it's very nice and I'm thankful to have a place to work out and meet people. Molly and I checked out the indoor aquatic park on her half day this week and we are looking forward to fun afternoons on snowy days this winter!

Each day really has been an adventure! I'm seeing that when you're in unfamiliar territory, you notice so much more than when you're kind of on auto pilot at home. And my senses have been on over drive! Noises in the house, smells of a new town (not the usual Hormel plant smell!) and the beautiful homes, buildings and parks to see! It's been fun to explore and discover new things and places to go.

Not everything has gone smoothly though. In fact, we have encountered several issues during this move/transition. That morning we left Austin, we had to jump Josh's car because it wouldn't start in the driveway as flurries were in the air. We also received late paperwork that needed to be signed and notarized for closing, causing us to have to stop along the way for a notary.

The morning the movers unpacked us, Molly and I went to get donuts for everyone. I accidentally left my wallet at home though, as I discovered when I went to pay--what an awful feeling! But, someone behind us in line paid for our order, just telling us to pay it forward. (What a nice welcome to Illinois!)

Our kitchen sink backed up last week, our first week. Ugh. We think probably from little use while the house was vacant during the last owner's remodel. But, we called a plumber, and by noon the next day, we were flowin' again...

And just a few days ago, I locked myself out of the house when Molly and I left for the bus stop. Thankfully the only friends we've made in the neighborhood so far were home and able to help me get back in. I didn't even have my phone with me, I'd left it inside! I was so grateful for such nice people willing to come to my rescue.

Gee, as I write these thing that have gone "wrong" since we've been here, it seems like kind of a lot. And in the moment, they each seemed like a really big deal. But, you know what? Each were worked out. And by the next day they were just a story to tell, not impacting our life.

Really, I haven't had a bad day yet! It's that peace from above, and our perspective I guess. What you choose to focus on. Whether you let little things add up and weigh you down. Or whether you let it go, and look for things to be thankful for. Lessons and habits I unfortunately have learned in some of the hardest of situations.

But I guess sitting here today and thinking about it, I am glad I learned them. I may not have chosen how I have gained this attitude, this mindset of gratitude and of choosing to focus on the good and not the bad, but they are useful just the same. And bring joy into my life everyday, regardless of circumstances. Something I can always keep from the precious time I had with Drew if I decide to. Some of the good that did come out of tragedy.

So I'll continue to try and keep it going. Because I have also learned that everyday is new day and we always have to be intentional in choosing how it'll go. You have to make the decision to be grateful and enjoy life every day, with every bump in the road. And even then, it's only when we have God with us that we have the power to make the right choice.

How fun life can be, truly an adventure, when we are thankful and really trust that God will take care of us. Which doesn't mean that its always a smooth ride, or that you don't encounter issues, but that it will always work out. Always.

The Ending of a Season

Two falls ago, during the radiation portion of Drew's treatment, we were home a lot more than we'd been the whole year. There was one afternoon I took my kids and their friend to the park. I remember watching them run to the playground, the littlest one, my Drew, was lagging behind. I took out my phone to capture the moment, and went on to take several more that trip to the park.

It was only 10 days later that we got the awful news--that the cancer was already back and Drew "probably" wouldn't make it. As I found myself looking back through my photos more frequently after that terrible day, I remember pausing at this one and not being able to hold back the tears.

I looked at that beautiful fall tree and realized that, even while it was beaming with color and vibrancy, it was dying. And I looked to my equally beautiful little son right underneath it who, too, was beaming with joy despite also, dying. It was crazy to me how much beauty and joy there can be in death.

But it's true, and both are very real and very present. The changing of seasons, the closing of chapters, they all have that mix of joy and sorrow, beauty and ugliness. I've learned that one doesn't have to negate the other, but instead actually brings the other one out. That fall I remember seeing the beautiful colors of the leaves all around as the last bit of life left them. I watched how gracefully they fell to the ground, and couldn't help but see the foreshadowing of what was coming our lives...

This fall, as the leaves start to turn and beam with color and vibrancy before they begin to shrivel and fade as the colder air sets in, I am once again seeing the beauty in the ending of a season, and seeing it reflect my life. This year, it is embodying this time of change as we prepare to move from Austin. I am feeling so loved and so much gratitude right along with the sadness and almost dread of ending this decade of my life in lovely Austin, Minnesota.


But before I go on, let me update you all and what's happened in the last couple weeks. Shortly after we found out we were going, the three of us visited Chicago together to house shop. We looked in a few different south west suburbs, and one house really stood out to us.

It has been recently updated, so it has a new house feel. We like the neighborhood/subdivision, and it's within 30 minutes of work for Josh in the Village of Bolingbrook (close to Naperville). It really seems perfect, and we are so thankful to have found a home so quickly that was empty so we could move right in. We just finished up the legal side after the inspection, and have a closing date of October 11th. Which is only 9 days away now--eeeks!

I'm excited for the house and some of the upgrades we'll enjoy--like my beautiful kitchen! It certainly helps to have seen where we are going. To have something to look forward to and be thinking about how we'll set up and decorate.

Meanwhile, we got a call from our realtor in Austin on the way home from Chicago who informed us that we received a full price offer on our house here! What a blessing. So on the same day we went into contract on our new home in the Chicago area AND with our current home here in Austin. God's timing makes you smile sometimes. And kind of further enforces that we are doing the right thing. Finalizing details with that contract as well, and soon it'll be set.

Warrior Wagon affairs seem to be coming together too. We had someone generously donate a storage unit to us, and we've been organizing and filling it with all things Warrior Wagons from our house. We've worked ahead and put together over a dozen totes to go in Warrior Wagons so it's easy for volunteers to pick up and deliver to Mayo. So let me know if you are local and would like to be on the list to help! I'm really excited for the community to be more involved in the process, to give people another way to support us besides resources--with their time. I think it'll work, I really do, and will continue to flourish. I can't wait to see what God is going to do through Warrior Wagons, here in Austin, and maybe somewhere new!

So now we're in an all too familiar place of waiting for an ending, anticipating a transition. A position that I'm unfortunately familiar--trying to enjoy a round of "lasts" without being too sad at the same time. Doing our best to save our tears for later and trying to enjoy TODAY. Which is hard. Especially when it brings up so many emotions from not that long ago when we were in similar place.

I can't believe we really only have one more full week here before the moving truck will be out front. It seems so fast, but I think it is a blessing too. Drawing out goodbyes only make them harder, and I guess I've been spared long goodbyes before. It's becoming our Becker style.

But that doesn't make them any easier, just because they are shorter. Having lunches and meeting for coffees with friends that I've been through SO much life with over the last 10 years is so tough. I'm tempted to wonder what I'll do without all the good, true friends I have right across town. Or down the street.

I have so far been trying not to cry when I'm out, because I'm not sure I could stop. But on my way home, the tears fall because my heart is so fragile now. Yes, my heart is getting used to carrying a load of grief, but it isn't interested in adding any more weight. Yet, I know it will be added as there are so many good people that will be missed dearly.

I really don't have a whole lot of packing to do to distract me either. Hormel is wonderful and gives you a full service move when you relocate. But before the movers come, I've been gathering special things. Things I just don't want to even chance not making it to Chicago on the truck. Our wedding album, my bin of keepsake baby clothes, fragile pieces, things like that. And of course, a bin of Drew things that keeps growing. I think I'll need more than one.

So in addition to the goodbyes, my heart gets torn open with each thing that I find to add to the bin, removed from it's place in this home we shared with Drew. His favorite stuffies, his feeding pump back pack and binkie. I've taken his clothes down in the closest and added them to a bin. A task I've been putting off. I wasn't ready. Now, I guess I have to be...

But one thing that's been filling me with anxiety is taking his name off the wall. It's a small thing, but so meaningful. It's like the window chalk drawing I left on the sliding glass door for weeks after he died, not wanting to wipe it off and have it gone forever. I just can't bear the thought of taking his name down, and have this time gone forever.

I remember picking out the letters at Hobby Lobby. Deciding on the size, and font. Josh spray painted them white, and we even put them up before he was born. I was a little nervous to do that--thought it might jinx it or something. (the irony)

I remember us pointing to the name, and Drew saying, "Drew!" and Molly naming each letter as she was learning the alphabet.

And then after he died...I couldn't take it down. I reworked the room within the first two weeks, but had to keep his name on the wall

I've been so happy with his room, my quiet place, in the last year and half. And probably not just because of the décor, but because its Drew's room. A designation no other room in this world will ever be honored to have. I guess that's what it's really about, not the name. It's letting go. Letting go of the room I laid my precious baby boy down from on his first night at home, and the room he slept in on one of his last nights on Earth. And I just happened to take a picture of it because it was also the first (and only) night he slept without the railing on the side of his bed.

I'm not sure I'll put his name back up in the new house. Will it be worse to put his name on the wall of a room he was never in, or to not have a room with his name on the wall at all? I feel like the first one is worse, it rubs salt into the wound that he physically won't ever be in the new house. I've had friends suggest ways to do a collage wall with all of our names-his too, that I think could work. But I think for me, I am realizing/accepting that what I have in this house can't be replicated, that it will never be the same. No more even saying, "It's in Drew's room", because no room will have been Drew's room in that house.

We've been so busy up until this point, that I haven't had time for it all to hit me yet. And maybe that's a good thing. But it's the small stuff like taking Drew's name down from the wall that I could cry in an instant thinking about. And I think when it comes down to it, all the things that make me upset are because it just won't ever be the same...its that simple, it just won't be the same. I'm reminded how hard simple things can be once again.

But yet, there still is beauty in this ending of a season. The love that is pouring out to us, is enough to make me cry too. It's heartwarming to hear how much we've meant to some, comforting to know that we will be missed and thought of often. What a gift people give me when they share what I've meant in their lives. Like the vibrant colors of the leaves as the life leaves them for the year, the love from our friends and community is breathtaking as this chapter of our life in Austin comes to an end.

And when the sadness fills me after another "last", another goodbye, I remind myself what has saved me thus far--being thankful. How wonderfully blessed I have been in Austin. I'm so thankful for this house and all the memories that will last a lifetime which it gave me. So thankful for such loyal, loving, caring friends that I even have to miss. What a supporting and understanding community I could never begin to repay that sets a high bar for my new one. We've received so much love from people we barely know in this town, and I have the honor to pass that love on to new people. For as sad as I am to leave Austin, I'm as equally grateful for the time I've had to call it my home.

And that's how I've decided I'll handle this move. For every tear that falls for some place, something, or someone that I'll miss, I'm going to say a "thank you" in my heart. Thank you God, that I have so many things that have meant so much, which will be missed. And like before, when I meet my sadness with thankfulness, joy always follows. Hope returns.

If I have a God who has taken such good care of me, given me so much here when I needed it most, surely He'll continue to provide just what I need in Chicago. I have no reason to doubt, I have nothing to fear. My head is telling my heart that whether I think it'll be an awful move, or an awesome change--I'll be right. So we might as well decide right now it'll be great. I'm reassuring myself that when we get there, we'll just take it one day at a time, and we will be okay.



So we smile and cry at the same time while we do all the lasts this week. We'll say our goodbyes and soak in all of Austin that we can in these last 9 days. And then we'll look east towards the next great adventure the Lord is taking us on. Sad for leaving what was, but excited for what's to come...all at the same time.