Promises Kept

" The Drew we knew was fading each day.

“My bum bum hurt, Mom. Bum bum huuurt!”

Hearing his weak voice say this over and over broke my heart.

“I know, Bobo. It’s going to be okay.”

We could assume that he had sores in his digestive tract. These sores are like a canker sore, a digestive tract full of canker sores. So far, none in his mouth. We could be thankful for that.

I actually got in bed with him, which wasn’t our usual. His warm, feverish body lay against mine, still smelling faintly of creamed corn. Side by side we sat. Not sleeping yet not fully awake, Drew just lay there draped in tubes carrying aid to his little body, trying to gain some comfort from his mom.

At this point, Drew was on three anti-nausea meds, two pain meds, two antibiotics, and the drug to stimulate his bone marrow to bounce back. He had received a blood transfusion, and his mouth was washed out four times a day with a special rinse to stay ahead of the oral sores. We were certainly doing all we could to help him, to keep him comfortable. While it broke our hearts, Josh and I agreed that we'd seen him worse. Which spoke more to where we had been, than where we were. "

I read through this section of the book last month and sat here and cried and cried. I cried for all my Drew went through. For what was asked of him, at only two years old. I cried because I knew how the story ends--this brutal treatment plan didn't work. He died, despite surviving the powerful chemo drugs, scary infections, and painful side effects. I cried because I miss my baby. Because a part of me is gone, and it still hurts even almost 9 years later...

Over the summer the publisher edited the manuscript for Grasping Joy. They put it through their system and then reviewed the suggested changes. It was passed back to me next and I spent August pouring over every sentence, accepting or rejecting the corrections. Re-working and making adjustments to the text.

The hardest part was the grief it opened up in my heart. While the book is about joy, and I wrote it intending the story to be as much uplifting and encouraging as sad, it had been a while since I'd thought about that year, the last year of Drew's life. Reading through and reliving what I hope to be some of the worst days, the worst moments, of my life was difficult and painful. How could I not cry?

But, just like when I was writing it, there was a bright side--I got to spend time with my Drewy again. I could close my eyes and see him smiling back at me.

 

Watch his lips and hear his little voice saying the words I remember. Feel his sparkle, his energy, once again. He was back to life, back in my life, as I read about his antics. Was reminded of his jokes. Saw him be so strong and brave as just a little boy.

With Drew fresh in my mind, I noticed him gone again, and the familiar ache in my heart, returned. The extra seat at the table, the missing little brother on parent night at school, the fourth face that's not in the Shutterfly puzzle I recently put together of us on vacation.

I remember what it felt like to be the mom of both a daughter and a son. To have two chicks in my nest that I got to care for and enjoy. I miss being that mom. I miss that life I used to have.

After I got through the hard chapters, the ones filled with Drew's suffering, I remembered the comfort I drew after his life ended. This grief, this pain I feel now, I bear in his place. The sickness, the sores, the aches he endured that make me cry to think about, have stopped for him. I remember wishing I could take the suffering for him while he was alive. And now that he's not, I have gotten my wish. While he enjoys Paradise, it's my turn now. And remembering that purpose makes the weight of grief a little easier to carry.


It's finally starting to cool off here in Fresno. Beginning to feel like fall--or as close to fall as we get in the Central Valley. While I had a break from the work of writing and publishing a book, our family had a wonderful summer. We really packed it, as usual, but I don't regret any of the trips or long weekends.

 

Sometimes I can feel guilty about the life we have now, like we shouldn't be enjoying ourselves so much without our Drew. I've wrote about that and can find peace with the negative voices trying to hold me back from joy most of the time.

As Drew's life was coming to an end at the conclusion of the book, it was good for me to read all the promises we made to him and to ourselves. One stood out the most right now--that we wouldn't let cancer take anything more from us. That we'd give Molly the childhood Drew wasn't going to get to have. Our lives would be lived to the fullest each day, just as we'd learned on our journey with Drew. We promised that we'd take every opportunity to LIVE, in honor of our Drew who wasn't going to get the chance.

And I guess that that's just what we're doing.


We're getting so close to this story becoming a real book. The projected launch is now less than six months away! It's been another whole journey to get to this point. Many of you have come along with me, cheering me on. I began writing at the start of the school year in 2021, so it's been over four years now that I've been working on this book.

Gosh, I miss my faithful emotional support cat...

In those four years, I can look back and see so many times that God guided me through. From giving me the strength, words, and diligence to get it written, to connecting me with my editor in Colorado, to pairing me with my publisher. I'm in awe, truly, at what God can do if you're willing to follow. I'm sure it'll be just as exciting to see what happens from here!


My tears last month weren't all sad. Reading through some wonderful memories filled me with the joy I describe and explain in the book. I'm so glad I have captured on the pages some of the best moments of my life, too:

" The next day, Molly got the Gator out after we picked her up from school. She sat down in the driver’s seat, and Drew climbed up beside her. She first started swerving around the front yard, but eventually began making laps around the house. I hid in the bushes and then jumped out into their path as they rounded the corner. They both squealed with laughter, and Molly jerked the wheel to avoid me.

I laughed, too.

When they came around the next time, I could hear them giggling in anticipation as I stood in my hiding spot waiting for them. As I jumped in their path this time, they squealed even louder. Surprise, joy, and innocence. If those things had an expression all wrapped into one, it was on both of their faces. We played this game for a few more rounds until the laughter made its way to my broken heart. I had a smile on my face, a genuine smile, when they finally lost interest in our little game.

As I laid them down for naptime, I felt a familiar peace rivaling the sadness and shock. During my break in the middle of the day, I thought about Drew and his joy that afternoon. Again, his age and understanding saved him from feeling what Josh and I were. He didn’t know that he was going to die but just knew it was fun to ride in the Gator with his sister. "

 

The good and the bad, the joy and the sadness, balance and complete each other. As I discovered they always do. It's possible to have joy even in sadness, peace even when your heart is broken. But you already know all this. I'm looking forward to sharing it with everyone else💖

Why?

Violence and tragedy seem to be bombarding us. Whether it's the school shootings that have taken place since the beginning of fall, or the random act of violence in North Carolina a few weeks ago. Even before that, the flooding in Texas that swept away so many lives, young and old. And obviously the assassinations of the Minnesota state legislators, and now, Charlie Kirk. 

All of this can leave us asking why? Why, God, are you allowing such loss, such sorrow, in the lives of some truly innocent people? Why didn't you protect them, save them from such an awful fate??

I, like many of you, have asked these questions about the national events, but also in my life personally. Why, Lord, why didn't you save my little boy? Why didn't you keep our family together? Didn't you hear all of our prayers??

 

 

Many of us are watching, reading, hearing, and seeing how all of these national tragedies are just causing further division and hostility in our country. Communities in-fighting, families dividing, and friendships broken because of which side each fall on. Because they can't agree on the cause and what the solution is. 

If the event wasn't sad enough, the aftermath can be just as heartbreaking. 

It's okay to be upset. This isn't how God intended the world to be. If you, like me, are disgusted by the world right now, I think that's okay. Good even. We should be disgusted by what sin and evil have done to humanity, to people's hearts. We can hate the sin and wickedness in this world and mourn for all that has been lost, because the Bible tells us God does too (Genesis 6:6, John 11:35). 

I think it's so hard for us to understand why He allows such appalling events because we think suffering and death should be avoided at all costs. It's a natural instinct to not intentionally bring either of these things upon ourselves or want them to be inflicted on those we love. But in God's kingdom, suffering and death are some of His most powerful tools. Ones He doesn't take off the table. Much to our regret and deep, deep disappointment...

I know I'm not the only one who knows this all too well. Seeing a loved one endure hardship or losing them altogether is one of the hardest things we can face. But yet, once we can see straight again through the grief, you really can see how God can use even death for good. That sometimes if we didn't have the suffering or the loss, we'd never accomplish half of what God can do through the tragedy.

This is what I have told myself in the past and keep reminding myself as one terrible news story comes after the other. We can mourn but not like the world does, without hope (1 Thess 4:13). No, we have a living hope in the face of death (1 Peter 1:3, 1 Tim 4:10). We will see our fellow Christians again. Death does not win, because of Christ and His finished work on the cross. We are more than conquerors, and we should act that way (Romans 8:37). 

On the hill of calvary Jesus defeated the enemy, answered all of our prayers, and saved our loved ones. He died for the sinners, and for the saints. For those on the left and on the right. For the little ones, and the old ones. For you, and for me (John 3:16, Romans 5:6, 2 Cor 5:15, 1 Peter 3:18). Suffering and death are ugly and horrifying, but they ultimately lost their power 2,000 years ago. The enemy will not win no matter how many lives he takes on his way to destruction.

Our living hope sustains us today because we know that there is a day coming. The day will come when Jesus returns and brings with Him Heaven to this this broken Earth. All will be redeemed, all will be restored. He will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and there will be no more pain or death. God will dwell with us, and from the Tree of Life will flow living water. His justice will rein down on the evil, and punishment will come to all who have not repented of their sins (Rev 21). It will be a glorious day!

But we aren't there yet. 

We all wait and groan, experience the birth pains as we wait for His return to restore all things (Romans 8:22). To redeem us and bring His justice. 

In the meantime, what can we do? How do we keep moving forward when we are so weighed down by the sadness in this world? 

We do what He tells us to do: Be thankful (Col 4:2). Trust in Him (Psalms 125:1, Proverbs 3:5). Have peace because He has overcome the world (John 16:33). Love Him with all our hearts, minds, and souls, and keep His commandments (Mark 12:30, John 14:15). Do not compromise on His truth (2 Cor 4:2-4), but love others as He instructs us (Mark 12:31, John 13:35-36). Which is without judgement but not rejoicing over sin (1 Cor 13, Matt 7:1). Encouraging one another with psalms and hymns. Reminding and strengthening each other with His promises and wisdom (Col 3:16)

And if we do this, we will find joy in this life even before creation is redeemed. I know, because I've experienced it. I've learned what it means to be sorrowful, yet always rejoicing (2nd Cor 6:10). Our work does matter in this life as we further His Kingdom. We ought to keep doing it! Keep raising our little ones to know Him, keep using the abilities and skills He gave us at our jobs. Be a good neighbor and friend. Shine our light into this world's darkness (Matt 5:16).

I don't think there ever will be an answer to why in this life that completely satisfies our broken hearts. Some things--like children being swept away while they sleep, innocent blood being spilled in a subway, a father taken from his young family, and little boys dying from cancer before their 3rd birthday-- will just never sit right in our hearts. But that's why it's called faith. We have to hold on to the belief that it will make sense someday. That with an eternal perspective, we will we see how this is the way it all had to be. God doesn't ask us to like it, but to trust Him anyway. Be confident in His power and His victory and wait for the day when He returns in His glory.

I know I'm not the only one praying right now, bring on the day Lord!

**Sorry for all the verse notes, I'm sure it feels like a lot. It was a lot to look up! But I included the Biblical references because I do think it's important to show the receipts. Not just say things that sound good to ourselves, but not know where the words come from. Support our arguments with references, cite our sources**

11 Years Old

My April Fools baby would be 11 years old today. It's the 9th time we've celebrated Drew's birthday without him. The more time that goes by, the more tragic it seems that he only lived for less than 3 years. Each year that passes reminds me just how short his life really was. Watching Molly move through so many phases as she grows up, puts Drew's life in perspective. He never made it out of diapers. Didn't ever sleep in a big boy bed, let alone start school or get a phone. 

 

He did have his golden birthday, though. 

And celebrated his second, and last, birthday with a fiesta in a hospital conference room with a group of almost all adults--his family and the friends he'd made in the medical staff. 

 

That first birthday just a few months after he died really hit me hard. In my grief, I realized that what you celebrate on a child's birthday isn't just that they've completed another year of life. No, that's something most of us take for granted. But instead, it's the accomplished milestones and growth of the child along with the hopes and dreams for their future. You think as much about what they'll do in the years ahead as what happened in the last year. 

If your child dies, it feels like there's nothing to celebrate on their birthday. 

They didn't complete another year of life. Didn't reach any new milestones or show any growth. You can't dream about their future, look ahead to big goals. All that has died too. I learned that a mother mourns what could have been as much as what was--who was--on their child's birthday.

Over the years we've celebrated Drew's birthday without him, I've learned that there is something to celebrate on April 1st. We celebrate the gift Drew was to us for two years and nine months. On the day he was born, we held our newborn son and beheld a soul that would inspire so many with his joy and strength. And WE were chosen to be his parents, his family. Praise God.

God gifted Drew to us, and while it was only for a short time, I will celebrate that gift on April 1st.

In the time Drew was with us, we watched him grow into a little boy. Watched him gain skills that few toddlers have to master--like holding still for CT scans, tolerating echo cardiograms, and entertaining yourself in a hospital bed. 

 

 

 

He developed a real sensitivity, a compassion and understanding of people. Whether it was other sick children on the hospital floor, adapting to various adult companions who stayed with him at the hospital, or what the medical specialists needed from him for a procedure. He was a people person and was able to connect with truly everyone.

 

I've also learned in the years since he's been gone that he really isn't gone at all. He's still very much with us, just in a different way. It takes time to learn to see them, once someone you're close to dies. You have to work at opening your broken heart to their influence and presence in your life. Once you recognize your loved one's new place, you realize they didn't leave altogether. You just have to change where you look for them. It's not in their room or in their chair at the dinner table, but in the memories that come to mind at random times. The things you see in the world that couldn't be a coincidence. 

 

 

Special songs that you hear at just the right time. The warm feelings you have in your heart as you reach your own milestones in life. The joy of talking about them.

We still talk about Drew often in our house. It's one thing visitors have said after they've been with us for a few days in a row--"I didn't realize how much he's still talked about by name." 

Whether it's calling out the extra serving at dinner as Drew's (seems like every dinner or recipe I make has 4 portions), blaming him for random occurrences like things falling or weird noises, referencing one of his catch-phrases that were surprisingly well-timed for a two-year-old, or wondering out loud what life would be like if he was still with us--we DO still talk about Drew a lot, and bring him with us on each adventure we take as a family

   

His life is very much a part of the work I do now while Molly's in school. Warrior Wagons, his living memorial, keeps me busy with our eight branches. It serves as not only a way to keep his legacy alive and serve others, but also a reminder of the good that came from his short life. Encouragement that what was born on April 1st, 2014, wasn't lost on January 19th, 2017. It really did matter that Drew Becker was alive, if only for two years and nine months. And it still matters today.

 

And as I move into a new stage of producing the book telling his story, I can feel Drew with me there too. As I wrote it, his memory was so strong. And now I can feel his excitement in my heart as we get closer to sharing about his life with others. I want to write more about the journey I've taken in writing down our journey--Drew's and I's--but I'll save that for another time.

Today, on his birthday, I'll just remember my Drew. Thank God that 11 years ago, I was given a son. I found out for myself just how special the bond is between a mother and her baby boy. I am honored to forever be Drew's mom, and I look forward to the day I get to hold him in my arms again 💙