Sweet Sixteen

We went to Dayton a few weeks ago to celebrate Christmas with Greg's family and since we were all together, took a balloon to leave at Ryan's grave. The moment was harder than any of us expected given the spontaneity of the occasion.

This year, I found myself needing to honor Ryan's birthday earlier. By November, I was already consciously saying yes to most every opportunity to serve others. I needed to do something and rather than spin my wheels on a project I wasn't passionate about or wallow, I simply said yes. From shopping for local homeless, selecting kiddos on angel trees, inviting people over for a hot meal when I really wanted to be a hermit, to keeping a baby on what was supposed to be a day off, I said yes. Finding ways to honor Ryan's birth has transformed from the early years of toys for tots to recent years of feeding a single mom and providing diapers to purchasing long underwear to help warm homeless men. This is what heals my broken heart. Otherwise, how it is that I am to accept that it has been sixteen years since I held him in my arms; the perfect, tiny boy who taught me so much about grace, forgiveness, unconditional love and redemption? Despite the pain, God is still good but my son is immensely missed because he was so loved. I suppose sixteen is much sweeter in heaven; I just long for a glimpse of him from here.

Happy birthday Ryan Patrick.