Waylon Luke Kitchens

Merry Christmas to you & your family Waylon.  Give them all extra hugs & kisses.  God Bless!

Dear Mom,

I know this is a rough time for you. So I will be as gentle as I can be.
.
First of all, thank you for so many tears, particularly those
shared with another that you love. They are a gift to me, a precious
tribute to your investment in me. As you do your mourning, do it at your
pace only.
.
Don't let anybody suggest that you do your grief work on
their timetable. Do whatever it takes to face directly the reality of
what has happened, even though you may need to pause frequently & yearn
for my return. Do this with courage & my blessings.
.
Know that sometimes inertia is the only movement possible. Give your best
to keeping a
balance between remembering me & renewing your commitments to life.
It's okay with me if you go through minutes, hours & even days not
thinking about me. I know that you'll never forget. Loosening me &
grabbing
hold of a new meaning is a delicate art. I'm not sure if one comes
before the other or not, maybe it's a combination.
.
Be with people who accept you as you are.
.
Mention my name out loud, & if they don't make a hasty retreat, they're
probably excellent candidates for friendship. If, by a remote possibility,
you think that there is anything that you could have done for me & didn't.
I forgive you, as my Lord does.
.
Resentment does not abide here, only love. You know how people sometimes
ask
you how many children you have? Well, I'm still yours & you are still
my Mom.
.
Always acknowledge that with tenderness, unless to do so
would fall on insensitive ears or would be painful to you. I know how
you feel inside. To be included as your child honors me. Read, even
though your tears anoint the page.
.
There is an immense library here & I have a card. In Henri Nowens' "Out
of Solitude" he writes, "The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of
despair & confusion, who can
stay with us in an hour of grief & bereavement, who can tolerate not
healing, & face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend
who cares."
.
Mom, I don't know where you are spiritually now, but rest
assured that our God is not gone. The still small voice you hear in
your heart is His voice. The warmth that sometimes enfolds you is Him.
The tears that tremble just beneath your heartbeat is Him. He is in
you, as I am. I want you to know that I am okay.
.
I have sent you messages to ease your pain, they come in the form of
flowers that bloom out of season, birds singing, voices & visions & sometimes
through your
friends & even strangers who volunteer as angels.
.
Stay open but don't expect the overly dramatic :) You will get what you
need & it may be simply an internal peace. You are not crazy, you have been
comforted.
.
Please seek out people bereaved longer than you. They are tellers of
truth, &
if they have done their work, are an inspiration & a beacon of hope
whose pain lessened dramatically & one more wisdom before I close. There
are still funny happenings in our world. It delights me to no end when
I hear your spontaneous, uncontrolled laughter. That, too, will come
in due time. Today, I light a candle for you. Joined with your candle,
let their light shine above the darkness.
.
Affectionately,
Your Loving Angel child. 
WAYLON xoxo

Twas the month before Christmas and I dreaded the days,
That I knew I was facing, the holiday craze.
The stores were all filled with holiday lights,
In hopes of drawing customers by day and by night.

As others were making their holiday plans,
My heart was breaking, I couldn't understand.
I had lost my child a few years before,
And I knew what my holiday had in store.

When out of nowhere, there arose such a sound,
I sprang to my feet and was looking around,
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash

The sight that I saw took my breath away,
And my tears turned to smiles in the light of the day.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a cluster of butterflies fluttering near.
With beauty and grace they performed a dance,
I knew in a moment this wasn't by chance.

The hope that they gave me was a sign from above,
That my child was still near me and that I was loved.
The message they brought was my holiday gift,
And I cried when I saw them in spite of myself.

As I knelt closer to get a better view,
One allowed me to pet it, as if it knew -
That I needed the touch of its fragile wings,
To help me get through the holiday scene.

In the days that followed I carried the thought,
Of the message the butterflies left in my heart -
That no matter what happens or what days lie ahead,
Our children are with us - they're not really dead.

Yes, the message of the butterflies still rings in my ears,
A message of hope - a message so dear.
And I imagined they sang as they flew out of sight,
'To all bereaved parents - We love you tonight

ALL MY LOVE, MAY YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS AND AN EVEN BETTER NEW YEAR. GOD BLESS YOU ANGEL XOXO