A Ministry I Never Wanted

When I was in college I spent many hours listening to talks and reading books about giving my all for Jesus. As I listened to seasoned missionaries like Helen Roseveare and passionate pastors like John Piper, I was challenged to consider my comfort zone and flee from it for fear of passivity in the urgent call of Christ. I was deeply in love with Jesus because He had pursued me for many years as ran with all my might away from my church upbringing. As my heart softened to Jesus in college, I began to desire to live a life that honored Him. I started considering where God would use me. I knew from scripture that many who followed Christ went to hard places and went through challenging times. My worldview was being shaped by legacies of Christian missionaries like Nate Saint, Jim Elliot, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I needed these challenges to my Americanized view of comfortable Christianity. 

I remember telling God in tears in my dorm room, “I will go anywhere you send me with whomever you choose.” I thought I was offering my whole heart and life. I thought I knew what a mission field looked like and I felt ready for this challenging call of Christ to take up my cross.

I would find myself thinking about the kinds of hard circumstances I might be called to at some point in my life. My limited view imagined that God might call me to live without air conditioning, far from my family, for the sake of The Gospel.

So, it was clear that I desperately needed the challenges of other spiritual giants to get out of my very limited comfort zone. I thought that my worldview had exploded to include the huts in a country without proper toilets. I thought a difficult calling was limited to ministry in the inner city or with a tribe in Africa. I can say with firsthand knowledge that ministry in both of those places is extremely difficult but once again, my scope of calling, ministry, and challenging was extremely narrow.

My view of calling and ministry has expanded with years of walking with Him. I have now seen that God often gives us ministry opportunities that we never asked for and certainly never wanted.

For example, when I approached my late twenties as a single, I thought, “For sure I’ll meet my husband soon. All my friends are married.” When my friends started having their second and third child I thought, “He must be on the horizon.”

But, that wasn’t the case. When my heart was broken at the age of 31 by a man I thought I would marry, God gave me a ministry I never wanted. What I wanted was to be married and raise children but God, in His sovereign goodness, gave me women with broken hearts to walk alongside, study scripture, and do our lives together.  He gave me opportunities to use the pain, rejection, and tears. My worldview about ministry opened again. Living many years of singleness and ministering out of that stage of life was incredibly rewarding but also vulnerable and painful. And, I certainly hadn’t asked for this season of prolonged singleness.

Fast forward a few years and God called me to a new mission field called the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit. I never dreamed of spending nine months in a hospital with my very sick son. I remember holding him and thinking about that same hut in Africa that terrified me as a new Christian. I remember wishing to be in the hut far from the pain I was feeling seeing my son hurt. Once again, God gave me a ministry I never asked for or wanted. I can’t say I did this unwanted ministry well on most days for it was consuming emotionally and physically simply being a mom to a critically sick baby but I have a few select memories of God working through my presence in this unlikely mission field.

I held a mom as her son’s heart rate fell to zero and the code alarm sounded. I prayed for so many heart babies and families whom I would never had known without the calling to the heart unit. I prayed for my own son and sang songs to him about our big God. I told him of heaven and he was my ministry. I wouldn’t trade that previously unwanted mission field for the world, no matter how painful.

Now that we have lost our son, I find myself with a new ministry. Once again this is a ministry I did not want or ask for. I never wanted to be in the “I lost a child” club like the rest of its members. In the year since losing our son, people will reach out to me because they have a sick child, they have lost a child, or a close friend has lost a child. I don’t have magic words but I am honest, vulnerable, and cry real tears with them. I don’t try to suppress their pain with fluffy words or put a quick band-aid on it with a verse out of place. I simply hear their stories, share mine, and together we feebly try to see the hope only found in Jesus.

I’m guessing that God has given most of us ministries we never wanted. I can think of a few just amongst my friends.

Folks like the…

Foster parents who are offering their hearts to the unknown for the sake of the children.

Single women giving their everything for Christ and not settling for less than God’s best.

Teachers who bring in extra supplies and deeply love their students.

Nurses who do their very best even when they are bone tired.

Divorcees who choose to engage in church and love on others even when their lives have been torn apart.

Parents taking care of chronically sick children.

Pastors who come to your side during all the beautiful and horrific things life brings.

Families who are pursuing adoption after long battles with infertility and miscarriages.

While I still am unsure about this ministry with hurting families of child loss, I am honored that God would use my broken heart once again in the lives of others to bring glory for His namesake.

For all of you stepping into ministry moments that you never wanted, I am right there too and I see you. Most importantly God sees you and He’s equipped you, even if you never asked for it!

To God be the Glory

He Should Be Two Years Old

Hudson Taylor Alexander Sylvestre

July 17, 2015-March 20, 2016

He should be two. He should be running. He should be saying, “Mama” and squealing with all his might. He should be having tantrums in Target and stealing his big brother’s toys. He should be wearing hand me downs from big brother. He should have been at the water park with us last weekend. He should be in every family photo. He should be slightly shorter than big brother with slightly darker, crazier hair. He should be growing taller and losing some of his baby rolls. He should be grinning ear to ear and running down the stairs when daddy gets home. He should be in the bathtub splashing his big brother. He should be promoted to the two year old class at church this Sunday. He should be friends with all those cuties. He should be sharing a room with his big brother. He should be hiding while we are seeking. He should be singing, “Wheels on the Bus” and learning his alphabet. He should be saying silly words and pronouncing words in his own way. He should be refusing to eat his dinner and getting gum in his hair. He should be mixing the playdough colors together to make them turn that yucky brown. He should be under my feet as I try to cook. He should be leaving his shoes in the hall so to trip to me and daddy.  He should be the little brother to his big brother. He should be at weddings and on the farm with grandparents. He should be asking for more “Daniel Tiger” and ice cream. He should be buckled in his seat at dinner time. He should be learning about God and singing, “Jesus loves Hudson, This I know.” He should be the youngest cousin to the big ones in the pool.  He should make us a family of four when we go out to eat. He should now get his own seat on the plane. He should be in my arms and not just my heart. He should be two.

Thanks so much to these sweet new friends who did a party in the park for our precious Hudson! That just meant the world to me!!!

Always Thinking for Our Boy

Several months ago I was cleaning out my inbox and I moved an email to Hudson’s folder. I had a quick thought, “I’ll show this to him one day.” I can’t explain why my brain does that. I am very clear that my son is in heaven. I miss him every second of every day. I’m consistently aware of his absence and where he would be sitting at the table, in the grocery cart, in the back seat, at church, etc. But, randomly I have these moments like the one with saving an email for later. I can’t explain why this happens but it does and it catches me off guard. I don’t think I had ever mentioned this happening to Corey and then yesterday it happened to him.

It was a hot, beautiful day to be outside so we took Graham to play in the water and to get ice cream. As we were leaving Corey took Graham to change out of his wet clothes and I went inside the store. We said we would meet at the car in a few minutes. When I came back Corey told me, “I just had a weird thought. I was getting Graham to the car and randomly said to myself that you must have Hudson.”

We both cried for the palpable absence of our sweet boy and then smiled a bit knowing that our hearts can’t help but still parent him and look out for him. We never forget he’s gone but there are moments we are still “mama and daddy.” We save things to show him and think to be sure he’s looked after as we walk to the car.

We’re still looking out for our boy. Always will. Our hearts won’t let us do otherwise even though our minds know he’s in good hands.

Missing you, Huddy Buddy!

One Year in Heaven

One Year in Heaven. I know that there is no time there. No clocks, seconds, minutes, hours. No need for the sun to shine because our God is bright enough in Himself to be the light of all of heaven. There is no waiting. There is no crying. No tears. No sickness. No more dying. No separation. No confusion. There is worship. There is God. Jesus. The Holy Spirit. My grandparents, my anchors. My son, my heart.

One year in heaven might feel like one second or one million years. There is worship showing up in all different forms. Perhaps laying at the thrown of God in awe. Perhaps singing and dancing or building something beautiful or painting a masterpiece. Worship. Worship. Worship. No tears.

One year in heaven without pain. No surgery. No medication. No blood tests or needles. No beeping machines. No flat lines. No sin. No brokenness. No hospitals. There is joy unspeakable. Perfect peace. What we know in part, you know fully there. Glorified like your savior, knowing the whole story of redemption. What a beautiful story, indeed.

One year in heaven. So far, one year ahead of me. I don’t know how many years you will be there, my son, before I arrive. I imagine you whole. This isn’t a fairytale to hold in my grief. It is true. As I write through the tears, my broken heart knows that your heart is whole. I don’t understand it or like it. I can’t even fully appreciate it but it is true.

One year in heaven is one year away from this mama who loves you so much. I can still recall how you would jump in my womb and get the hiccups and the fear of your early delivery, not knowing if you would breathe. The first time we met face to face and you WERE breathing! All of our little talks about life and the world beyond hospital walls are still with me. Your cheeks are the best in the whole world. Your sideburns are legendary. Your big brother talks about you each time we see hand sanitizer. “Bubbles! We get those when we see Huddy!”  Your daddy is brave and works so hard and I catch him with tears rolling down his face as he remembers you, sweet boy. He wanted to teach you to fly a helicopter and take you to the farm. A dream lost. We miss you in the big things like Christmas morning but also in the little moments like bath time. I see your spot in our family at our table, in our car, in the grocery cart next to Graham. I see tired mamas with two little ones and I just stare at them to figure out if their kids are my kids’ ages. To see what it would look like if you were here with us. Just a glimpse of what it would be for us with two. With Huddy. Big Brother Grahambo and I have a game. We play, “If Huddy were here, what would we be doing?” Often his answers are things like hiding in the closet, dancing, playing with trains. My answer is kissing those awesome cheeks.

One year in heaven feels like forever for me. Part of me went with you. That’s okay, I’m your mama. The rest of me will arrive when God chooses. Sweet boy, worship has been so hard for this mama and done out of obedience and not delight. But, I’ve learned that is what we still have in common. You worship Him there and I’ll worship Him here (though it isn't always pretty). See, that’s what we’d do if Huddy were here or we were all in heaven, we would worship Jesus.

Let us worship...out of obedience and awe....

The Lord gives and the Lord takes away.

Blessed be the name of the Lord, in heaven and on earth.

Mama loves you, sweet boy.

You enjoy Jesus.

Sweet, sweet Jesus.

He surely is enough, even when your son has spent one year in heaven.

Dear Hudson: a letter to my baby boy in heaven

From Daddy & Mama

Written for our Hudson for his special service

May 20, 2016

Our Precious Hudson, our Huddy Buddy,

We often told you that you were the strongest person we had ever met. We sang Happy Birthday regularly. We would hold you for hours and sing to you and you would hold onto our finger for dear life. We talked about the seasons, what kindergarten is like, what middle and high school is like, prom, college, your amazing grandparents, fun uncles, aunts & cousins, The Alexander Farm and The Sylvestre farm and about tractors and helicopters. How we met and fell in love walking along the HUDSON River. About your big brother, Grahambo who learned the word, “brother” before he could say Hudson because that is how he knew you, his little brother. We told you about everything but most importantly about Jesus and heaven and how it was a real place where we will all be together.

We are so happy that you know the whole story now. You know what eternity is, what God looks like and you’ve touched the nail prints in Jesus’ hands. You’ve seen the golden streets and spent time with the Apostle Paul. There are no scars on your little body. You know the WHOLE story. THE WHOLE REDEMPTIVE STORY. You know your piece of the story and how much of an impact you’ve had on thousands of people, mostly on your mama and daddy’s hearts.

Forevermore, we will be Hudson’s mama and daddy. Though your home is in heaven, you will forever be our special boy who we would stare into your eyes and wished to bring to our house and show you the precious things of life, the mundane things and the most important things. We will miss your chubby cheeks, your squishy arms, your silly side burns and your little grunts telling us about your day.

We wanted to teach your ABC’s and how to count to five. We wanted to see you run and play and call your name across the house when it’s time for bed. We wanted to cuddle you and Graham on the bed just before it was time for “night, night”. We wanted to dance at your wedding and be your children’s grandparents but God’s plan was different.

God chose to call you home and to reveal to you, before us, His whole redemptive story. We don’t know exactly how heaven works. We know we will worship our amazing God but we do hope that God will allow you to welcome us there. To welcome us home, to be truly home and to finally see the whole story alongside you. What a glorious day it will be, to be with you again, our boy. Our precious Hudson. Our Huddy Buddy.

We miss you and wish we could have you back but sweet boy, enjoy our sweet Jesus. We are so glad you are whole.

We best buddies. Daddy, Mama, Graham & Hudson.

We best buddies…forevermore.

Thank you & "How am I doing?"

I don't know that I will ever be able to write each person back who has reached out in the last 8 or 9 months. I owe so many people thank you notes that I should invest in that super cute store, Paper Source. But, that does not diminish each and every note, card, blanket made, care package, gift card, donation, prayer we received. Every single one has been cherished along the way.

My heart is grateful and we would be utterly destitute without you and the generosity of others making sacrifices on our behalf on a daily basis.

So..for what it is worth....

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts. 

You have been a tangible Jesus to our family and you've kept us from being hauled off to the poor house and the loony bin.

The other question I get from people who love me is...

"How are you doing?"

I often don't answer. It is not to be rude. It is because as I read the question worded in so many different ways, I take a moment to reflect.

For months, in just one minute I will be angry, overcome with grief, anxious, full of tears, feel like I may throw up but then belly laugh at my silly husband letting our two year old climb the wall. I'm sleepless yet feel like I've run ten marathons. Every task (including writing this) takes herculean strength to complete. Why does it take me all day to write an email??? I feel like I'm swimming through mud and walking around with cement in my shoes.

How am I supposed to feel? I don't know. I'm mad as hell. I'm devastated. I'll never be the same.

I was reading the book A Grace Disguised this morning. The author lost his mother, wife and daughter in a car accident and he was left to raise their other 3 children. He talks about trauma like this as being an amputation. He says that some loss is like a broken bone that will mend but those who have lost a limb have to learn a new normal altogether. I have a lot to learn.

I've been on the front lines of war and now I'm suddenly jerked back into normal society with PTSD. I'm reading and learning from others who have gone before me on this sorrowful path. I learning that I have no control in my life except my response to what happens.

I refuse to let myself grow bitter because I know we serve a BIG God who does things like allow your baby to die without explanation but He is not cruel. He is good. He is eternal. His ways are not my ways. I'm still mad as hell but He is big enough to handle all of that and loves me just the same.

How am I doing? I'm full of tears and missing my chubby, squishy baby boy and trying to keep myself sane.

Hudson's Story

Sitting around a conference room table is not an unfamiliar place for me. I’ve done it for years for my job but this was a different experience that made me sick to my stomach. Once again my husband and I were talking to the brightest minds in our country about our son’s health and the news was very grim. They couldn’t even give us statistics for survival as they had not seen his specific case before.

Meet our son…

Our incredibly precious and strong baby boy, Hudson Sylvestre was born six weeks premature on July 17, 2015 with a condition called hypoplastic left heart syndrome, meaning he only has half a heart. With just two days’ notice, our family had to leave our home, jobs, church and family in North Carolina to relocate to Philadelphia to save our son’s life. In addition to his congenital heart defect, Hudson has also experienced several other life threatening conditions that required intervention even while in the womb.

In the delivery room the doctors offered for the hospital chaplain to come and quickly baptize our son and a photographer to get pictures in case we weren’t able to see him alive. To everyone’s surprise Hudson is breathing on his own after going into cardiac arrest and then being on life support.

Hudson has undergone open heart surgery and liver surgery as well as suffering through a life threatening infection in his stomach two different times. Our Hudson is an incredible fighter and is now three months old and in the cardiac intensive care unit at the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia (CHOP). He will remain under CHOP’s care until he is big enough for his second open heart surgery which means we will be away from home for at least several more months. We are so deeply thankful for the expert care he is receiving.

There are not sufficient words to express our gratitude to God, to the many family members, friends, churches and even strangers who have cared for us during such a painful time. Strangers have welcomed us into their homes, loaned us cars, donated food and funds. We love our sweet Hudson so much and we would have already been devastated without the support of others.

We ask you to join us in prayer for Hudson’s life and health. Thankfully he is stable now and is such a cutie. Check out his cheeks!

Hope lives here!

Romans 5:3-5

We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance,  and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.

With grateful hearts,

Corey, Amy & Big brother Graham

PS I’ve often said that if tears healed babies, our son would be whole.

To join Hudson’s journey, visit his page:

https://www.facebook.com/hudsonsheart/

https://www.gofundme.com/havehalfaheart

Tax Deductible Giving for Hudson

A dear friend got us in touch with Helping Hands Ministry and they have approved Hudson as one of their projects. They will accept tax deductible financial gifts on behalf of Hudson that will be used for his medical expenses now and in the future. A receipt is mailed to giver.

Below is the link and explanation for how to make a tax deductible donation through Helping Hands for Hudson:

• Website: www.hhmin.org.  
• Select Donate to a Helping Hands Approved Project
• Select Project Category: Medical
• Scroll to the Project Name-Sylvestre, Hudson

To learn more about Hudson's journey and need:
www.facebook.com/hudsonsheart

Hudson is 4 Months Old!!

Hudson is now four months old. That means he has been in the cardiac intensive care unit for 124 days since birth (plus another couple weeks in utero)! 

What a miracle this little man is! His physical therapist says he is doing great and meeting goals like getting more control of his head and grabbing for things he sees.

He currently weighs 10 and 1/2 pounds....yippee!

Hudson has had a lot of challenges and they aren't over but we are seeing him grow even in the midst of a cold and infections. 

More prayers for a stable blood pressure, great liver function & lower bilirubin, more growth, ability to tolerate more milk, lots of stability, no more infections, wisdom for his doctors and preparation for another open heart surgery in the months to come.

We love our Hudson!

Hudson shirt says it all! What a miracle!

A little tummy time!

One of this Hudson's caring nurses made this sweet sign for our sweet boy's special day!

Hudson is 3 Months Old!!

Our miracle baby is three months old! Hudson is still having major challenges but he is here and we are honored to be his parents. He has the cutest, kissable cheeks and we joke that he sometimes looks like a grumpy old man when he wrinkles up his little nose.

He is so precious and such a tangible miracle. We love him and want the very best for our boy.

Here's his big brother, Graham:

Hudson is so special that he's making news!

This image was on the hood of our friend's race car. So fun and incredibly thoughtful. Thanks, Davin & Kelley!

"Uncle Neil" is going to be sporting this awesome shirt when he runs the New York Marathon the first weekend of November! We love you, Neil!!

Our dear friends held a lemonade stand and bake sale for our sweet boy. We love you, Lily, Abby and Nathan! You are so good to us!

Here's a recent video of our Hudson: