Seventy Things I love about my Deddy

1.     He loves Jesus more than anything else

2.     He tells really good stories

3.     He doesn’t let others determine what he thinks about himself

4.     He taught me that you have to like yourself because you’ll always be with yourself

5.     He works so hard and has always taken care of our family

6.     He tells people about Jesus with ease

7.     He spends time with people from all walks of life

8.     He easily shares his tears

9.     He enjoys writing stories

10. He is a talented artist

11. He will do work for people and expect nothing in return

12. He enjoys playing with Graham

13. He took care of Graham when he was an infant so I could go back to work and would bring him by my office at lunch time

14. He fixed up the downstairs so I could have my own bedroom and bathroom

15. He calls me Miss America

16. He sacrifices his own desires for all of us

17. He dropped everything and moved to Philadelphia for two months for Hudson

18. He would get up before all of us and walk to the hospital just to check on Hudson

19. He takes Graham down to the creek even after playing for hours

20. He is a good teacher of many different things

21. He is patient

22. I’ve never heard him raise his voice

23. He shares stories about Vietnam

24. He makes me feel pretty

25. He encourages me to use my skills

26. He celebrates my successes

27. He encouraged Corey to stick around 😊

28. He has always been an example for the kind of man I should marry

29. He would do anything and has done anything for his kids

30. He is funny

31. He always jokes that we should move to a remote hut he finds in National Geographic

32. He built us the zip line, tree house, creek swing, life size doll house

33. He spoils Graham with so many toys

34. He is the best Papa Joe

35. He sings and dances with Graham

36. He always made Jesus a priority for our family

37. He taught us the Bible

38. He was committed to our church by leading Sundays schools, Bible studies, doing carpentry work, etc

39. He is a skilled craftsman

40. He would work on my house in Charlotte on top of everything else had to do

41. He always brags on me

42. He will fall in the floor laughing when telling a story or watching something funny

43. He sacrificed his own time to teach at the prisons

44. He spends time playing pool at the beer joint so that he can be there for people who need Jesus

45. He would pick up hitchhikers and let them stay in our basement and give them work

46. He has prayed and prayed and prayed for our family

47. He is an avid reader

48. I have clear memories from my childhood of Deddy lying in bed reading his Bible

49. He joined a singing group to learn how to harmonize

50. He has used his skills as a carpenter to bless so many families

51. Corey likes his hair, laugh and that he helps people

52. He is handsome

53. He always gets teary when he talks about his wedding and marrying mama

54. He is forgiving

55. He has lifelong friends who I love to see him laugh with

56. He would take us to the beach for family vacation

57. He would take us to church camp

58. He gave many years to children’s ministry for no pay

59. He has been a dad to many, many people who did not have stable home lives

60. Many people call him their best friend

61. He has supported me in my dreams even if that meant having to be away from home

62. He won’t talk about people unless it is bragging on them

63. He is quick to share what he is learning from scripture

64. He can take apart and put a tractor back together with no help

65. You can hear his laugh from far away and others laugh with him

66. No matter what, he clings to Jesus

67. His mind is set on eternity and not on this temporary world

68. He loves me very much

69. He has always made life fun even when hard things were going on

70. He has lived a life of sacrifice, forgiveness, laughter, joy, fun, faith, hope, love and is the best deddy in the whole world.

I love you very much, Deddy!!!!!!!!!

HAPPY

HAPPY

BIRTHDAY!!!

Love, Amy

(for Corey, Graham and Hudson)

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!

A Grief Journey: The Gift of the Ordinary

"We often miss what is important on the quest for extraordinary." Brene Brown

I am a person of routine. I like making lists and checking off the things accomplished. I even write lists of things I’ve already done just to check them off. You too?

Well perhaps your day includes making breakfast, paying a bill online, getting an oil change, the drop off line and lists upon lists of to-dos. Ordinary life consists of things like grocery lists, school and church event calendars and family vacations.

Just last year I longed for the ordinary. The struggles of normal life of juggling work, home and ministry felt a million miles away. I was sitting in the cardiac intensive care unit day after day, hour after hour for months. Today I wouldn’t exchange a single second of that time with my son for anything spectacular much less something ordinary. But, some days sitting in that sterile, fluorescent-lite hospital room, I would dream of simple days of needing to mow the grass and run to the grocery store. These tasks don’t disappear when your child is hospitalized but they certainly don’t matter the way they once did.

Right after losing our son, the ordinary tasks of “adulting” were nearly impossible. Trying to write simple emails or texts took herculean mind power.  Yet I wanted the ordinary. I wanted to be normal and to be able to go to the grocery store without feeling out of body and in a fog.

I remember standing among strangers feeling as though I had come back from war and all my wounds were covered by my clothing. They didn’t know where I had been, what I had seen, what I had lost or that my wounds were so fresh that some were still bleeding through the hidden bandages. I wanted to run or scream or stop them and tell them, “Do you know where I’ve been? Do you know there’s a war? Do you know they are dying?” But, I just stood there observing the ordinary; life happening all around me.

Choosing fresh fruit

Checking the mail

Tying a shoe

Chasing after the bus

Scolding a child

Holding hands

Looking back over the months spent with our son, I realized there was a around a three month period where the only places I went were our apartment and the hospital. I stopped communication with everyone but my husband, my sons and the doctors/nurses. I only knew the war. All I could bear was the war; the war my son was fighting to stay alive. It was his fight but I was in the war with him. There was no ordinary.

It’s been around 400 days since we left the war. It’s not over and is still going on in that same hospital room. It’s a new child now because our son is done. Our son will no longer know the war and he will never know the ordinary.

I wish he got to know the ordinary for just a little while. Soccer games, Sunday school, crushes on little girls, playing with his big brother and bath time. But, really…are those memories ordinary?

The way I think is different now that I’m outside the war. When I’m observing every day, ordinary life I wonder things like,

“Are those her only two children or does she have more in heaven like I do?”

“Oh, she’s about 6 months pregnant. Oh Jesus, please knit that baby together with a full heart.”

“I can only imagine what it would be like with two wild toddler boys to running around this little town home! I might be crazy by now!”

I’ve realized that all the little things we do that make up this ordinary life really aren’t all that ordinary. Ordinary means commonplace, normal, standard. My special son taught me that at the end of the day nothing is truly ordinary. Doing laundry, going to work, caring for our homes, giving to the church, sharing our hearts, completing those to-do lists every week become extraordinary when we consider them as acts of love and ways to build lasting memories.

For example, a few weeks ago my son was playing in Chick Fil A with several little girls. Up the slide and down the slide. Squeals heard for miles. Seemingly so ordinary. No wounds visible to the outside. Yet, our big boy has lost his little brother and those little girls had lost their dad just a few days earlier. Simple playing. Hidden wounds. So extraordinary.

I can no longer do a task in and of itself without connecting it to the larger purpose of my life to love and serve others. Sometimes I still unload the dishwasher on autopilot but when I lay my head down at night, I think about the war. His war. My war wounds are still not visible to those around me. I’m sure your wounds are also hidden. So let’s remember together that life is not commonplace. There is always a bigger story going on in the lives of those around us. Let’s step into the ordinary of others’ lives to find the extraordinary; perhaps engaging deeply enough in hopes to stop the hidden bleeding. Let’s invest in others’ hearts by sharing our own wounds.

I’ve realized my strong son and the grief we have endured has exposed me to the gift of the ordinary and for that I am thankful.

“The most extraordinary thing in the world is an ordinary man and an ordinary woman and their ordinary children.” ― G.K. Chesterton