2026 Baby Bucket List - August Progress

 

(Photo by Jeff Kingma on Unsplash)

At the end of 2025, I made a small bucket list of easy-to-achieve goals. The original list included 23 restaurants, 3 festivals, 4 destinations, and 7 movies. By the end of February, I had only checked off 3 items. By the end of May, I'd completed an additional 7 (mostly movies).

Now I would say I feel less motivated to tackle anything, but have more opportunity to do so. Getting away was always hard, given our struggle with our son's addiction. You never knew when crisis might strike. Somehow, we managed to take two small trips to Bedford, Indiana. The first time, in June, we got dinner and treated ourselves to a visit to Jiffy Treet (an amazing ice cream shop that would have been on my initial list if I'd thought of heading down that way). We stayed overnight, so we could pick Trevor up from the treatment center first thing in the morning. Then we took him home, transferred his car into his name (had been in my husband's name), and moved him into his Indy halfway house. 

The second time we went to Bedford, it was in our own interest (as an anniversary getaway). We drove to Blue Springs Caverns and took an hour-long cave boat tour. Yikes! That was interesting! We survived a potential overturned boat, a minute of total darkness, and then a terrifying minute when the tour guide couldn't get the boat re-started. I had visions of being stuck down there indefinitely. The motor had gotten lodged on a piece of rock. Thankfully, once the tour guide shifted it off that, the boat started up again and we were on our way out of that confining space.

We checked into our hotel, had an excellent dinner out, and then met friends at Jiffy Treet for another special dessert. The following morning, we headed back to the treatment center doubting anyone would be able to take the time to speak with us. What a blessing to find we were wrong! The director took time out of her busy schedule to meet with us for an hour to discuss Trevor. She shared details about his time there and things about what he indicated as struggles. It was so comforting to talk about him. She was empathetic and personable, sharing how addiction has affected her life.

I ended up seeing one additional movie between May and August. Sean wanted me to experience The Odyssey. He had gone and really enjoyed it. I, on the other hand, regret it. I thought it was far too violent, disturbing, and crass. Oh, well. Each to his own. 

As for restaurants, early in July, before Trevor's death, John and I made it to Cheddars. After Trevor's death, a friend took me out for lunch at a favorite of mine, Boulder Creek. We also went to Olive Garden for an anniversary dinner on that date. Toward the end of August, I went with a group of women to Rockstar Pizza. All of those were on the original list. Combined with the addition of the two trips to Jiffy Treat, we made it to six restaurants from the list between the end of May and the end of August.

We missed the Amo Fish Fry Festival in June. To be honest, I don't even know where Amo is. Ha! Who knows? Perhaps we'll make it to Danville's Fair-on-the-Square and Plainfield's Quaker Days next month. We may have to force ourselves to get out and about, but it is probably good for us in the midst of grieving.

Book Review: Mattering

Earlier this month, we had the privilege of speaking with a family who met Trevor at the time of his tragic accident on July 3rd. An off-duty officer was visiting at his parent's home when they heard the sound of the crash. The officer and his mother rushed to the scene. Trevor was terribly shaken. Although their interactions were brief, they said Trevor made a great impression on them. The officer said Trevor hugged him and, being a weightlifter himself, he was impressed by Trevor's strength. Trev openly admitted his fault and expressed concern for the other driver. He was genuinely gutted. I'm sure the officer and his mother were both worried about Trevor in the middle of his crisis. They said they continued to think of him for days afterwards, and were then shocked and dismayed to learn of Trevor's death. The mother told me it has changed how she interacts with people, because you never know when an interaction with someone might be your last. Plus, it touched us that they took the time to share these interactions after the fact.

This book, Mattering: The Secret to a Life of Deep Connection and Purpose, changed me in a similar way. A graphic on the Amazon page highlights readers who might be drawn to this book. I fit the target audience several times over. It is for "a seasoned parent doing their best" [and feeling like it may not have been good enough], for "anyone who hasn't heard yet how much they matter," for "a retiree wondering what's next," for "an empty nester struggling to find a new purpose," and "a person feeling adrift." Check. Check. Check. Check. Check. After reading the inspiring novel about mattering, Reports of His Death Have Been Greatly Exagerrated, this non-fiction book brings home that fictional illustration. We all long for, dare I say need, deep connection and purpose.

Jennifer Breheny Wallace identifies 5 factors in feeling like you matter. 1) "Recognition - your actions are valued, and your absence would be felt;" 2) "Reliance - you feel needed because others depend on you;" 3) "Importance - you're prioritized;" 4) "Ego Extension - others are invested in your well-being;" and 5) "Attunement - you feel deeply understood and meaningfully responded to." These spokes must be addressed in order to have a sense of purpose in life. Much like Brad Aronson's Humankind, this book gives ample illustrations of ways people invest in mattering. I loved the idea of calling a "Code Lavender" for psychological emergencies that require intervention to meet those needs.

So, how do we increase our sense of mattering? Wallace suggests we use the "mattering lens." Ask yourself what part of mattering is lacking: sense of impact, feeling relied upon, prioritized, attuned to, or invested in? The steps are also two-fold (especially for those facing transitions - my hand is raised). First, seek to let others in (read books, listen to podcasts, find others in the same transition to connect with). Second, shift to finding a way to meet someone else's need in the world (use actions or words to tell someone else they matter). Speak into their lives when you get a chance!

I loved this insight, "The surest way to sustain our own sense of mattering is to focus on making others feel like they matter. The shift from 'I matter' to 'we matter' gives us both the long-term resilience and legacy we crave." So, when tempted to say, "Poor me, I have few deep connections and little purpose," I need to take steps to increase connection (just like my addicted son flailed because of lack of connection, I too flail for the same reasons). I need to find things that will give my life purpose and meaning. In the past, so much of my identity was in my writing. When things make that difficult, my purpose takes a hit.

This is a vitally important book. Our society is riddled with loneliness. As jobs get sucked up by AI, where will people feel like they make a difference or their life matters? We tune out and connect virtually, rather than in-person. I'm as guilty as the next. It is easier to sit on my phone seeking fake connection than to take the steps and risks to form real connection. The world is full of people who need to know they matter, who need others to take the time to focus on them and really listen. I'm grateful for these two individuals who made my son feel he mattered, and shared with us his impact on them.

 

Laying Our Son to Rest

God, in His mercy, numbed my feelings and emotions for the first few weeks in the shock of my middle son's unexpected death. Outwardly, it looked as if I wasn't grieving. Inwardly, disbelief reverberated. Now that the funeral is over, my emotions are coming to the surface more. But, the time leading up to the funeral was so busy, we hardly had time to think or emote. 

We were blessed by countless people who came forward to love and support us in this trial. I kept wishing Trevor could see all the expressions of love and appreciation others felt for him and for us, through him. My friend, Heidi, told me she's convinced he does know. She wrote, "After my mom died, I had a vision/visitation of her sitting next to me and telling me that the pain she went through was gone and that ALL was known - she was SO happy! I believe ALL is now known to Trevor, including the love people have expressed during the last week and the love and support you and family gave during his life." This was such a comforting thought to share!

The day after Trevor's death, our oldest son, Bryce, flew from Dallas to be with us. What a comfort and blessing his presence brought! Somehow, it made the grief more bearable. Plus, he was invaluable to us. He set to work on a photo slideshow to put up on the funeral home's obituary page. He scoured my phone and my computer for images. He must have asked John, as well, because he used an impressive photo of Trevor's bodybuilding physique (some wondered if it was AI).

I'm sure Bryce emphasized photos from his earlier years, happy years before the drug associations and drug use. He was our exuberant little boy, and we have many fond memories of those carefree days. It was a big help and huge blessing to have Bryce handle that important piece. He was also helpful during the necessary meetings. When we met with the funeral director, Bryce took notes. He compiled and sent us a file of things to do (it all would have disappeared from my consciousness quickly). He accompanied us to select and purchase a gravesite (near his grandmother's headstone). He, again, took notes throughout our meeting with the pastor, as we arranged the funeral service songs and order.

God brought me to the wonderful songs that we used for his service. I came across "Approach, My Soul," by John Newton, in the Sing Hymnal I received for Mother's Day. We printed this inside the memory folder passed out to those in attendance. The words emphasize our desperate need of God's salvation and His gift of eternal life: "Bowed down beneath a load of sin, by Satan sorely pressed, by wars without and fears within, I come to Thee for rest... guilty sinners such as I might plead Thy gracious name!"

We used "It is Well," by Horatio Spafford, to signal the start of the service. This hymn was written in great grief after the unexpected deaths of his four daughters in a shipwreck. Crossing the exact site of their drowning, Spafford penned words to affirm his deep trust in God amid inexplicable loss. For the condensed slideshow, we selected Casting Crowns' song, "Scars in Heaven." The lyrics gutted me: "If I had only known the last time would be the last time." "What I'd give for one more day with you." "I know you're in a place where all your wounds have been erased, and knowing yours are healed is healing mine."

"He Will Hold Me Fast" was supposed to play after the family reflections, but it came after the eulogy. I love these lyrics, as well: "When the tempter would prevail, He will hold me fast. I could never keep my hold through life's fearful path, for my love is often cold. He must hold me fast... He'll not let my soul be lost, his promises shall last. Bought by Him at such great cost, He will hold me fast." What a beautiful arrangement by Kristyn and Keith Getty! What a solid proclamation of God's unending grace!

I doubt people really took in the lyrics to the departing song, "Christ is Mine Forevermore." This was another one found in The Sing Hymnal with poignant lyrics: "Mine are days that God has numbered. I was made to walk with Him; yet, I look for worldly treasure and forsake the King of Kings... Christ has paid for every failing, I am His forevermore... Mine are tears in times of sorrow, darkness not yet understood. Through the valley I must travel where I see no earthly good... I know my pain will not be wasted."

My sister-in-law, Miriam, was a great help for the family fellowship prior to the funeral. As I said, I'm not a gifted hostess. I don't easily whip up meals on command, even on a normal day, let alone a stressful one. After Miriam arrived and set out a spread of desserts and drinks, she agreed to look over my outfit choices. We ended up running back to Kohl's to exchange a top for a smaller size (I tend to seek very roomy clothes). I so appreciated her time and attention to these needs.

The time together in our home with family was beneficial and comforting. We talked about old times and memories of Trevor. Thankfully, Bryce and Elizabeth ran to get a large quantity of Chik-fil-A, so meal needs were met and I was able to set out the spread of veggies and snacks I had purchased for the gathering. On one end of our table, all the engineers talked engineering and the other end rehashed stories and spoke of my youngest brother's architectural projects. Many family members did not arrive until late the night before the funeral and my brother Mark's family drove up from Kentucky for the day. We had family come in from many other corners: Illinois, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Texas.

Blogger that I am, I wanted photos, but knew I'd be preoccupied and unable. My sister agreed to help. I'm sure it was uncomfortable trying to snap images in a room of grieving guests. She did an outstanding job, as evidenced by the photos accompanying this funeral recap post.

The hardest part was viewing his empty body. Trevor, of course, did not look like Trevor. He was not there. It was a vessel devoid of his spark and spirit. I could not have captured an image of his body. Dawn delicately snapped this shot:

We said our good-byes and let the grief wash over us. I told him, "I wanted more time!" Then, we allowed his girlfriend time to say her good-byes. 

Next, came a blur of greeting people who attended the visitation. A member of my BSF group came by briefly to bring flowers and give a hug. Four friends from the Women Forming Friendships in West Indy Facebook group came to offer comfort. Five of our friends drove all the way from Champaign-Urbana, IL. My college best friend, Anne, came all the way from Lombard, IL. I was sad that I only snagged a few moments with her as the press of people kept coming. Both Bryce's and Sean's friends came. Trevor had probably 7 or 8 friends from middle and high school years who came. A few of the girls in that group were kind enough to come express condolences. 

Trevor's 2nd grade teacher came up to tell me how sad she was because he had shown such great potential. Many individuals came from Pittsboro Baptist Church. Here are some images of family members who came:

I was blown away by Trevor's halfway house leader, Damien, who took an Uber all the way from Indianapolis to our little rural enclave. He had only known Trevor for less than two weeks (and knowing Trevor, he probably hadn't interacted much). We gave Damien a ride to the burial and learned that he, too, (like my husband) is from Champaign-Urbana.

Thanks to the funeral director's wife, you can view a video of the funeral here. After the condensed slideshow and a welcome, John's sister Martha read John's comments and shared some of her own memories of Trevor. I wasn't sure I'd make it through mine, but the humorous bits helped me stay composed.

The burial was a brief affair (good, since it was 95 degrees out) with prayer and committal. 

Then, Pittsboro Baptist Church provided a marvelous meal for family and friends. After the meal, my sister and brother-in-law treated many family members and Damien to ice cream at the local Dairy Bar. 

We got Damien into an Uber back to the halfway house and many descended back into our home for further fellowship. I relished time with Trevor's cousins. Now, the grief is truly descending and intensifying. 

Some may question my son's walk with God, because he used drugs. One even shared a prayer, "What joy it will be IF we get to heaven and discover Trevor is there.... We pray that Trevor in some way... [had] things straight with You [God] before this terrible occasion." I know my son's spiritual foundation was not built on what he did, but on what Christ did for him. I liken it to my mother's Alzheimer's. She raged and cursed. That was not my mother; it was her diseased brain. Drugs had altered Trevor's brain, rewiring to tell him drugs were his best solution to his pain. He responded physiologically, not spiritually. 

Every day, I wake with the realization that my son is no longer with us here on earth. I take comfort, because of his trust in Christ's atoning act on the cross, and believe we will be reunited one day in Heaven. Others may scoff and weep for his lost soul; I claim the atoning cross of Christ and His promise of eternal life. If you have not trusted in Christ, consider the gospel message (proclaimed in Trevor's funeral) and accept the free gift of eternal life. May Trevor, in death, reach more than we had hoped and prayed in life.

Losing Our Precious Son

Parenting a wayward child is an exhausting and distressing role. We have gone back and forth trying to determine what is the best way to respond and help our addicted son, Trevor. I will admit, we have not always been in agreement. Much of this stems from my husband's personal experience with an addicted sibling who took his life. I think he was desperate to come to a different conclusion with his son.

From day one, Trevor was very much like his Uncle Rob. He did things with vehemence. Most recently, his driven, give-it-all mentality zeroed in on his bodybuilding. Here is a photo of him flexing:

Unfortunately, he relapsed at the end of May. At 2 a.m., there was no way to take him to a treatment center, so we took him to the ER. They would only release him into a residential treatment center (good for them!) At first, still under the influence of the drugs, he refused to stay for the 28-day treatment. He wanted to leave after the initial 7-day detox period. My husband wanted to let him come back home. In my opinion, that would only enable him to go back to using (our home is where this all began). I began to pray importunately for God to change their minds. Praise God! My husband told him he couldn't come home and Trevor decided he would stick out the program.

Of course, he had to detox from everything (including the Retitrutide weight loss drugs he was injecting and the steroids he was taking to enhance his bodybuilding). He said they had snacks available everywhere and he had to get some dopamine somehow, so he ate himself into a 60-pound weight gain. The relapse was a crushing blow! The loss of his intentions to participate in a bodybuilding competition in August was a devastating blow! From there, things continued to spiral.

He moved from the treatment center into a halfway house in Indianapolis. We knew this wasn't the best plan (after all, he knew where to access drugs in Indy), but he wasn't moving home, either. He was living in Indy, working at a Steak 'n Shake in Brownsburg, and visiting his girlfriend in Kirklin. Many miles driven at a time when gas prices are high. He couldn't even break even.

Then came some relationship difficulties. I think his girlfriend had made it very clear to him that she was clean and she would not remain with someone who uses. The friction and pain escalated. He responded in very unhealthy ways. When he posted something on Instagram saying, "Hope you all enjoyed the sh!t show," we were terrified he intended to find drugs.

Then, on July 3rd, he was coming to our home to pick up some food. He said he was crying and couldn't see clearly. He plowed into the front end of another vehicle that had turned into a subdivision just in front of him. His car was totaled and he knew we had vowed not to replace it (we'd already helped him purchase 3 vehicles). I'm sure his mind was reeling. No car. No way to get from Indy to his job or to visit his girlfriend. Not to mention, the possibility that the other driver might sue him for his fault in the accident. He was suicidal. He did not want to live. I took him in my arms and he just sobbed. We prayed with him. He agreed to go to a psych hospital as soon as his girlfriend could take him after she finished work. While waiting, he called and learned the commitment time was 7-14 days. He decided he didn't want to lose his bed, his job, or his upcoming court date, so he found an outpatient psych therapy that he could do in the halfway house from his phone.

On July 4th, he posted photos of himself at a party holding a beer can. His younger brother tried to tell him these decisions were unwise. On July 5th, I drove to his halfway house to take him to work. I bought him a pizza because his house meeting had gone long and he'd had no dinner. That's the last time I saw my beloved boy.

On July 6th, he took an Uber to work. While at work, he kept going to the bathroom. Finally, he went to the bathroom and did not come out. A coworker knew Sean's phone number because Sean used to work there. She called to tell him there was an incident with Trevor and they needed a family member there immediately. After my husband headed to the restaurant, the coworker called back. Sean said he knew it was bad when she couldn't talk. He then came in to gently wake me and share that "there was an incident at the Steak 'n Shake, and he's gone." I shot up. My initial thought was I wanted to see him and hold him one more time. I didn't think I could drive, so Sean drove me over. They would not let me near his body. We were there until midnight speaking with detectives, officers, and the coroner.

This week has been a whirlwind of planning and details. It feels like every minute I have something else to think about or address. I'm holding together fine (probably helped by the antidepressant medication I'm on), but my husband is grieving intensely. I'm glad Trevor is no longer in the intense emotional pain he was carrying. I'm glad he no longer has to struggle and fight this demon.

If you want to view his obituary, a photo slideshow, and a remembrance journal, you can follow this link. We also set up a Trevor Hill Addiction Memorial Fund. Now begins the dreadful process of learning to live without him. After picking our oldest son, Bryce, up from the airport, we stopped to get Chinese carry-out. As I went in to pick up the food, I realized we will never be able to eat inside that restaurant again. Trevor loved to eat there and ate with gusto. Then, on Thursday, I finally managed to get in a walk. I used to always spend most of my walks praying about Trevor. That was a crushing moment.

Please pray for our family as we walk this difficult road. Even though I had irrationally wanted to see him on the night of his death, I know that the most difficult moment will be when we come for the visitation and see him laid out, a shell of the person he once was, devoid of his spark. I have asked to speak a few words. I am praying I am not incapacitated with grief. Pray we will hold up as they lower his body into the ground, in a finality that cannot be erased. We are heart-sick and deeply saddened by the loss of our precious son.

Mid-month Mention: Prayer is the Best Support

I need to compose a mid-month mention post full of helpful and uplifting links. At this point, I cannot do so. I am still feeling numb from a hellish week we endured. Much of it, I cannot share. I will share what I can.

At 5:30 a.m., on the last Wednesday in May, I was downstairs having my devotions. After a large thwump, the power went out. I tried to fumble my way upstairs without spilling my coffee. I crept toward the bathroom (where I keep the candles), tripping over Toby (ugh!). Unfortunately, candles themselves are of no use if you can't find matches or a lighter. I also could not, for the life of me, find the flashlight on my phone (I never use it). Our large flashlight had dead batteries. Great!

Finally, John woke and immediately called the power company. All was still black outside so no indication of what we were dealing with. The sun rose, revealing the true scenario. Another limb had fallen from a tree out back. It took out the entire pole and unit in the back yard. The power company arrived to deal with the situation. My husband hooked a generator up to the kitchen refridgerator.

We waited and waited. Trucks filled the driveway, blocking the garage so we could not take our other cold food elsewhere to store. Here are some photos I snagged of the damage - again, I apologize as photography is not my strong suit (is anything?):

I sent out a prayer request to my family, acknowledging my gratitude that it wasn't worse because at least the limb did not, once again, take out portions of the roof like last May. In response, I received messages that sounded like, "Wendy is so put-upon, Lord; help her with yet another complication to her life." Or, advice as to what we should do: "Start cooking [um, no power!] or grilling as much as you can [much of the time it was pouring rain]."

Then, there was the biggest kicker: "Perhaps you should consider having a tree-trimming company come out to assess the property, if you can afford it." Hmm. If only we had thought of that. Wait, we did, long before this! We had tree-trimmers come. They cut down one perilous tree, but explained they cannot go near limbs near power lines. That is the jurisdiction of the power company. We had the power company come out and assess. They claimed there were troublesome areas, but they'd have to get to it later. Unfortunately for us, later was not soon enough. A new pole had to be put in and the power was not restored for 7-1/2 hours (we're grateful for their quick work and know it could have been out for longer than that). We lost some food from the garage fridge, which had climbed to 52 degrees.

Needless to say, when even greater difficulties descended at the end of the week, I did not feel warm fuzzies about sharing. Instead, I fasted and prayed on my own. I did not reach out with prayer requests to family members full of advice. We continue to cling to God, the only One who can do the impossible. In these other dire situations, we need miracles! [Praise God, we saw dynamic answers to two specific importunate prayers!] 

We continue to beg God to change hearts and transform lives. How I pray God will redeem the years the locusts are eating! Please, if you are a praying person, lift our family up in prayer. And if someone asks you for prayer, think twice before launching into advice 😉, just 🙏! After all, it's the BEST thing you can do!

Added 6/11/26: We woke to another tree down. It broke at the trunk. Ridiculous! Again, we are so grateful it did not damage the house. Nobody has come out yet to chop down and take away the other limb, so now that job is just bigger. You can see the ruts in the grass from where they took equipment back to extract the old power line and pole. That's 3 downed trees in a little over a year. Add in the limb that took out the garden fence while we were away at Bryce's wedding in September 2024, and it makes 4. Sheesh!

 

Jumping Off Into a New Future

Our family is jumping off into a new future. In many ways we are unprepared. While eager to see how the changes play out in our lives, there's an abiding hesitancy that is hard to push down. Change is uncomfortable, unwieldy. To a certain extent, none of us wanted to move into the new, the untried. Yet, I know it will be good for each of us in the end. For now, we feel discombobulated!

Last week, John and I became empty nesters. We loaded the car full to the brim with belongings and moved our youngest, Sean, into a tiny Purdue University dorm room. My Facebook feed, as usual, knew exactly what was going on, and inundated me with images of magazine-worthy dorm rooms, sentimental articles, and lists of what to bring. As if the emotions weren't already tender, I had to wade through the detritus of on-line advice and eloquent parental good-byes (one woman lined a whole hallway with her son's childhood toys saying good-bye).

When we took Bryce to Purdue, he ushered us out of the room as soon as the last item hit the floor. Perhaps it was because we had his 8 and 10-year-old brothers in tow. That transition was painless. Bryce was eager to go. We still had responsibilities at home. Thankfully, Purdue isn't far away (as my sister pointed out, since she was a 20-hour drive away from her college kids). Plus, Bryce had a girlfriend back home, so I drove to Purdue way too often to bring him home for weekend visits.

This time is different. Sean is our last to leave. I have always called him "my sweetness and light." Sure, he was busy with friends, school, activities, and work during his final year at home, but he moved in and out of our lives daily. Now, the house is far too quiet. My role is done. My identity is blurred.

I'd love to think this might jump-start me back into writing consistently. Somehow, I doubt it will. Neither noise nor time keeps me from the writing. I'd love to find a new activity. In a Facebook group, a woman asked for short story suggestions as she had just taken up a post leading a book club in an assisted living facility. Now that sounds perfect!

Perhaps I need to get a job. We will have expenses we were not anticipating and there's the Purdue bill, as well. Somehow, I doubt anyone will hire someone who has been out of the workforce for 18 years. My gig was good, even if it was unpaid, often had lousy hours, and sometimes felt thankless.

Of course, there's a freedom now, too. The first night, John and I window-shopped at a flea market. I've been wanting a vintage sewing box to store my now-minimized sewing supplies. Then, we popped into a bakery, hoping for a strawberry pie. Alas, they only had strawberry-rhubarb (too tart for me). Finally, we ate out for dinner. It was better than going home to the now-quiet-house.

We can make more effort to get away for a weekend. Perhaps we'll take that trip to Mackinac Island. Even if it is just away to our old standbys (Nashville, IN; Rockville, IN for the Covered Bridge Festival; or even closer towns), it will be good to travel and spend time in the couple identity we have reclaimed. I have a few friends I've wanted to visit or invite. The possibilities are endless, really. I should cling to that when loneliness and quiet threaten to overwhelm.

So far, all of this is focused on Sean, John, and me. But, Trevor is at his own crossroads. I try not to divulge much because his story is his own and sometimes isn't as tidy as people like to hear (or I like to tell). We continue to pray fervently for God to use him in a mighty way. At the end of July, we moved Trevor into a halfway house in Lafayette, so our younger two are living in sister cities. 

He has been on a long and challenging road this past year (one we have traveled both from a distance and alongside). Not a single day is assured. He told us once that he has skirted death at least ten different times. We try hard to fight the urge to protect him from his testimony. God has a plan and He is the only One capable of getting Trevor where he needs to go. God's plans are always for our good and His glory.

So, we are each heading off in new directions. We step into the unknown timidly, but with the assurance that God walks with us. An empty nest. A college education. A chance to transition into a life of sobriety, maturity, and purpose. 

My Wheaton College class selected a verse of scripture that I still know and embrace. I may be using it out of context, but I cling to this promise nonetheless:

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29:11 - NIV)

Reminders of Sweetness Amid the Sour

My beloved prodigal is approaching a special birthday - 2 decades of life. For him, this is an accomplishment as he has done much to challenge this landmark. Indeed, I wonder if he is a cat, with the requisite nine lives. He has "slipped the noose" repeatedly and this wears on my emotional reserves. My husband cannot bear to look at sweet photos from the past in the midst of our current crisis. However, I needed the reminder of his sweetness and a dozen or so years that were free from the scourge of drug use. God gifted Trevor into our lives almost 20 years ago, and despite much sorrow, grief, and discouragement, I will fix my eyes on the many blessings his life has provided us.

I'm not a photographer. I don't often capture images. Thus, I scoured my blog, grateful for this catalog of memories that I sometimes fail to bring forth. Trevor has always been bright, creative, funny, and thoughtful. I found numerous examples of personalized cards he made for me (often with poetry). Ever artistic (here's art from age 10), he created images paired with sentiments he knew would touch my heart. While the cards are lost in the pack-rat detritus of my life, I can look back on my blog and enjoy the sentiments, the art, and the boy behind these kind gestures.

In my earliest photos of Trevor (from 2008), he was almost constantly in super hero attire. Indeed, on one visit to the library, they pulled me aside and gave me a large stuffed Spiderman. They were purging it from the library possessions and wanted to pass it along to the young boy who always came in dressed as Spiderman.

In 2009, we added our first dog, Harley, to the mix and Trev was very fond of him:

Mid-2009, he cut his own hair (worried it might be too long like his 13-year-old brother's hair):

In November of 2009, I captured this sweet and hilarious video of Trevor reciting The Lord's Prayer. He had learned this in his Christian preschool class. During the recitation, he accidentally burped, then cracked up when I exclaimed that I didn't remember that as part of the prayer.

In 2010, Trev got ahold of a blow torch and singed his bangs off (like I said, his guardian angel works overtime!) - go here to read the whole story and my funny friend Laura's quip in reaction to the tale):

That same year, Trev set up shop selling us his artwork and, in the fall, began kindergarten:

Looking at the photo above, reminds me of another guardian angel moment (on this day his jeans caught in the bike chain and, unable to stop, he zoomed across our street - where cars often speed past at 40-50 mph - safely and miraculously landing on the grass across the street).

In 2011, he went for a brief visit with grandma and found his granddad's war helmet, rode the zipline at CBLI, and became interested in football:

In 2013, we continued to enjoy the zipline at camp:

In 2015, Trevor and I took a special spring break trip to visit with my parents in Florida. He caught a lizard and set him free (despite accidentally severing his tail):

In 2017, he proudly displayed a fish catch at CBLI:

This was also the age of his bottle-flipping stage and in spring of 2018, he created this hilarious basketball spoof video:

The last two photos are from the cusp of our problems with Trevor, when he broke his leg during the first football game of his 8th grade season:

(This is another photo that stirs intense gratitude. We praise God that He spared Trevor's life and the lives of others near the accident that totaled the truck recently.)

It is good to reminisce over the sweeter days amid ones that leave a sour taste in our mouths. We are grateful for the prayers of so many, lifting Trevor before the Lord. I anxiously await his return to the sweet person he was prior to this departure into drug use and rebellion. May God help us cling to Him when timing doesn't speed along Trevor's recovery and return. May the guardian angels, who have prevented numerous perils in the past, continue to protect him.

We love you, Trevor! Don't ever forget it! We long to see you healed of this addiction, but you are a gift, even amid the pain!

Learning to Hold Things Loosely

With three sons passing through the teenage driving stage, I'm not new to car accidents. We've been down this road more than our fair share, I believe. I've had three myself. I hit a tree when backing out of my professor's driveway (while driving my then best friend's car - hmm, no longer best friend 😉). Another time, I glanced at an accident while turning at an intersection and didn't expect a fire truck parked inside the intersection. Yes, I hit a fire truck (not the big kind, mind you, but still...). Finally, a large construction vehicle backed into the road. I was the fifth car back. By the time the car in front of me slammed on the brakes, it left insufficient time for me to stop and I plowed into his vehicle. He was very nice about it - my husband (we were separated at the time), not so much!

My oldest son had three car accidents. The first time, there was condensation on his windshield. He tried to scrape it off, but it remained. Sadly, he drove even though he couldn't properly see. He hit another student's car as she made her way out of the school parking lot. The second time, he misjudged his timing, assuming he had time to turn in front of an oncoming vehicle. He told me with exasperation, "Mom, she saw me and she sped up!" His third accident left us reeling. He was fine, yes, but his beloved Mustang was not.

Now, it is my middle son's turn. When he first began driving, a fox ran out into the road and hit the front of his vehicle. Next, he hit a patch of ice and slid into a stop sign (oh, wait - I've had 4!!! - I hit a patch of ice and slid into a telephone pole, yikes!), requiring a door replacement. Now, he has had his third accident. On the way home from work, on the back country roads, he skimmed the side of a concrete bridge. When we arrived, he was partway in the grass and the tire that was hit was almost perpendicular from the other. They had to change this tire's position to transport it on the tow truck.

This was his beloved convertible. I'm grateful he's alive. No limbs were broken, and the car didn't flip. Still, he is beside himself with grief and determination to fix the thing (please, Lord, don't let him pour more money into a dying vehicle!). He sees only cosmetic damage and thinks it is not a big deal to purchase a new door, etc. Yet, the body shop's initial estimate (which, we all know how those things go up) was $8K. Even if he wanted to fix it himself, he doesn't have that skill set. Plus, we don't know what damage was done to the axle and engine. Needless to say, this has been a stressful start to a new year, following an extremely stressful year.

On the bright side, God answered both prayers offered in the way we hoped. The Lord kept these precious sons safe. Thank you, Lord! Please continue to hold them tightly in Your hand.