Today is Caleb’s 14th birthday, all of them celebrated in heaven, while we are stuck on earth without him in a mix of heart ache and sorrow. Certainly some things get better with time. Now I can (mostly*) control my emotions until I have time and privacy to cry. I can day dream about what life would look like with three boys instead of two. I can imagine what Caleb would be like and look like. I can share our story with others.
A few times this year I have been able to share with people about Caleb’s short life and how I survived his loss. A new neighbor, an old friend, a conference full of women, small groups and large groups at Bible study. Because I have so publicly shared our grief and God’s faithfulness, people ask me about Caleb often. When a friend of a friend loses a baby… When a neighbor’s sister has a miscarriage… When a friend’s co-worker has a still birth… I have the privilege to walk alongside them, to share my story, to share the hope I have that I will see Caleb again in heaven. I share about God’s love and faithfulness, that His peace filled me despite my devastation.
Now all these women are part of The Club. The Club you didn’t know existed until you were in it. The Club you never wanted to be part of. Moms who have lost babies. You realize that heartbreak isn’t just a saying, but a physical pain. Does it ever heal? Some days I’m still surprised by how quickly my grief can be triggered.
Earlier this year a friend of mine texted that she was at the hospital and had to deliver her baby a few weeks early. Even though her circumstances were different than mine, and her and the baby were expected to be healthy, I found myself sitting on the kitchen floor crying. I was so scared for her and the baby. I prayed that God would protect them and that everything would go well.
But then I also say “Why God… why does she get her baby and I didn’t get mine?” I see pictures of a preemie baby on Facebook … “God why couldn’t I make it a few more weeks? Then I’d have Caleb with me.” I really am grateful for every baby that gets to go home with their parents. I just wish I had mine too.
I don’t know the answer to why some moms get to take their babies home and some moms have empty arms. But I do know that sharing Caleb’s story has helped many women. I will always do my best to walk alongside the grieving, to show them God’s love, and to pray they find comfort and peace in Him like I have.
Happy 14th Birthday Caleb. I love you always!
*I wrote this while eating lunch at Jimmy John’s and definitely cried. But I’m ok with crying in public now.
This weekend I played guitar for the IF Gathering, a local women’s conference at church that featured some video speakers from the national conference, as well as featuring some local speakers. At 10pm on Friday night my sister who organized the event realized a couple people she had asked weren’t able to speak the next morning and there was a gap in the schedule.
I was standing there with the planning team when one said, “Debbie why don’t you share your story?” We all kind of laughed because it was such short notice. Except I’ve written so many different parts of it, I thought I could combine things if you want. About 11 hours later, I shared my story…
About 13 years ago I had some news for my husband, so I made him a special dinner. He walked in the door and I told him the menu. “Tonight we are having BABY back ribs, sweet BABY ray’s bbq sauce, and BABY carrots.” Jeff said “Oh that’s funny. All those things have “baby” in the name.” It took him a minute to figure out the news was that I was pregnant!
We were so excited for our first baby. We dreamed and planned … But halfway through the pregnancy our dreams came to a crushing end. I found myself being rushed to the hospital in an ambulance, doctors telling me that I’m already in labor and they can’t stop it. I would have to deliver our baby that night but he wouldn’t survive.
A range of emotions and thoughts filled our minds over the next few hours as we waited for labor to intensify. But our main focus was, we didn’t have a name for this baby. What do you name a baby who will go straight to heaven?
There was one bible story that kept coming to mind. It’s the story of Moses leading the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt. They had miraculously left Egypt, survived the plagues that God sent to Pharaoh and the Egyptian people, the Israelites crossed the Red Sea on dry ground as God parted the waters.. and now they’re in the desert where God miraculously provided manna for them. They were on their way to the Promised Land. It’s called “the Promised Land” because God promised to give this land to the Israelites. That simple.
Moses decides to send 12 men into the promised land to spy on it, to check it out and report back to the people what they find. These 12 men come back and say the land is amazing. It’s exactly how God promised – flowing with milk and honey, filled with the best fruits. BUT 10 men said there are giants living there. And we can’t beat them. The other 2 men said yes there are giants, but God is giving us this land. Let’s go! Those two men were Joshua and Caleb. Unfortunately the Israelites caved in to the fear that the 10 men had. They were afraid of the giants. They doubted God. And so God said that those people would not see the promised land. The entire generation would die, except for Joshua and Caleb.
They roamed around the wilderness, the desert for 40 years, waiting for that generation of Israelites to die. Then Joshua and Caleb, now in their 80s would lead the people into the promised land.
What does this story have to do with a baby? I knew there were going to be “giants” in my future. There would be fears about having children, trying to get pregnant again, losing another baby. I did not want to live in fear. I wanted to be like Joshua and Caleb who had faith in God. So I said to my husband, how about we name the baby Joshua? He said there was a Josh in kindergarten who punched him in the nose. So how about Caleb?
Naming our baby Caleb was a reminder – is still a reminder – to me to not give in to fear and worry, but to have faith in God. Because of Jesus, I have faith.
Caleb died at birth. We held his body all night. The next day we left the hospital without him and began planning his funeral. In the days and weeks and months that followed, the grief I experienced was unlike anything I had ever known. I would cry myself to sleep almost every night. I had always been a pretty stoic person, but after having Caleb, there was no filter on my emotions. I remember being at the grocery store when the checkout lady asked “how are you?” And I began tearing up “I’m not good…” My husband would be like “She’s not really asking to hear your story.” But I felt like I was an open book, like sorrow was written on my face.
What got me through these days was the Word of God. Thankfully I grew up going to church, in high school I made my faith my own, and in college I had begun reading the Bible every day. This foundation of faith saved me. In my time of sorrow and mourning, Bible verses came to my mind of God’s comfort, of God being with the broken-hearted, of God seeing every tear I cry, of God’s unfailing love. Despite the grief and the sorrow, I had peace. Because of Jesus, I have peace.
Baby Caleb
Several months later I got pregnant again. From the beginning, I was confident that everything was going to be fine. But halfway through the pregnancy, I began to have the same problems. Thankfully the doctors were able to do emergency surgery putting in a cerclage to keep the baby safe inside me. Except it meant I had to be on bed rest for the remainder of the pregnancy – 4 months flat on my back.
Those months of bed rest could have been filled with fear and worry and anxiety. Because of losing Caleb, I understood very clearly that bed rest meant life or death for this baby. There was nothing I could do, no money I could pay, no medicine to take to fix this situation. The only thing I could do was pray.
I happened to be reading in Mark at that time and came across 11:24 where Jesus is talking to his disciples about faith. Jesus says to them, “Whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you HAVE received it, and it will be yours.” It really struck me to believe you have already received it, as if it was past-tense. So I prayed for a full-term baby. I started a blog and I asked friends and family to pray with us. At my weekly doctor appointments, they would measure everything and then say my goal was 24 weeks, then 26 weeks, then 28 weeks. And every time I would say, “no, I’ve prayed for a full-term baby and I believe God will give him to us.” I didn’t say this as a way to try to witness to my doctors. I said it because I needed to believe. I needed to keep reminding myself that because of Jesus, I have faith.
At 37 weeks a baby is considered full-term. My doctor removed the cerclage and I was no longer on bed rest. It was May so I was pulling weeds and doing yard work, so excited that I could finally do whatever I wanted. The doctors expected the baby would come any day. I knew my prayer was answered and expected the baby to come soon too. But at 40 weeks and 5 days I was induced! God did what only He could do. My doctors were great, medical advancements are great. But some things you know are only God. That healthy baby boy was my son Jack who is now 11 years old. I have another son, Parker, who is 8. Because of Jesus, I have faith.
Today I have a different kind of suffering. It has been 5 months since my last concussion. I have had 4 concussions in my life, but the last three were in less than two years from playing adult recreational indoor soccer. After 5 months I still have headaches, I still have some dizziness, I still have a lot of fatigue, I still have times of being irritable. I have times where I struggle to remember the words I want to say. Times when writing or reading or playing guitar are really challenging. I still see a physical therapist and an occupational therapist every week. Although I have made a lot of progress, I’m still in a period of suffering. At times I doubt and I struggle and I question, “is this my new normal?”
It’s hard to be suffering and still functional. It’s hard to be suffering and still take care of my kids – especially when they want to play soccer or football and I can’t run yet. It’s hard to be suffering and still take care of work and responsibilities, or my house, or my family. It’s hard to be suffering and have faith. It’s hard to be suffering and have peace.
Light and sound sensitive, so I wore a hat and sunglasses for months when leading music
But I look back and see what God has done in my life. I look back and I see the peace He gave me when I was grieving Caleb. I see the faith God gave me when I was on bedrest. And now I see the Hope. Because of Jesus I have hope that this isn’t the end of my story. Hope that fear is not my future and sickness is not my story. It’s not about a cure. Yes, I hope that one day I will be fully healed. But like Katherine Wolf said in her talk last night, it’s not about a cure, but about what God is doing in me now in this process to get to healing. Because of Jesus I have hope that His plan is better than my plans. Hope that He can work all things together for good. Hope that He can bring purpose to my pain. Because of Jesus I have hope.
Maybe you can relate to parts of my story. Maybe you have experienced miscarriage or infant loss or pregnancy challenges. Maybe you have walked through a health crisis. Maybe you’re walking through it now. Maybe the challenges you have faced have been a wayward child, a divorce, the loss of a career, the death of a parent… unfortunately we know difficulties will come.
But I hope like me that you have a foundation of faith to rest on. I hope that you will be able to keep your eyes fixed on Jesus, the author and perfector of our faith. That you would rest in God’s promise to mold us into becoming more like Him. That you would consider it pure joy when you face trials, knowing that the testing of our faith would produce perseverance.
Because of Jesus, I have peace.
Because of Jesus, I have faith.
Because of Jesus, I have hope.
Lets pray. Lord Jesus I thank you that you are the Giver of all good gifts. I thank you that you never leave us or forsake us. Thank you Lord for walking with us through life’s difficulties, for being our comfort. Thank you for giving us peace, faith and hope. In Jesus’ name, Amen.
When Caleb first died, I remember posting on social media about our loss. Friends would comment their condolences and express how heartbroken they were with me. But then I would see their posts of birthday parties or kids sports games or whatever fun they were having. “How can my world feel like it has ended and theirs just keeps going?” I would think.
As time went on, I realized my world hadn’t ended. But there are still days when grief hits so hard that I want everything else to stop. I want to be able to sit in the sadness and remember Caleb. I want to cry without the pressure of only having a few minutes. I want my world to stop so I can remember.
I’m writing this from a junior high gym filled with students playing different band instruments, warming up for their solo ensembles. And I don’t have Kleenex in my pocket.
Today is Caleb’s 13th birthday, each of them celebrated in heaven. In those 13 years, I’ve had two more children. One warming up for his solo ensemble. The other getting ready for his basketball game. My world keeps spinning.
This has been a week where I wanted everything to stop so I could have time to be sad. But yesterday was my best friend’s 40th birthday. Then last night I emceed our school’s fundraising dinner which I helped plan. These are things I love, people I want to celebrate, events I enjoy. Yet my heart sits in conflict between the grief of losing Caleb and the joys of today.
In the months after Caleb first died, I could not compartmentalize my emotions. The check out lady at the grocery store would say “hi how are you?” And I would tell her the truth, “I’m not good. My son just died.” She was not expecting that. Jeff would tell me, “just say ‘fine.’ People don’t really want to know all that.” But with me, what you saw was what you got. My emotions were so raw that I felt like you could look at me and tell my heart was broken.
I’m better at compartmentalizing now. But I don’t necessarily think that’s a good thing. I cried Sunday, Monday and Tuesday. Then I stopped. I stopped thinking about Caleb. I turned off my emotions. I let my world keep spinning so I could celebrate my best friend, so I could plan a fun event, so I could raise money for school, so I can be present at the band ensemble and basketball game. And I do enjoy it all.
I think Caleb would have enjoyed it too. He would have loved a golfing party with my friend. He’d support his brothers at their events and probably have his own too. We’d be planning a special dinner or party with his friends. I wish we had that.
I wish for a lot of things with Caleb. But I know he has the best in Heaven. Someday we’ll be together again. No tears, no pain, no heartache. No compartmentalizing emotions. Just joy.
Nine years ago today, I laid in a hospital bed unprepared for the news I would hear. “You have to deliver the baby today but he won’t survive.” Incompatible with life. Just a couple more weeks in the womb and the story would be so different.
We held our baby Caleb, remarking on his long fingers and fingernails, and how he had his daddy’s nose. While our eyes filled with tears we knew he was home in heaven. In those moments I learned the depth of a mother’s love and the depth of a mother’s pain.
The days and weeks and months that followed brought grief, yet hope, sadness, yet trust in God, heartache, yet faith. I had family and friends who surrounded me in prayer, hope and support. It’s called a Turtle Formation.
In Bible times, when Roman soldiers were under attack they would come together with their shields – as big as doors – and huddle inside with the shields facing out. The formation looked like the shell of a turtle. Each shield was so big it would cover one soldier plus the gaps on the sides between soldiers. The enemy would hurl flaming arrows, but the shields would extinguish them.
Ephesians 6:16 tells us that God gives us armor. “Take up your shields of faith with which to extinguish the fiery darts of the enemy.”
On days like this I remember Caleb, nine years in heaven. I remember the sadness I felt. I remember leaning against the tree by his grave praying God would bring him back to life. I remember crying in the grocery store. I remember discovering that Kleenex shreds into pieces on my tear-stained cheeks. And I remember the faith-filled friends who stood by me.
Every comment on Facebook, every heart emoji, every text, every card, every phone call – they extinguish those fiery darts the enemy throws trying to make me question and doubt. Friends, your words have helped me stand firm taking up my shield of faith. I thank God for you!
Do you have friends like that? Do you have friends who hold up their shields of faith to protect you when you are hurting? When you face struggles and temptations, do you have friends to call? I hope you never need them. But I know that isn’t reality. We all need people to stand with us in faith when our faith is tested.
Be the friend who calls, who remembers, who cares. Take up your shield of faith and know that God is good, He is faithful, and you can trust Him.
For 8 years, a piece of my heart has been missing. When my first son Caleb was born, 8 years ago today, he went straight to heaven. We held his tiny body. 10 fingers, 10 toes. Daddy’s nose. Eye lashes, finger nails. (Lord may I humbly suggest you work on the vital organs and lungs before nails and eyelashes.) Caleb was born prematurely and wouldn’t live on this earth.
The joy of being a new mom immediately replaced with the sorrow of losing a child. He never called me Mommy or told me he loved me. But the day he was born my heart grew so much. I loved Caleb more than I ever knew I could love anyone! Saying goodbye at his grave I buried a piece of my heart. A big piece.
In the years that followed, Jeff and I had two more sons Jack (6) and Parker (3). Some people say things like “sorry for Caleb’s loss BUT at least you have Jack and Parker.” I understand what they mean and their good intentions. But there is no BUT. I have sorrow and grief about Caleb’s death and no other child can replace him or fix the grief. At first I thought it would.
When Jack was born, I thought now I have my boy. But it was different. There should have been two boys. Then we had Parker and I had my two boys. But there should be three. Sometimes I’ll buy matching clothes for Jack and Parker and have this longing to buy a third set. There should be three.
Chasing Jack and Parker around certainly fills my time and brings me joy. But my heart will always be split. My heart and ability to love has grown exponentially with each child, more than I ever thought possible. But a piece of my heart will always be in heaven with Caleb until one day we are reunited.
Until then I rest in the knowledge that God is good, faithful, and trustworthy. He is near to the broken-hearted. He sees every tear I cry. He gives me peace that passes all understanding. Thank You Lord.
Yesterday, on Caleb’s third birthday, I heard from many friends. A few texts and emails, many “likes” and comments on my facebook posts. Thank you. It was more than I expected. Waking up to a few emails from friends saying they were praying for me and remembering me was so comforting. I’m not alone.
Jack has been sick for a few days with congestion and a cough. His deep scratchy voice is both cute and sad. But it made for a strange day. I didn’t have any plans for Caleb’s birthday, but I didn’t picture sitting in the doctor’s office with Jack and watching more Cat in the Hat episodes than I can count.
As I thought of Caleb throughout the day, I found myself often with tears streaming down my face. At one point in the morning Jack came over, put his arms up for me to hold him, then he patted my back. He saw my sadness and he was comforting me.
After a too-short-nap-from-coughing and a few more Cat in the Hats, I decided we’d drive out to the cemetery to visit Caleb’s grave and maybe Jack would nap in the car. He didn’t. I devised a headrest iPad holder from headbands so Jack could watch a show on the drive (it didn’t cross my mind until we were on the road that the headbands might not be “safe”… so far so good). At the cemetery I told Jack I was going to leave him in the car for a minute (it’s a small cemetery, folks. I’d be about 15 steps away from the car). But Jack said no and wanted to come with me.
I’ve told Jack here and there about Caleb but I never know how much he really understands. So I took this moment to explain: Mommy had a baby before you but he died and he lives in heaven. Jack was nodding and responding “oh, yeah, baby.” Mommy is sad because I wish Caleb was here too. Wouldn’t it be fun to have a brother to play with? “No, no, no” while shaking his head. Haha! If you could see Jack saying “no” which sounds more like “mo”, you’d appreciate the cuteness. The boy is smart. He knows having an older brother means he wouldn’t have all of Mommy & Daddy’s attention.
Despite the messages from so many friends, there was a loneliness I felt today. I’ve talked about it before… a loneliness that reminds me someone is missing. A loneliness that reminds me that Jesus is the only One who can give me peace and comfort. No matter the circumstances we are each walking through, only in Jesus can we find what we need.
“Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5
I can’t count how many times I wanted to lay my sleeping bag next to Caleb’s grave and stay by his side. I know he’s not really there. I know he’s in heaven – no doubt in my mind. But since I can’t camp out in heaven, I guess this is the best I can do.
Caleb’s heart stopped beating just moments before he was born. He passed from the womb straight to heaven. I’m glad he didn’t have to suffer on this earth. Still we held Caleb and took pictures with him.
The day Jeff and I left the hospital and had to walk away from our little baby was one of the hardest days of my life. That switch from being pregnant to being a mom is immediate and automatic. I didn’t have to think about it. I just knew. Moms don’t leave their babies.
How do you say goodbye when you just said hello?
Caleb’s funeral was another difficult day. Laying him in the grave and then walking away… It just doesn’t feel right. It is so unnatural for a mother to leave her child. I guess that’s why I always picture myself camping out next to his grave.
So how do you say goodbye? I don’t think you do… I think you say hello to heaven. Hello to Jesus and please hold me close and mend my broken heart every day until I get to see my Caleb again.
I never showed much emotion throughout my life. Probably only a few close friends ever saw me cry.
Then one day my world turned upside down.
Monday February 24 will mark three years since our first son Caleb was born. He was born prematurely, halfway through my pregnancy. Although I knew people who had lost infants or miscarried, I never expected to be in their shoes.
Nothing can prepare you for such heartbreak.
It was as if a switch flipped and the tears started flowing. It didn’t matter where I was or who was around me. I cried in the grocery store seeing a mom and her children. I cried at Bible study when I passed a kid’s bag that said “Caleb.” I cried when there was a reason and also when there seemed no reason at all.
This week, as I anticipate Caleb’s third birthday, I’ve been crying. But the days are so busy I end up not crying until I lay in bed, when I should be sleeping. And then I’m tired during the day because I didn’t sleep much at night.
It wasn’t until I finally told Jeff, and then my Bible study group about crying at night, that I was finally able to sleep. I’ve found peace when speaking about my feelings. Just breaking the silence has made a difference.
Caleb Chun – Feb 24, 2011
I’m not afraid of crying anymore. In fact I’m more afraid of the tears coming to an end. Sometimes it seems that if I stop crying then Caleb’s life will have stopped mattering. But I know that could never be. You never stop crying for your children. You never stop wanting the world to know about them.
The tears are less frequent after almost three years. But nothing could ever make Caleb’s little life insignificant. He changed my world, my faith, my life forever. And I am so thankful.
I was at the grocery store on Friday shopping with Jack and already the cashier was saying “Happy Mother’s Day.” While I appreciated their comments, I wondered if I should say it back to her. She didn’t have any children with her, obviously, so how could I know if she’s a mom. Really the awkwardness of it just reminded me of how this special day can be challenging for so many. While it is great to set aside a day to celebrate the wonderful mothers in our lives, maybe you can take a minute to remember and pray for those who’s day is sad.
Children whose mothers have recently died
Mothers who have lost children through miscarriage, stillbirth, or early infant loss
Women who long to be mothers but struggle with infertility, or aren’t married, or don’t have the opportunity to become a mom
Women who are like mothers – physically, spiritually, emotionally mothering others
I read a letter online recently also bringing attention to churches about recognizing moms in church. Its a great letter so you should check it out.
Last year while I was pregnant with Jack I wrote about being a “Mom.” I know it resonated with a few friends so I thought instead of rewriting something really similar I would just repost it below.
Mothers Day is challenging for me. People see me pregnant now and say “Maybe this will be your first Mothers Day!” as if delivering the baby before then will ensure that I am a mom this Mothers Day. I don’t understand why we say life begins at conception and consider the thing inside me to be a baby, but don’t consider pregnant women mothers.
Furthermore, last year was my first Mothers Day. It was about two months after I gave birth to Caleb and proceeded to lay him in the grave. Just because my two children aren’t in my arms doesn’t mean I’m not a mom, or any less of a mom than someone else.
But what are you supposed to say to me: “Happy Mothers Day?” It’s kind of happy. I’m certainly excited about this new little one and getting to meet him face to face soon. I’m happy that I had Caleb, even though it was a short time. I’m happy to celebrate my wonderful mom and mother-in-law, my grandmother-in-law, my sisters who are moms, and a host of other great mom examples.
But for me Mothers Day is lonely. It’s a reminder that Caleb isn’t here. He can’t ever be replaced with another child. I imagine part of me will always feel like this on Mothers Day.Someone is missing. When people acknowledge me on Mothers Day, it’s a reminder of this. Yet when people don’t acknowledge me, it makes me feel like Caleb has been forgotten.
I feel like I’m a “mom,” always having to qualify my role… “Is this your first child?” Kind of…. When they ask all the moms to stand up at church, do I stand? What questions will I have to answer then? If I don’t stand, is it like I’m ignoring Caleb?
I don’t write this so that you’ll acknowledge me in some way on Mothers Day. It’s really not about me. It’s really about a Mom who doesn’t want her children to be overlooked. I’m sure there are other “moms” in your life: women who have struggled with infertility, women who have miscarried, women who never had the opportunity to give birth to their own children. Maybe you’ll just take a minute to think about what makes someone a Mom. As you celebrate this year, be sensitive to the “moms” whose children aren’t in their arms but are forever in their hearts.
For the Moms, the “moms,” and all others, may this Mother’s Day be a day of celebrating the wonderful mothers in your life, but more importantly celebrating the God who loves us and is our example of how to love others.
“Rejoice in the Lord always, I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your graciousness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Don’t worry about anything, but in everything, through prayer and petition with thanksgiving; let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses every thought, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:4-7
If you have ever tried to meet up with me for lunch, you would know the title of this post doesn’t describe me. I am often late… at least now I can blame Jack, right?
In the early days of our marriage, Jeff would yell to me “We’re leaving in five minutes for church!” Which was approximately five minutes after I woke up. Thankfully I’ve had lots of practice getting ready in a short amount of time (basically because I’ve done this my whole life). Then I’d get downstairs, Jeff would be standing at the back door, and I’d proceed to fill a water bottle, and/or make a chai, and grab a granola bar. Jeff still doesn’t understand why I always have at least one beverage with me. What can I say? I like to stay hydrated. And, I’d like to point out, that he often steals a sip from my water bottle.
While “never early, never late” doesn’t describe me, although I’m getting better, it does describe God. A lesson I learned most tangibly after having Caleb.
“All the days ordained for me were written in Your book before even one of them came to be.” Psalm 139:16
All of Caleb’s days – 19 weeks 3 days – were planned by God before Caleb was even conceived. It’s easy in our human nature to say Caleb was born too soon and died too soon. No matter how old our loved ones are, we would be likely to say they died too soon. Before our hearts were ready to say goodbye.
Knowing that Caleb’s days had been planned by God has always comforted me. There’s nothing I could have done to prolong his life. His premature birth wasn’t a surprise to God. It was His plan.
Your child, teenager, mother, grandpa didn’t die too soon. They had lived every day God has given them. Although we can question and wonder why God would allow children to die, we know that heaven is way better than earth. Our hearts may hurt and long for them, but they are experiencing more joy than we can imagine.
I wonder how many days God has planned for me. And for you. Every day really is a gift from Him. May you find peace, comfort, and joy knowing that the God who created you has planned your days and loves you more than you can imagine.
Debbie Chun 