From Riches to Rags, and the Glory I Found There

As the last few days of 2021 come to a close I find myself in an almost constant state of contemplation over the happenings of such a tumultuous year. And I am amazed. At the start of 2021 we were gifted with funds to pursue fertility treatments. And, when those funds ran out, our community surrounded us and raised even more funds to support our dream of having another child. I cannot begin to tell you how incredible it is to see family, friends, and strangers donate to give us the opportunity to have a child. We were covered in prayers, encouragement, and hope by hundreds of people. Our hearts were humbled and our spirits were so very bright. We spent 8 years, after the death of our son, waiting for such an opportunity, and suddenly it was upon us. The glory of God was so very evident in how He laid out such magnificent works.  And I was amazed. When June started, John and I had already experienced a few vacations, some of our favorite holidays, and so much laughter and joy. Hope ...

I looked at the front of my house today, devoid of the Christmas lights that have adorned every home I've occupied for the past 13 years. And I thought "it's different this year". How different this season looks as widow. How different this season seems to a sibling who has lost a brother. How different this season feels for the ones who no longer have their uncle. How different this season appears to parents whose son is gone. I look at this Christmas season and I can see all the differences. All the lost moments. All the broken traditions. All the memories. All the grief. This year is different. So incredibly different. And we have had to face those differences at every turn this season. With every box of decorations that we unpacked. With every tradition that we've faced. With every string of lights that went unhung. With every problem that went unsolved.  We are all different this year. We are all changed. We all feel strange about this new season we are facin...

"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus." 1 Thessalonians 5:18 As we approach Thanksgiving I often find myself meditating on what being in a season of thankfulness truly means.  It is often easy to think of all the good things in your life. Easy to count your blessings instead of sheep. Easy to see the goodness of God in all of the wonderful aspects of your life. But what about the hard things? The dark things? The loneliness. the longing, the logos of suffering we seem to wear on our hearts. Are we thinking about these things on Thanksgiving morning? Do they make it onto your handmade Turkey every year? In my 33 years of life, I have experienced extreme loneliness. I have felt the deep longing. I have been branded with the logos of suffering. It is as permanent as the ink in my skin that shapes the letters of my son's name on my wrist. The son who died before he could take his first breath.  I want to look past these things. I wa...

Did you know that I have to drive by John's accident site?  I see it every day... Sometimes up to six times a day. A wooden cross, my old motorcycle helmet, my nephew's plaid shirt, a little scarecrow, a sunflower. It's all there, placed beside the spot where he died.  I made my brother drive me by the accident site a little while after John died. I did not want to live in anxiety over the place where part of my life ended. I knew if I didn't go by it sooner, rather than later, that I might never be able to do it. So he, my sister, and mother, drove me by. I braced my soul for the pain and I wiped the tears as they fell. He drove quickly by the place where John's body was broken beyond survival and I thought "how can this be real?". A few weeks later I decided to that I needed to go and finally face it alone. I needed to see it...to recognize it for all that it is...and all that it isn't. I felt the grooves in the pavement made by John's motorcycle...

  Here I am, about to play a round of Top Golf with two of my cousins. What do you see when you look at this picture?  What if I told you that this picture was taken 30 minutes after the man who invited me to play Top Golf with him stood me up and tried to ghost me? What do you see in the picture now? Any differences? Here is what I see: I am happy, I am joyful, and I am confident.  Mainly because I believe those things are influenced so much by my own choices. I chose to be happy, even though the first man to show any real interest in me since I became single totally bombed in regards to being a general good human. I chose to find the joy, even though it, for sure, sucks. I don't think anyone likes being stood up, even if this was more of a "let's-start-out-as-friends-date". I chose to be confident, because I refuse to let a man make me feel less about myself. When I sent this guy the infamous "I'm over this" text message, I was very clear about where I...

  "Moses’ arms soon became so tired he could no longer hold them up. So Aaron and Hur found a stone for him to sit on. Then they stood on each side of Moses, holding up his hands. So his hands held steady until sunset." -Exodus 17:12 Sometimes we are asked to carry something that is far too heavy for us to bear. Sometimes our grief is such a burden that we do not think we can survive under the crushing weight of it. Sometimes we are called to suffer far more than we ever thought possible.  I have been called to such things. Maybe you have too? When my husband died, my entire world shattered. Nothing looked the same anymore, nothing meant the same either. How do you survive such devastation? How do you pray when there are no words? How do you heal when there is no hope? How do you love when your heart is broken beyond recognition? But, when devastation hit, my Aarons and my  Hurs surrounded me. They picked up the piece...

And just like that. I am back into the dating scene. It's been over 14 years since I went on a first date. Boy, things have certainly changed since then.  I know what you're thinking, and you're right, it hasn't been very long since John died. You're probably wondering all sorts of things: Is it too soon? What if this is a bad choice? What if someone hurts me? What if I'm just running from my grief? How do I know if I'm ready? Who could ever replace John?  Why would I want to do this all again? How can you share your concerns with me? This is hard, why do I have to do it now? I'll do my very best to be open and honest with you about these things. Because they matter, your concern and worry matters, your love for me, and John, matters.  So thank you. Thank you for wondering the hard questions, and thank you to the people who have posed these questions to me. I welcome questions in the space, it is always better to ask than to wonder.  Is it too soon? Is t...

A couple hours after John died, I started having panic attacks. Full-blown, hyperventilating, crippling, panic attacks. Every single one of them were brought on by the same thought "I don't want to do this". I would look at whoever was next to me, widen my eyes in panic, and say "I don't want to do this" and then BAM, I could no longer breath.  I cycled through reasons I refused to accept it. He couldn't be dead, we had just talked on the phone. There had to be some mistake. I never actually saw his body at the accident site, maybe they were wrong. Maybe they confused his body with someone else's. Any minute he could walk through our front door. Any second I would feel his arms around me...hear his voice comforting me...any moment. I refused to accept it. And my body and mind paid the price over and over again. Debilitating panic and all breath stolen from my lungs.  In the 4 months since his death I have learned a few things about what I will refuse...

  It is crazy to me that we never really got a family photo. Not one where we were all alive and thriving. Every single one of our family photos represent brokenness and loss. For years John and I took Kimber's picture with us on photoshoots, always wanting to acknowledge our son, despite his absence.  Now...now it seems so strange that we aren't collectively keeping his memory alive. Now I carry the burden of two legacies all alone.  A month ago I decided that I wanted one last family photo. One last moment of honoring legacies as I continue to pick up the pieces of this broken life and walk forward.  It felt like goodbye, one last time. One last representation for the family we were...the one we aren't any longer. Thank you John.  Thank you for so many wonderful years of adventure. Thank you for choosing to love me, and for continuing to choose to love me for over 14 years. Thank you for the life of our son, for his red hair, and his handsome face. Thank you f...

Every morning I make myself a cup of coffee (why yes, I do put whipped cream on it #TreatYoSelf), gather my things, sit down at my kitchen table, and assess myself.  How am I doing? Am I processing my emotions? Is today going to be a hard day? Do I need to journal? Do I need to blog? Do I need to read? Should I text someone for extra prayer? If today is lacking, is there something I can do to change that?   Grief is a constant ebb and flow. What I need or want is consistently shifting and changing. I can't expect peace from yesterday to translate into peace for today.  So I assess, and adjust, and pray for the patience to continue both of those things because they seem to become more complicated as time goes on.  Grief holds no easy answers, as much as we might wish it too.  I find myself constantly assessing John's possessions and presence in my home. Am I ready for this picture to come down? Which ones do I want to stay up for the long-term? Am I ready for thi...

How am I? Do I hate motorcycles? Do I regret ever agreeing to let him get one? Do I wish I had made a different choice that morning? Do I want to avoid the topic? Am I broken? Is it worse than when Kimber died? Do I think I'll ever want to get married again? Who am I now?  Do you know what I appreciate? People who ask questions. I never mind them. I have always been committed to being an open book to the world around me. I believe that genuineness and grace in response to any question can only harbor more grace and understanding. Being open with the world requires you to also be open to the world's responses, be they grace-filled or awkwardly intrusive.  How could I possibly come on here day after day and share what I'm going through, asking for prayers and understanding, and then reject those who wish to invest in my life and ask questions? Its a two-way street my friends, and its always open.  Welcome to my journey, it's open, it's raw, it's inspired, and it m...

I spent over 14 years cultivating a relationship with my husband and it took less than 5 seconds to decimate it completely. If I’ve learned anything in the 12 weeks since his death, it’s that that old habits die hard. Those habits strive to live in split seconds of the day. Split seconds where your mind reacts before thinking and you’re left a little broken, having to remind yourself that those habits can no longer exist in the life you now have. I notice every time that I slip and refer to John in the present tense, instead of the past tense. I inwardly cringe every time. I hate doing it in front of strangers, it makes me feel like I’m lying to them. John isn’t here anymore, he’s only in the past.  I try catching myself before I speak the words “we” or “us”, forcing myself to acknowledge that I am no longer a part of either. There are no more “Cunninghams” or “Mr. and Mrs.” or couple activities. There is just Katharine Cunningham…neither a wife nor really a mother. Both of those i...

I could never begin to pretend to understand the wonderful highs and devastating lows the last 9 months has brought to me. To have such joy and hope and then to have it ripped away in the most traumatic way possible has been life shattering.   Writing has been the way I process through my thoughts and emotions since I was about 12 years old. So many people talk about how they need to “sit down and have a good cry” but I never feel that, I feel the need to sit down and write it all out. Writing is the pressure release when my heart has just built up so much hurt, anxiety, or trauma. Every single time I have struggled with something in the last 20 years I have gone to my journal and written everything out. I don’t often write when things are going well and I’m content in life. It’s when life is hard that I find those blank pages calling to me.  It took me 10 days to start journaling again after John died. And I really only started again because my mom told me I should write i...

This world has proven that it has the ability to deal the harshest of blows…more than once. When our son died I think I unconsciously thought that, after such devastation, God wouldn’t allow such heartbreak to happen to me again.  And then we struggled for almost 8 years to conceive again. We tried multiple avenues to adopt and were met with so many closed doors. It felt, so often, like a slap in the face. But, at the very least, a somewhat manageable one.  We had each other, and the love for and legacy of our son lived on in us. We made every effort to remember Kimber’s short life in meaningful ways. After almost 8 years, we knew the legacy we wanted for Kimber, and we knew how we could create it, and carry it on in our lives.  And then my husband died.  John died…just like Kimber. And suddenly, I was so very, very alone.  My entire family died and left me to carry on their legacies, alone.  The entirety of my heart rejected the notion of ca...