More than a Blessing Box

It has taken me a few days to process our trip to Uvalde this last Friday.  Thanks to generous donors, we have had First Touch Blessing Boxes for the 19 families who lost their children, in the horrific school shooting, ready for quite some time.

It seemed every time we made plans to take them down there something prevented us from going.  Every time it was postponed, I would get anxious.

So many people helped make this possible and I wanted to follow through and get the Blessing Boxes into the hands of the families.  I wanted them to know, that amidst all of the noise of the media, politics, and loss, they were not alone.

Then I began to see a pattern.  We would make a plan to go, it would fall through, then we would see something on the news where that poor town and those parents were in the midst of another media storm over one issue or another.  I had to finally just turn it over to God and trust His timing was best.

Friday, September 2, 2022, we loaded those 19 boxes in the back of our car and took off for Uvalde.  I called earlier to let them know we would be coming and they told us to bring them to Administration Office.

Six hours later, we pulled into this sweet little town that had been burned to ashes by the loss of 19 children and 2 adults.  Families' lives were shattered.  Crosses, a heartbreaking reminder, stood in front of the welcome sign entering the town.

Driving down the streets with their manicured lawns, at first glance, you would never know the pain and grief the town and people are walking though.

We came to a stop sign where I happened to glance over and see the faces of all those beautiful children on the side of a building.  Smiling little people that held the hopes and dreams of the future for themselves and their families.

We pulled up to the Administration Building, I unloaded my two youngest granddaughters and Blake began to unload the boxes. I took the girls and we walked into the office.  We stood waiting for a minute while the receptionist finished up with another person.  I walked to the window and told the receptionist I was there to drop off Blessing Boxes for the families of Uvalde.  I told her I called that morning and that the lady I talked to was aware we were coming.

It was not lost on me that I was holding the hands of two of my own little people that hold hopes and dreams for their future and ours.

The receptionist said she would let someone know as she picked up the phone.  Blake began to bring in the boxes and the girls and I waited.  I could tell the receptionist seemed anxious.  I didn’t really think much of it. I know it is a totally normal response to all the trauma the people of Uvalde have been through.

All of the sudden she said “I guess you want a picture?”  It took me a minute and I said “what? A picture?”  She said “yes, most people that come in here want me to take their picture.”  I said “no thank you, I will get a picture of the boxes but I don’t want a picture of myself.”  Even then, I only wanted a picture of the boxes to show all of the ladies who had so generously donated that they had been delivered.

My heart shattered all over again.  My chest tightened and I knew my tears would not be contained for long.  I thought of my own child loss and the hell I lived through as I tried to grieve my son and deal with a senseless, selfserving, lawsuit. It added layers and layers of pain on top of my already shattered world.

I could not imagine the hell these families were walking through as they are mourning the loss of their children and their loved ones, dealing with lawsuits and on top of it all having to navigate the media and those who are there for self-seeking purposes

Three of the sweetest ladies came out to meet us and move the boxes back to the conference room.  I opened one of the boxes to show them that there was a card in each of the boxes with the name of the family on it.  When I pulled out the card, one of the ladies said “that is actually our receptionist’s neice.”  I told them I would like to take a picture of the boxes before they took them back to the conference room and asked if they would like to be in it.  They conceeded, but don’t mistake those smiles for joy.  There, buried deep in every cell of their bodies, is great grief.

I could barely see my phone to take the picture. I could no longer hold my tears.  The only words I could muster were “I am so very sorry for your loss.”  One of the ladies said to me “Thank you for your tears and sincerely caring about our loss.”

Friends if you have never lost a child, you can not fully know the impact of loss on these families and this beautiful tight knit community.  Those of us who have lost a child would never wish that on anyone.

Even if you don’t intimately know child loss you can help.  You can help by falling on your knees before God and praying on behalf of this town and these families. They start back to school today, September 6, 2022.  That must be so traumatizing for parents and children.

The only thing in those boxes that can truly even begin to bring healing to this town and those families are God’s promises written in the pages of the bibles that we sent.  The rest was just a box filled with love, made possible by people who desire to be the hands and feet of Jesus.  People who love others well and want to help let hurting families of child loss know they are not alone.

Their child, their pain, and their grief matters and so do they.

I sit in a puddle of tears today, not for my loss, but for the gain my loss has brought to others who are hurting.  For the donors and community who made it possible to share the love of Christ with another community who is deeply hurting.  This is the heart of my son Christopher.  The son, God gave me, if only for a moment, to continue to show the hope of Jesus to the world.

That is the hands and feet of Jesus friends.  That is God working all things out for good for those that love him, even in the midst of the suck.

Much love,

Chrissy