faith unfaded

I slept well at the While We’re Waiting in Hot Springs last night, my life forever bonded to the parents around me who’ve also experienced child loss.

Their stories are not mine to tell but I will forever share my own publicly, using my late daughter’s life to shine a light on other’s journey through grief no parent is ever prepared for.

A popular quote is my life motto: Your pain can be your prison or your platform.

I choose to make it all a platform.

The grounds are beautiful, winding trails beyond the fire pit and waterfall. Multiple courtyards surround the home, one even situated right outside the large meeting room, with comfy couches and knitted footstools immediately making retreatants feel at home.

The weather has been gorgeous, the food delicious. Tonight an award-winning chef will prepare a five-course meal for us, pampering us with love and affection. These weekend retreats were designed to help mend the brokenness inside.

There is no requirement or qualification to attend. There’s no expiration date on your grief. Some, like me, lost a child years ago. For others, it’s more recent. Kids like Kacey who were young, babies even. Some children had families of their own when their lives were cut short. Just as Jesus is no respector of persons, the faith-based While We’re Waiting excludes no one. Your grief is valid. Finding hope in the midst of it is vital.

A WWW retreat is about more than grief, though. It’s about celebrating life. Your child’s life mattered and within these sacred walls you get to tell their story.

We are in the midst of a two-hour break this afternoon, one designated to spend however you choose. As tempting as a nap sounds right now, the property is too beautiful to stay indoors. I fed the fish in the pond. I relaxed on one of the many dedicated bench swings dotting the property, the sunshine bathing it in light as if sent from God above with little Kacey as His sidekick. I walked the Memorial Walk, made up of pavers honoring lost children. I will purchase a paver in her memory before I leave.

I counted nearly 50 upcoming 2025 retreats throughout the country on the website, whilewerewaiting.org. The retreats are free but fill up quickly, so register early. You can also ask to be added to the waitlist for last-minute cancellations.

I’d brought a rather large memory for my “Share Your Story” time: the stop sign from Wedgewood Avenue. While Kacey had been in the hospital, my dad had promised her that he’d take her around the block to the “stop sign” just as he’d done with all the other grandkids in the little red wagon. She’d never made it home, but he hadn’t forgotten his promise. Unbeknownst to me, he’d arranged for the Kramer Funeral Home hearse to take a detour through his neighborhood on the way to the cemetery.

“I promised her I’d take her to the stop sign,” her PawPaw simply said when I’d looked at him quizzically. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house as he explained the unusual route to the others in the funeral procession when we reached the graveside.

This weekend is about remembering, healing, and rejoicing in the knowledge that we have an everlasting Savior who is here with us on earth WHILE WE’RE WAITING to be reunited with our children in Heaven.

If you or someone you know could benefit from a While We’re Waiting retreat, please forward or share.

Do not neglect to do good and to share what you have; God is pleased by sacrifices of that kind. Hebrews 13:16