March Against Child Abuse Tulsa, OK April 22

Why will I March Against Child Abuse? It’s really easy to say we love children. It’s really simple to say we don’t want children to get hurt. No one is shocked that good people don’t think those that can’t protect themselves should be protected.


It’s also easy to lump “children” into a picture we can find on Google Images or the masses we see filing out of a school at 3 o’clock. Sadly child abuse isn’t something that just happens to “those children.” The ones who are short, a little dirty, adorable in their own right, but don’t really have a face or a place in our hearts. It’s not just a newspaper story that we shake our head at and say, “oh it’s such a shame,” or, “bless her little heart.” Abuse is real. It happens to real children with real heartbeats, real tears, real fingers and toes, and real hope for the future if we give them one.

I have loved a child who was abused. I have loved him so fully that he changed my heart and mind completely. It is still hard for me to talk about him out loud. The pain threatens to swallow me whole every time I open the lid to the container I keep it in. Jace came to us from the hospital where he lived until he was six months old. My sister was his nurse there, and she and I shared a house together. The state determined he couldn’t live with his mom, so we decided to give him a home and a family. Jace was sick. He was born too soon and had too many problems. They said he would likely die. The first night he came home I held him in my arms begging him to stay alive while my sister called the doctor trying to figure out why he wouldn’t breathe. He couldn’t eat through his mouth; he breathed through an oxygen tube; and was on a dozen medications.

Jace was a fighter though. It makes me so much more ashamed that I failed to keep him safe after he fought so hard. Jace spent over two years with us growing into the happiest, cutest, smartest, most perfect creature that ever lived. He wasn’t the picture you see in the papers of abused children. He was cherished and cared for. He was spoiled and adored. Jace was popular with everyone. He was clever and funny and everyone who met him loved him. He truly was a light.

Evil has never been able to stand the light, and in 2010, evil entered our lives. My sister wanted a normal family. She wanted a dad for Jace. She wanted to be loved. She was naïve and trusting and blind. When she started dating him, I didn’t like it. He seemed crass and trashy and ignorant. I found he had protective orders filed against him in the past. He wasn’t educated, but he wasn’t stupid. He had an answer for everything. A reason, an excuse, a believable story. We think people are good, we think people tell the truth, we think people mean well. He wasn’t good, he didn’t tell the truth, and he didn’t mean well.

On June 13, 2010 he was left alone with Jace while my sister went to work over night at the hospital. We will never know what happened that night. I imagine Jace wouldn’t go to sleep and kept crying and getting up. He beat him, threw him, and shook him so hard that the doctor compared the damage to his brain like a high impact car crash. Jace finally went to sleep that night and never woke up again.

At the trial the prosecutor asked me what I wish I would have done differently. I wish I would have done whatever it took to keep Jace safe. I tried, but I should have tried harder. I should have fought, I should have called, I should have laid down in front of the door and said, “YOU WILL NOT COME IN HERE!” I should have done more for him. Now he’s dead and I can’t fight for him, but I can fight for the other kids. The children I know and the children I don’t know. I can do whatever it takes to keep them safe. I can look in the eyes of the children I meet and say, “I will not stand back while someone hurts you.” I will give you a voice because you don’t have one. I will find the dark people in the world and invite them into the light. If they refuse, I will fight to keep them far away from our babies.

These kids who are being hurt, they aren’t just a news story. They aren’t just some dirty little boy whose mom lets play outside after dark. They are people. They are human beings. They are Jace. They matter to someone. They matter to me. The problem is they don’t know they are being abused. They don’t know they can’t trust the people they love the most. They don’t know they are in danger.

This is why I will March Against Child Abuse. I won’t stand back and ignore what’s happening. If helping a child takes up my time, my energy, and my money – it’s worth it. I will shout from the rooftops, “Children are precious and should not be hurt!” I will pray. I will cry. I will annoy people. I will make a fool of myself if I have to, because children are being killed, beaten, and raped. This is why I will March. Jace deserved better.


For more information about this event visit:

www.facebook.com/MillionMarchAgainstChildAbuseTulsa

Leslie's Victim Impact Statement

Here was Leslie's statement at he sentencing.  It was very powerful. 

Cody,
I have been waiting a year and 10 months for this moment. I don't even know where to begin. I could try to think of something profound and meaningful to say, but when I look at your face and hear your name I feel nothing nothing but anger and rage. I know I have to forgive you, but I am not there yet and I don't know when or if that day will come. For almost two years now I have put on a mask. I appear strong, I appear to be holding it together, I appear to be healing. Truth is, I am terrified of taking off that mask and facing myself in the mirror, facing the grief, facing the reality, facing the guilt. The reality and the guilt of knowing it was ME who let you in my home. Its was ME who trusted you. It was ME who let you completely take over our lives. It was ME who let you change me into someone I can't imagine being now. It was ME who believed all your lies. It was ME who didn't run for the hills the minute I learned you had a protective order against you no matter how old or how believable your explanation was. It was ME who believed you over my own son when he tried to tell me you shook him but he was 2 years old and didn't know how to explain himself. It was ME who left you alone with my son that night. In June 2007 when I took care of Jace for the first time and he was so sick that nothing I could do would make him breathe better and I just begged him to live and not die, I never thought I would be his mother 3 years later at his bedside in an ICU and once again be begging him not to die. I never thought I would be facing a world without him. I never thought I would be bargaining with God to take my life and spare his. I never thought I would be begging God to just let Jace wake up. He HAS to wake up. No matter how neurologically impaired or handicapped he would be I promised him I would make him better like I did before. I still have dreams about Jace. That he is alive, but hurt in some way and I can't fix him no matter how hard I try. These dreams are hard, but I cherish them, because for those few minutes he is still with me and it feels so real. Then I have to wake up and face the reality. The reality that my child is dead. And he is not just dead. He was brutally murdered. Murdered by a man who claimed to love him as his own. Murdered by a coward who won't man up and take responsibility for his actions. Murdered by a man who won't admit he took another life. Murdered by a man who will continue to lie until the day he dies and never give us an ounce of closure. How dare you. How dare you prey on women with small children who you know are physically and emotionally weak and you can control. How dare you manipulate every one in your life no matter who you hurt as long as Cody gets his way. How dare you continue to lie to your family and manipulate them into believing every word that comes out of your mouth just like you did to me. How dare you take from this earth the only thing that ever mattered to me. The only person that loved me unconditionally, gave me purpose, made me feel alive and gave me something to live for when I felt hopeless. How dare you take from this earth the spark that ignited life into every person in my family, who changed us, brought us together, made us laugh, made us smile even when we didn't want to, made us proud. How dare you take from this earth the miracle that was Jace Burgess. The 1.5 pound being that fought so immeasurably hard to beat all the odds when no one thought he would make it. Day after day he proved us wrong. He was a testament to what the power of love and determination can accomplish. My parents were born to be grandparents. How dare you take away my mothers joy and light. How dare you take away my fathers will to fight the cancer that took his life. How dare you took from my sister the little boy she helped raise, loved like her own, taught to be silly and shine the light of Jesus to all around him. But most importantly how dare you hurt an innocent child who can't defend himself. And not just one child but two. You looked me in the eyes over and over and fed me lies, acted like the perfect parent, knowing behind closed doors when no one else was watching you were hurting Jace. The only thing that matters to you is Cody. Have you stopped for one minute to think about how your actions affect the lives of others? And not just affect us but change us forever? Have you not once stopped to think about what you took from this world? As we sat in the St. Francis ER waiting room on June 13, 2010 in the middle of the night, before we even knew the extent of the injuries, before we knew what happened and before anyone was being blamed you cried in my arms saying you prayed so long for a son and a family and now it was being taken away from you. All you cared about was Cody, what was being taken from you. Not the fact that a little boy was laying in a coma, dying by your hands. You took a miracle from this world that proved he had so much potential and would do great things. He touched everyone around him. He had a glow surrounding him that was infectious. But he was no match for you. He was a fighter, but he couldn't fight the force being thrown against him of Cody Sartin. The hard truth is I know in my heart you will never take responsibility for your actions. You will never be an adult and take responsibility for murdering a child. Despite all the evidence and truth glaring at you in the face, despite a jury finding you unanimously guilty, you will never admit you killed my son. People think a Life sentence brings my family closure. Your life sentence means nothing. Because I have a life sentence without the joy of my life. The only thing that will start to bring me closure is you taking responsibility for your actions and murdering my child. That is what I will pray for. Instead of me lashing out in anger towards you or your family like you and your family have done to mine I will pray for them to see the truth. The hardest part is knowing it was my poor decsions and judgement that let you into my life, let you control me, let you near my son. I will live with the unbearable guilt of what I did and didn't do for the rest of my life. But I refuse to let it destroy me. It may cripple me, but when I fall I will get right back up and keep walking. I will continue to fight because Jace can't. I will be his voice. I will take the mistakes that I have learned from and armed with the education I now have and I will fight for children who don't have a voice and I will fight for women like me. I will do what it takes to not let this happen again. I am living proof that people can make horrible mistakes, ask for forgiveness, receive forgiveness even when it isn't deserved and live a blessed life. Despite my mistakes I have been blessed with a wonderful, humble, God-fearing, hard working husband and a precious son who has reminded me who I am and the power of love. Jace has a little brother he will never get to meet, but I will make sure my son knows all about his big brother Jace. I was not able to sit and listen in the trial and it is probably best I didn't, but someone who was in the courtroom the entire time summarized my thoughts perfectly, "No description of anger could describe the rage, no emotion could describe the sadness, and no sickness could diagnose the disgust." There will be no more fake sickness attacks, no more attempts at a mistrial, no more postponements from an unprepared attorney, no more excuses. You have been found guilty and will spend the rest of your life in prison. A sentence I believe is too easy on you for what you really deserve. But I take solace in knowing you will never have the opportunity to hurt another child, never be able to manipulate and control another woman and I don't ever want to speak your name again. I want to celebrate Jace's precious, perfect little life. Celebrate his accomplishments. Celebrate his impact. I don't want to focus on how he died. I want to remember him and cherish the memories of his life. And from this day forward that is exactly what I will do.

Victim Impact Statements

Today was the sentencing in which we got to read victim statements.   At the last minute the defense objected to me and mom reading our statements, and so the judge asked us to just summarize them.  That was pretty frustrating for me, because I was not at all prepared to "summarize."  Who knows what I actually said, but here is what I planned to say:

God tells me that I have to forgive you.  I don’t know what that kind of forgiveness looks like.  I know how to forgive someone who honks at me while I’m driving.  I know how to forgive people who are having a bad day and take it out on me.  I even know how to forgive the man who shot me as a teenager.  He didn’t know me.  I didn’t feel like it was personal.  I don’t know what it means to forgive someone who did something so personal to me.  Does that mean I have to be willing to shake your hand or visit you in prison? Does it mean I have to stop being angry? 

A part of me wishes that we could have helped you.  A part of me wishes that my family could have been Christ to you and taught you about what real love and a real family looks like.  I wish we could have broken through the layers of hurt and lies and abuse that have ruined you.  But part of me knows you were too far gone.  You made choices a long time ago that took you down this path. 

I have never loved anyone like I loved Jace.  I have never been loved by anyone like I was loved by Jace.  He was light and salt in the middle of a difficult life.  No one has ever brought me more joy, and I am grateful for every day I spent with him.  He made all of our lives better because we knew him, even yours.  He was willing to love you even though you were incapable of truly loving him back.  No matter how many times you hurt him he was willing to forgive you.  He was able to look past your flaws and love you.  In return you murdered him.  You murdered him.  You murdered him.  Listen to those words and let them sink in.  Stop lying to yourself.  You murdered him.  You saying you didn’t do it doesn’t make that any truer than you telling me you worked for a rich uncle, went to Paris, and almost finished college. 

I said once that you had sentenced all of us to a life sentence of unhappiness, but that isn’t true.  You don’t deserve that kind of control over my life.  I refuse to stop living because of what you did.  I will love even more fiercely, pray more fervently, laugh more hysterically, give more unselfishly and work more diligently to help others from having to suffer pain in their lives.  I will be a better person because I knew Jace, and I will not let hatred take away what I have left.  I will be happy.  I will be happier than I have ever been and when I cry and hurt and miss Jace, I will let myself feel that pain, but then I will remember this promise, and I will not let you ruin me. 

I will also forgive you.  I will forgive you again every time I start to hate you.  I choose to forgive you because Jesus forgave me.  I choose to forgive you because Jace forgave you time after time.  This doesn’t mean that I want you to leave prison and come over for Christmas Dinner, but this means that I pray that you face the truth about yourself, your past, your depravity, and what you have done.  I pray that that truth will set you free in some sense.  Not free from incarceration, but free from the evil that has taken hold of you.  I pray that you find some sort of peace and find a way to turn from that evil and do good with your life.  I forgive you.   

 I will try and post here what my mom and sister had to say at the sentencing.  My sister was AWESOME!  There were also letters written from his previous victims that I will try and get a copy of it to post here too if I can. 

The Guilty and the Not Guilty

Our family is thankful to the prosecutors, detectives, and jury for giving Jace the justice he deserved.  There are so many things we could say, and Thank You can never be enough. 

http://www.ktul.com/story/17015416/tulsa-county-man-found-guilty-of-first-degree-murder


I have tried to be very careful all along not to say anything about Cody Sartin on here or facebook.  I did want to inadvertently give the defense any ammunition or say anything "wrong."  I think that some things now deserve to be said publicly, and I think I will probably use this blog to say them in the near future, but there is someone else that deserves my attention more.

I have gone through every emotion toward my sister during the last two years. I have been mad at her, sad for her, blamed her, forgiven her, but every minute I have loved her.

She has had to listen to criticism from people who do not know the whole story.  Even today there are comments on news stories that say she should be held accountable too.  She was naive.  She made mistakes.  She didn't listen to her smarter older sister, but here is the difference between her and the man who was just found guilty. 

She admits to every mistake she made.  She accepts responsibility.  She feels remorse.


While Jace was dying in the hospital, she begged God to let her trade places with her son.  Meanwhile, Cody Sartin went to our house and stole our TV.

I could tell you a lot about the ways she was lied to and manipulated, but I don't have the energy this minute. I think a lot of "smart" people including myself could have found themselves in this situation. She was also a victim. 

I have never been more proud of my sister than when she brought Jace home to live with us and took care of him.  She saved his life.  I am proud of her now too.  For the way she has handled herself in the midst of a waking nightmare.  She handled herself with grace and strength and as a picture of the power of God to restore, heal, and make beauty from ashes. 

Life will probably always be hard for us, but hard is not synonymous with bad.  I know Leslie will continue to make Jace and the rest of her family proud. 

Justice for Jace

The trial for the man who killed Jace starts Monday February 13th in Judge Kellough's court.  Every day that Jace was on this earth was a gift, and that gift was stolen from us.  There is no reason, no explaination, nothing that will ever make that better. 

If you are interested in attending the trial, testimony will probably start on Wednesday.  Please pray for my family, because this is very difficult to face.  Every minute of it is just a reminder of the hole in our lives and the pain that will never fully go away.  The things we will have to think about and hear and face will rip that hole open again, and I'm afraid of how much that is going to hurt.  Please also pray for justice and for the truth to be heard.  Pray that good wins. 

I miss you sweet boy.  Aunt Stacey loves you. 

Dear Jace

It's been a year since I told you you couldn't spend the night with me.  I will regret that for the rest of my life.  If only I said yes, you would still be alive.  He wouldn't have hurt you.  My heart wouldn't be broken.  I know wanting you to be alive is selfish.  You're with Jesus.  I miss you every day, but most days I'm too scared to open the box of pain I carry around with me.  I know if I do, it might eat me alive.  I still can't watch the videos of you.  It hurts too much.  I'm so sorry you died.  I know it isn't my fault, but still I'm sorry.  I'm sorry I didn't protect you.  I'm sorry I let that bad man in my house.

You taught me so much the short time I had you.  You taught me how much better life is when I am not living just for my self.  You taught me how valuable and vulnerable the life of a child is.  You taught me I am stronger than I thought.  You taught me how strong love is.  It never mattered to me if you were "special needs" or sick forever or whatever.  You were perfect.  You taught me I was loveable.  Every time you were happy to see me and told me over and over "I love you, Stacey." You let me see how someone could discover God with a child's faith.  You believed God loved you and God would make you and papa and anybody "better" just because I told you so.  My favorite sounds in the world were your laugh and your singing voice.

My small finite brain cannot understand heaven.  I love Jesus so much, but I can't wrap my brain around this mystery.  I guess I have trouble trusting what people tell me about it, when God tells me so little.  I can't fathom something beyond time and space and that maybe you can see me or something, but then I think I don't really want you to watch me when I'm going to the bathroom or watching the Real Housewives on TV.   I trust that you're there and you're happy, and that you get to be around my dad and maybe even Andrea's mom, but really I just don't get it.  I just have to wait to find out I guess.


I just hope you know how much you changed me.  How much I love you.  How I promise to try and make your life worth it.  I promise I will try and stop other children from hurting.  I will try and be a better person because I knew you and not a worse person because you died.  I know someday the pain of missing you will grow less stinging and the joy of knowing you will grow more comforting.  I hope I'm not letting you down by still hurting so much.



I love you too much. 

Walk On

Grief is like a constant companion.  It's always with you.  Sometimes I get to take a break and laugh and joke around and be obnoxious, but the ache is still there.  There are different kinds of grief.  The stabbing shocking tearing loss of having a child ripped from your life.  Then there is the dull sweet ache of looking at your dad's chair and knowing he'll never sit there again.  The ache that lays there as I look at the snow and know my dad won't come shovel me out.  That he wasn't much of a conversationalist but that he would do things like that to shout I love you at us. 

I think one day I'll hide it more, even from myself, but I also know it will never completely leave me.  It's kind of like when you are a kid and realize your heroes are flawed or that Santa isn't real.  You're never the same again.  When Andrea's mom died, I told her I felt like I was losing part of my best friend too, because the sadness would change who she was.  I had no idea I'd be missing myself so soon after.  I'll never be that person.  It's like I have this secret knowledge that not everyone knows and that I didn't want to learn.  I know now that the worst thing imaginable could happen any second.  No Bible no optimism no army can protect me from pain. 

I'm supposed to feel better because of heaven.  I try to.  I believe in it - I do. The problem is I believe in it, but I don't want to see Jace and my dad someday on a golden street or in a house with many rooms when I'm 83, because women in my family never seem to die.  I want them now.  I want to hear them laugh and sing.  I don't know much about heaven, but I know it will never be like it was.  Like what I miss so much.  I suppose it will be better, but I can't picture it.  I can't imagine it.  I don't know how to fathom a place without time or bathrooms. 

I'm not alone.  Plenty of other people are in this club.  They understand what it means to be sad.  To be in this shadow.  Sometimes we reach out to each other, but a million words or hugs don't change who I am now.  I know I'm not alone, it just feels so much like I am. 

In the end there's only one thing to do.  Keep walking. 

The Best Gift

I don't know why, but when my mom woke me up with a phone call at 2:59 am on June 13, and told me Jace was in the hospital unconcious and they were paging a neurosurgeon, the first thing I prayed when I hung up, was, "Thank you God for the gift you have given us in Jace.  Every moment with him has truly been a beautiful gift."  I'm not saying I knew he was going to die or anything weird like that, I just felt overwhelming thankfulness for every hug and every kiss and every second of listening to his laughter. 

This Christmas is not very merry.  We can't buy presents for our baby.  My mom put a tiny Christmas tree on his grave instead.  In the end I am still thankful for every kiss and every hug and every second of laughter.  I could say a lot of depressing stuff about how life sucks, because its really not very enjoyable anymore.  Instead I will tell you that God exists in the valleys and on the mountaintops and on the mountaintops that we foolishly mistake for valleys. I will tell you that loving God does not mean living a life free of pain.  I will tell you that all children should be cherished.  I will tell you that the most important things in our lives are not things at all.  They are people. 

God didn't send a bigger house or a new car to the earth to save us.  He sent us his son.  Someone we could know, touch, hear, and feel to earth to save us.  Our relationships need to be treasured and nurtured and not taken for granted.   During this difficult time in my life there have been many people who have reached out to me and comforted me and helped me.  I am grateful to each of you for what you have done.  There are a few outside of my family who have gone the second mile for me, and I want to thank them. 

Andrea Keown has prayed for me.  During the summer, when the last place I wanted to be was home, she flew me to Seattle and let me stay with her for 10 days.  I was not the happiest or funnest person to be around, but she let me cry and be depressed all I needed to, and bought me a fan, because it was hot outside, and took me to Canada instead of her mom's house.  She baked for me and ate Canadian brussel sprouts with me and bought me a lot of coffee. 

Valerie Lahmeyer is one person outside my family who can come close to understanding my pain.  She has made sacrifices for children, and right after losing her own child, flew to Tulsa to be with me during Jace's funeral.  She stuck by my side that whole week.  She has recently become my roommate, and has put up with my irrational tantrums at her putting up Christmas decorations and random crying spells anytime the conversation turns to a reminder of Jace. 

Erin Roberts is not good at talking about my pain and loss.  She gets really awkward when I get sad and gets kind of therapisty with me.  She gets this "oh no" look in her eyes, but that's ok - she deals with it and lets me talk anyway.  In the meantime, she has spent about a bazillion hours over the last two months helping me make quilts out of Jace's clothes for my family.  Seriously a bazillion hours.  Let me tell you, its not exactly fun making stuff out of a dead kid's pajamas.  It's depressing.  I don't know anyone else who would do this for me, and Erin doesn't even love Jesus (yet). 

Andrea Duntley has just been the best best friend of all best friends in the history of best friends.  She has talked, laughed, cried, listened, let my wipe my snot on her shoulder, made her kids hug and kiss me, rolled her eyes at me less, and has shown me by example how to still love God even when I don't understand him. 


Who are your gifts? 

Looking at the Moon

I am sorry I stopped blogging.  Sometimes it hurts too much to think.  To try and sum up something so precious like Jace's life in a few words seems cruel.  It is hard right now to think about even the happy memories, because each happy memory compounds the depth of the loss - the great chasm in the world.  The place where Jace belongs but no longer is.  I can't think about the the happy memories and be happy to have them yet, they all just scream at me that Jace isn't here.

Some times I feel loved and supported by friends and strangers.  Like they are holding me up when I don't have strength to stand.  Other times I feel completely and utterly alone.  Like no one knows and no one cares and no one wants to be bothered with my sorrow.  People say dumb and insensitive things.  That doesn't bother me that much, because I know there is nothing that is right to say.  Other people stop saying anything at all.  They act like it never happened or expect me to act normal.  I still feel like nothing will will ever be normal again.  Not the morning, not the night, not my family, not my heart, not even God.  Nothing in the world will ever be normal.  A small part of me thinks this isn't true.  I hope it isn't true, but the sting of the loss seems to hurt more with time so far and not less.

Friends and family feel distant.  It is a hard thing to really carry another's burden, and hopefully this will teach me how to do that for others.

Right now I'm still too sad to save the world or fight the darkness.  The best I can do is not to let it swallow me whole.  The time will come though.  The weight of this pain will lessen and we will move forward.

Today we had court.  The preliminary hearing.  The Doctor and the Detective testified and gave the judge enough evidence for him to say there will be a murder trial.  Murder.  I shouldn't be at a murder trial.  This should be on Dateline or in a novel.

When we first got Jace we worried he might die.  If only his lungs or his health problems would have grown worse and he would have died that way - it would have been bitter sweet.  We would have been sad, but we could take solace in the fact that we made his days on earth sweeter for the short time he was here.  But for him to be murdered takes away all reason and most of the peace.  He was stolen from us.  A million different things could have happened differently and he would still be here.  But wishing him back won't work, and no matter how hard I pray to wake up and find him alive, I think that may be a mountain God won't move.

I know this is depressing.  I didn't mean to write all that.  I just feel so bad.  Really really bad.  I just miss him every minute.  I can't wake up without crying and I can't go to bed without crying.  During the day I have to try and forget about him or I won't make it through work.

I cry every single night lately when I take the dog for a walk.  The moon has been out and visible in the sky.  Jace loved to look for the moon.

One day early in the morning I was driving him to grandma's house when he said from the backseat, "Look, Stacey, a ball."

He was pointing out the car window to the moon still hanging in the early morning sky.  I explained to him the moon comes out when the sun goes to sleep and then the moon goes night night while the sun is awake.  The rest of the car ride he was looking for and pointing at the moon.  From then on almost every night we went outside and looked at the moon, or for the  moon.  Sometimes it was hiding.  I hope at night when I see the moon now, he is looking at it too and remembering me.  I'll never see it and not remember him.

I love you too much, Jace.

Jace's Life: Age 1

On Jace’s 1^st birthday we had cupcakes with just the family at my mom and dad’s house.  My cousin Andrew and I thought Jace would love some silly string, but he really really didn't.  I’m not sure if it was my mom’s singing or the silly string, but he was terrified and cried and cried.  Poor little guy. 

Jace’s big birthday party the next weekend was ridiculous.  We had enough food for a few hundred people and planned about  a million activities.  For some reason – to celebrate the birthday of a little boy on oxygen who couldn’t even walk, we were convinced we absolutely needed to have a Jupiter Jump.  Jace mainly hung out on the patio because of his oxygen, but all the other kids had lots of fun.  He got WAY too many toys, and we all yelled at my sister for planning an outdoor birthday party when it was so hot outside.  

I feel so sad that so much time of his short life is such blur to me.  I thought there would be billions more moments to cherish.  I never imagined there would be so few.  Now trying to write this, I hate that I can't think of more.  I should have held each second closer.  

Many many times a day and night, his oxygen alarm would go off, meaning he wasn’t getting enough air.  Most of the time it meant the tube was out of his nose, and we just had to put it back in the right spot.  One day, I think around Christmas, we noticed it was not in his nose and the alarm wasn’t going off.  WHAT!?!  We waited and waited and waited and for most of the day he was off the oxygen.  It took a little more time, but soon the home health people rolled away all the cumbersome medical equipment.  I think it was even sometime before he turned two, that he stopped needing breathing treatments.  He went from “worst lung’s the doctor’s ever seen” to not even having symptoms of asthma.  

Sometime during that year he started crawling.  Jace did everything late, but his physical therapists insisted he needed to crawl, so he did.  We were in so much trouble.  The cute little baby we used to hold and rock and put on a blanket on the floor, was now a one man demolition crew.  He had about a million toys, but he wasn’t interested in them.  He was more interested in playing the remote, the laptop, the laptop cord, the candles, the books on the shelf, our shoes, our purses, our keys, the dvd player, the coasters, the pots and pans - anything but toys.  If I thought it was tiring taking care of baby Jace, it was exhausting taking care of crawling Jace.  

With Jace’s development we were so worried.  Things seemed like they were taking forever.  We worried he would never sit up, never crawl, never talk, never walk.  Now looking back, I can barely remember those worries.  He overcame every obstacle.  

On March 20^th, 2008, Jace was adopted and became Jace Alexander Burgess.  His adoption party was miserable.  It was at a park, and it was FREEZING outside.  Leslie is a terrible party planner.  All our family and best friends braved the harsh conditions to celebrate the addition to our family.  There was an adoption board my mom made showing a picture of Jace when he was born (he was about the size of a thermometer) compared to Jace at 21 months.  Such a miracle.  

I wish I could give you some idea of what Jace did for our family.  Having him made every hard thing we had ever been through okay.  Leslie and I had long been on the road to spinsterhood.  (I mean not intentionally - anyone who wants to date me feel free to call.)  Anyway, my mother not very subtly often let us know that all hr friends had grandchildren and that she felt left out.  Jace fixed that for her.  He was apple of my parents' eyes.  I don’t think any grandchild has been more worshiped in the history of the universe.  I'm not kidding when I tell you our lives have been difficult.  I could list all our troubles for you, and I promise you would feel more sorry for us.  We’ve had more than our fair share.  But Jace was the perfect gift.  He was the reward for not giving up.  He was happiness and life and peace for us all.  It didn’t matter anymore if things were hard, because at the end of the day he would wrap his arms around you and kiss you and make you all better.

 

We used to joke about what would happen if Leslie, Jace, and I still lived together when he to school.  The poor kid would get strange looks from the teachers if he told them he had two moms.  One day I had friends over for dinner.  I was sitting on the couch with Jace, and all of the sudden he looked at me and said “da da.”  That one got a lot of laughs. 

Jace’s laugh was probably the most precious part about this age.  You can hear it in this video from the day he was adopted.

If you are wondering how my family is doing, the answer is not great.  Things aren’t getting easier.  I'm pretty sure they are getting harder.  It seems we are living a nightmare.  Every day I feel farther away from him, and he is the only thing I want in the world.  Sometimes I don’t want the pain to stop, because in some ways I feel like the pain keeps me connected to him.  The worst times are the down times.  The sit at home with nothing occupying me times.  The times I can think.  Another hard time for me is at church during worship.  I imagine Jace in heaven singing at the same time, which is beautiful, but I so desperately want him here.  Sometimes I wish I could be there.  I don’t understand how life can go on without him.  It will.  It has to. All we can do is trust God for more hope and more peace and more life. 

Jace's Life: Birth - 12 months

The other day, my sister pointed out that people are so focused on Jace’s death, that I don’t want them to forget how he lived.  How he was a miracle.  How he changed us.  She’s right.  Some of you don’t know much about him.  You deserve to know him.  I’m going to try and write 3-4 posts about his life.  What a short biography.  He deserved more.  This is only my version – we could probably have the four gospels of Jace written by me, my sister, my mom, and my dad.  That was not meant in a heretical way :)   

Birth-12 months

The first time I saw Jace was in the PICU.  Sadly, the last time I saw Jace was also in the PICU.  That first day in December of 07, I walked into his room, looked at him, then looked into my sister’s hopeful and expecting eyes and said, “He’s kind of ugly.”

Jace had been in the hospital since being born at 25 weeks.  My sister and I had talked about fostering, but could never agree on it at the same time.  Finally, she wanted to bring home Jace. S he told me that if we didn’t take him he was going to a nursing home for kids, and that he would only get worse there.  I kind of didn’t want to, because I was scared, but I said ok.  When he came home at just over six months old, he was on about 14 medications, had to eat through a feeding tube every few hours, have breathing treatments every four hours, was on oxygen, and we had to use this scary loud sucking machine to get any boogers out of his nose.  It seemed like he went to at least one appointment every day.  

I guess his mom had problems with addictions.  Am I glad she struggled?  No.  Am I grateful she gave us the opportunity to know her son?  Yes.  She created a miracle.  She must have a lot of goodness inside of her to have made something so wonderful.

The first night we had Jace at home, I worried about what we had gotten ourselves into.  I have never been so great with babies.  I’m kind of scared of breaking them.  Kids – I’m magical with kids, but babies freak me out.  My mom and sister brought him in with all his machines and tubes.  He seemed so fragile.  Almost like it would be difficult to really hold him with all the cords and things attached to him. 

When it was time for bed that night, his alarm kept going off.  Leslie, my sister, kept turning up his oxygen that needed to be in the high 90’s, but it kept going down.  88, 85, 82, 79.  She started to freak out.  She was on the phone with the Doctor.  He told her to go to the pharmacy and get something.  So she left me home, alone, holding a sick baby who was barely breathing.  I started sobbing and thought he would die right there in my arms. 

Christmas was a week later, and he was the best gift ever. 

It seems like I can barely even remember those early days.  I’m pretty sure they were hard.  There were times I thought we couldn’t handle it.  My sister was working with sick babies at work and then coming home and doing the same thing.  I was working a stressful job, and then every weekend, while my sister worked, I was home alone with Jace, and it exhausted me.  When my sister went to work during the week, she would get up at 5 a.m. and lug all his machines and oxygen and equipment across town to our parent’s house for them to babysit.  I wanted so badly for him to get better.  When he first came home, he would only kind of stare up at the ceiling.  We had to block his eyes with our hands to get him to look down at us.  He was so used to being in the hospital, he didn’t know how to be part of a family.

I was scared his feeding button would fall out, or that he’d stop breathing and the alarm wouldn’t wake me up.  I was worried he would have problems his entire life.  Doctors sent my sister to get Jace a million tests.  They said his lungs were the worst they’d ever seen.  One time when the oxygen monitor broke, we had to stay up all night watching him to make sure he was still breathing.  They sent him for scans to see if his brain was messed up.  They sent us for tests to see if his heart was messed up.  They sent us for tests to see if – I don’t know, but he went to the doctor a lot. 

It was hard, and it was scary.  But the most amazing things started happening.  My sister became a new person.  She lived to make him better.  And he got better.   I don’t want to give away the end of the story, but if you could have heard what the Doctors told us Jace would be like, compared to what he became, you would be so proud of her and of Jace.  My mom was so happy to be a grandma.  I was ticked off that my sister was officially the favorite again for providing them with a grandson.  My dad, who doesn’t get excited about anything, was excited to see Jace everyday when he got home from work.  The times were hard, but there were more smiles and more kisses and more good feelings than ever before. 

I remember the physical therapists told us not to let Jace stand up – that he had to crawl first and he was working on the wrong muscles, but he loved to bounce on his legs while we held him.  It was so cute and so hard not to let him.   I remember the first time we put him in an exer-saucer.  He looked at us with a look that said, “Is this some sort of joke?”  I remember the nights that I would rock him to sleep, because I was the baby whisperer.  I remember fighting with Leslie over who had to do the 4 a.m. breathing treatment and sometimes pretending like I forgot she was working the next day so I wouldn’t have to do it. 

I remember the times he wouldn’t stop crying, so we would sing to him, and it would seem like it was working, but then it didn’t.  I remember dreading having to go anywhere, because it was so much work to take the oxygen and monitor and everything places.  I remember how we didn’t leave the house with him for about six months except to go to doctor’s appointments, because if he got any kind of sick, it could be deadly for him.  I remember when my sister was discussing adoption, and I thought – if she doesn’t adopt him – I will, because there is no way we can lose him now.

I regret that I can’t remember more.

When I do therapy with kids who have been through a major trauma, I always tell them – in some ways this incident will define who you are.  You have a choice now.  You can take what happened to you and let it make you a better person or you can let it make you a worse person.  You have to pick which path you are going to go down.  I have always been kind of proud of myself for picking the path of being a better person after I got shot.  I’m pretty sure Jace was wise beyond his years, because he had a traumatic birth.  It could have ruined him, but he picked the better path.  He let it make him a better person.  He was growing into someone amazing and kind and funny.  According to the doctors he shouldn’t have had a chance to be any of those things.  I’m so grateful that they were wrong. 

Oh, and by age 1, he’d grown completely out of his ugly stage – PTL. 

Freedom

Last week my family sat in the conference room at the Victim-Witness Center in the DA’s office.  We talked about what we could expect over the next year.  He told us it would be a long process.  Done in a year if we are lucky.  The Victim Advocate reminded us that even then it won’t make everything better.  We already knew that.  No matter what happens – Jace will never be back, and that is the only thing we want. 

The ADA talked about life sentences and how sometimes it can be hard for a jury to come to grips with someone young spending the rest of his or her life in prison.  I wanted to stand on the table and scream, “WHAT ABOUT US!  WE’VE BEEN SENTENCED TO A LIFE OF UNHAPPINESS!”  We are locked in the prison of our pain. 

There have been moments over the last six weeks that I felt death would be a blessing.  That I would only be able to spend the rest of my breathing moments waiting for my time to leave this world and this pain behind.  There have been times I felt envious of my dad.  He has a 60% chance of getting to see Jace in the next year if the cancer wins. I don’t want to have to feel like this.  No one should have to feel like this.  This is no way to live. 

The thing is, I haven’t been found guilty.  My life doesn’t have to end, even though it feels like it’s over.  If I continue to let pain bind me forever, it will be because I refuse to use the key I’m holding to unlock the chains.  So I’m not going to sit around waiting to die.  I’m going to do things that make me happy.  I’m not going to spend time being hurt by people I don’t need or getting angry about things that won’t matter next week.  I’m not going to hide for fear of what others might think.  I won’t feel guilty because I’m alive or because I can smile when the sun hits my face, because in living each day – I glorify God. 

I will write.  I will sing off key and laugh too loud.  I will tell jokes that everyone will have to stop and think about before deciding they are funny.  I will play with children.  I will give money and time away to  people who don’t deserve it.  I will go to church.  I will eat pizza and feel guilty for not feeling guilty.  I will cuss because I want to be funny but never because I’m angry.  I will make everyone I just ate dinner with put their hands in the middle of a circle outside the restaurant and shout, “Justin Beiber!” on three.  I will drink Starbucks.  I will spend time with people who make me feel good.  I will travel.  I will cry at the Wailing Wall and swim in the ocean.  I will wish I hadn’t when I can’t get all the sand out of that crevice sand should never go in.  I will get lost in good books and long for someone to kiss me goodnight. 

And I will cry.

I will mourn.

I will let the sadness have its moment each day.

 I will miss him and dream about him when I sleep.

I will get choked up when my best friend’s children get on the phone and say, “Hi, Aunt Stacey.”

These are things I must do.  This is what is right.  This is how I will be set free. 

Huge Love

I started this blog to tell you what was happening with Jace. I want to continue it to inspire and make people feel good and make everyone understand Jesus better. There isn’t much I can tell now about the case and updates about my day to day would pretty much say – I get up. I cry. I work. I cry. I sit around waiting to go to bed. I cry. I sleep. I want to write, but how do I try to be inspirational when I just feel like crap? So I’ll go on with this blog writing about whatever comes to mind from day to day as I go through this. I’ll talk about God and loss and faith and sorrow and gratitude. A recent conversation with Tim Roberts had me thinking about God and Christianity.

So yes – I feel like my life is crap right now. Did you know it is possible to love Jesus and feel like crap? You can love him and have a bad day. You can still love him and act like a jerk sometimes. You can love him and not say hallelujah at the end of every sentence. Sometimes Christianity seems like a product that is marketed to people that haven’t bought into it yet. People are told – get happy, healthy, and wealthy – just by coming to church! Other times it is marketed as a set of rules: don’tdrink, don’t have sex, don’t use major cuss words (minor ones are ok sometimes depending on the context and as long as it’s not on Sunday). If you do use a major cuss word on Sunday, you will probably burn for all eternity.

I’m convinced that being a Christian isn’t so much about what I do or don’t do. It’s not about what I get out of the deal – not about my return on investment. It’s not about me keeping or breaking the rules. It’s about the fact that God loves me. He loves me. He loves me. He loves me. I used to roll my eyes at my mom before, when she would tell me I couldn’t understand how much she loved me. She loved me so much that when I made bad choices, it made her crazy and willing to do anything to get me back to being safe. I think through my relationship with Jace, I started to understand what a parent’s love is like. I wasn’t his birth parent. I didn’t even adopt him. But I was there singing him to sleep, getting him up and dressed in the mornings, and alongside my sister , mom, and dad, trying to teach him to be good. I understand going a little crazy wanting to protect him, because I loved him so much, and now that he’s gone, I understand the immense pain of losing a child. I know maybe my feelings aren’t even as huge as if he had really been my son, but I can’t imagine them being any huger. I know for sure my feelings aren’t as huge as the feelings God has for us.

In helping to raise Jace, I really wanted him to share. I wanted him to say please and thank you. I wanted him to be a good friend and to be kind to people. I wanted him to do these things because I knew it would make his life better. I knew his life would be easier and more fulfilling if he followed the guidelines we set out for him. That is why God wants us to be “good.” Not because he is ready and excited to pounce on us and punish us if we are “bad” but because our lives will be better if we stay within his guidelines. Messing up – treating someone badly, gossiping, punching someone in the face, lying, cheating, stealing, killing - doesn’t mean he loves us less. Do you love your kids less when they break your rules?

It’s not about rules. It’s not about being one way or not being another way. It’s about the fact that he loves us. Kids ultimately don’t like to disappoint their parents. I remember crying more because my mom was unhappy with me than because I was getting spanked. That is why I want to be “good.” Not because I am afraid of going to hell. Not because I will be struck by lightning if I sin. Not even because the Bible says I should. I want to be “good,” because I know Jesus loves me, and I know it hurts him when I don’t do what he asks of me. He loves me so much, that I don’t want to disappoint him. I want to help other people, be kind, and do good things, because I think it makes him proud of me.

That’s what it means when people use the cheesy saying, “It’s all about a personal relationship.” I am thankful that loving Jace helped me understand God’s love for me more. Loving Jace has made me a better person. My sister said,“I want to live a life that makes God and Jace proud.” That’s right. I don’t want to take the gifts that God and Jace gave me for granted. I want to take the huge love that I learned from Jace and make my life worthy of his love and the love that God gave me through his son.

It's not Fair

It’s not fair that God answers other people’s prayers and not mine. It’s not fair that when other people face losses, they have husbands and kids to hug them. It’s not fair that more bad things happen to me than anyone else. It’s not fair that Jace was the only good thing in our lives, and he was stolen from us. It’s not fair that we rescued him only for him to be murdered later. It’s not fair that I have to cry while everyone else is happy. It’s not fair that my world has ended, and everyone else’s is still turning. It’s not fair that some people can eat a lot and be skinny. It’s not fair that everything works out for some people and nothing works out for me. It’s not fair that my dad has cancer. It’s not fair that my immune system is attacking itself. It’s not fair that the day before Jace died I thought life was finally looking up. It’s not fair that I work with parents who don’t take good care of their children but those kids will all get to grow up. It’s not fair that my mom doesn’t get to be a grandma. It’s not fair that I had to be Jace’s aunt and not his mom. It’s not fair that when my friends talk about their kids I don’t have one to talk about. It’s not fair that when I do talk about Jace, everyone acts awkward. It’s not fair that the person who loved me more than anyone else is dead. It’s not fair that the person I loved more than anyone else is dead. It’s not fair that no one ever listens to me. It’s not fair that I have to hurt so much. It’s not fair that I have to question God. It’s not fair that people I thought cared about me act like nothing happened. It’s not fair that Jesus gets to hold Jace, and I don’t. It’s not fair that some people’s lives seem easy. It’s not fair that people whose lives seem easy think they have it bad. It’s not fair that I have to rely on myself. It’s not fair that I don’t have more vacation time. It’s not fair. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.

End Tantrum.

People always say to do what your heart tells you. That’s not possible for me right now. My heart is broken. It’s not working right. My heart feels like no one cares, like I’m all alone, like the sun will never come out, like God has abandoned me. So I’m living by what I know – not what I feel. I know I am loved. I know nothing can separate me from the love of God. I know it will not always hurt this much. I know good will win.

Big Picture

Sorry for the lapse in updating. My sister and I went with my parents to St. Louis for the long weekend. Getting away from it all with four really sad and grouchy people wasn’t exactly a vacation, but no one got hurt. Tuesday morning my dad had an appointment at the Siteman Cancer Center at Barnes Jewish Hospital to discuss a stem cell transplant. (Not the controversial stem cells – they get these from grownups). My dad has Myelodysplastic syndrome which is a blood and bone marrow cancer. This transplant is the only way to “cure” him, but it in itself is very risky.

I’m sure you can imagine my family’s stress at the possibility of two huge losses in one year. Right now it’s really hard to pray and believe for miracles, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t going to. The thing about God is that he knows the big picture. You know how when you were in middle school that girl named ____ made your life a living hell? You thought it couldn’t possibly be any worse. You thought the world was over. You thought the pain would never end. Now looking back at middle school, I bet it is barely a blip on your radar.

Now I can smile as I remember the time I fell walking home from the bus stop, and the boy I liked asked me if I had a nice trip. I didn’t think it was funny then. But the horrors of middle school came and went, and now in the big picture of my life – those things that happened weren’t really that big of a deal. I bet that’s what our present lives are like to God. It’s almost scary to think about, but compared to eternity our earthly lives are barely going to be a blip on the radar. Right now everything hurts, but one day when I’m happy and free and skinny in heaven – all this pain isn’t going to matter so much anymore. So even if everything in this world falls apart – it’s going to get better. It won’t last forever. It’s temporary.

Still – I want to see the goodness of God in the land of the living. (That’s in the Bible)

Every night before Jace went to bed he would pray. He would do the usual thanking God for all the people he could think of – Thank you for Mommy, thank you for Stacey, thank you for Gama, thank you for Papa, thank you for Anoo, thank for Manda, thank you for aunt Nancy, thank you for Jack (the dog), thank you for Camon, thank you for Dani, thank you for Tommy, thank you for Domi – ique, thank you for the gas man (the plummer), thank you for Miss Sandy, thank you for Miss Pat, Thank you for Donnie, thank you for Ani – a, thank you for Regan, thank for Cracker (Kiefer sounded just like cracker – I don’t know???), thank you for Mickey Mouse, thank you for my ears, thank you for my monster truck, thank you for my dino. At the end of his very long thanks, he would always end his prayer – “And please make Papa all better.”

My mom told me that she is pretty sure Jace is telling Jesus to make Papa all better now. I can picture him tugging on Jesus’ pants (I think he probably wears pants now – it’s the 21st century) and telling him, “Hey! Make Papa all better, RIGHT NOW!” He was going through a bossy stage right before he died.

I still miss him every second. I wonder if life will ever be ok again. I still wake up every morning hoping this isn’t real. The pain is so sharp and so acute that I tend to start balling at random moments – like right now when I’m sitting in Starbucks typing this. For those close to us – I know it’s hard and awkward, but thank you for your hugs and your time and your help. It can’t be fun to be around people who periodically break down and cry and talk about weird things and tell you stories about a dead kid, but we need it. Thanks for reading this. It helps me to write it.

Go Ahead and Try to Stop Me

Notes:  There are few things I want to tell you about Jace and about what my family is going through.  Some things I can say now, some things will have to wait until later. 

Cody Sartin plead not guilty to first degree murder, and the preliminary hearing has been set for August 10^th.

A few times in my life I have felt like I stood in the presence of greatness.  The governor came and had lunch with me at school when I was 16.  I touched Oral Robert’s head once when I sat behind him in the Mabee Center (just to say I did it). I met the mom of Rachel Scott who stood up for Jesus during the Columbine shootings.  I got the thumb print autograph of one of the men who killed the missionary Jim Elliot and later became a believer in God.  I went to a New Kids on the Block Concert when I was 12.  All of those were trumped today by an 8 year old girl. 

I am friends with the grandma and mom of the Broken Arrow Angel, a little girl who was kidnapped and sexually abused three years ago.  This family has shown amazing strength and dignity in the midst of this nightmare, and I have respected their faith and perseverance.  Today, I was in the court room with them when the man who did this was sentenced to six life sentences plus 40 something yearsfor what he did to this little girl.  Everyone was nervous when the little girl got up to read her statement to the judge and the perpetrator.  She didn’t look nervous at all.  She looked powerful.  I wish I could accurately describe the way the girl stood up, read her statement, and with the last sentence, looked directly at the man who hurt her and said with stern determination, “I'm going to be what God wants me to be and nothing's stopping me, especially you!”

It was so freaking awesome.  I wanted to stand up and clap, but no one else did, so I cried instead.  This family  didn’t let what happened destroy them.  They fought back.  They are overcoming.  They are letting good come from evil.  What you do when you’re handed something awful in life is your choice.  Whether someone in your family is killed, you get diagnosed with cancer, you lose your job, or your baby wakes you up at 4 am every morning, you decide what you do next. 

When your family member gets murdered, you can run to God or away from him.  I’m running to him.

When your family member gets murdered, you can you can let your anger consume you, or you can let it fuel you.  My anger will result in lives being saved. 

When your family member gets murdered, you can stop living too , or you can live your life so that it honors his memory.  I plan to make Jace shine. 

When your family member gets murdered, you can hate, or you can forgive.  I’m going to find a way to forgive, because if I don’t it will hurt me more than it will hurt him.  I won’t let him hurt me again.

(You can insert your own bad thing for ‘when your family member gets murdered.’)

I feel like I have had more than my fair share of bad things happen to me in my life.  I’ll give you the list later.  But today I want to look Satan in the eye and say,

I'm going to be what God wants me to be

and nothing's stopping me, especially you!

I’m glad I have such wonderful role models in this little girl’s family.  I’m humbled by their strength and courage.  I’ll post her entire statement below.  She deserves to be heard and honored.  The family reads this blog.  Tell them you’re proud of them too. 

Statement:

You need to respect your punishment,

that was a bad thing you did.

I don't want you hurting anybody else

that's why you should be in jail forever,

so accept it.

God made you but you are not like God's person,

you are the devil's person.

You should have been on God's side

and this would never have happened.

Back then I was the little angel fish

and you were the great white shark.

Now I'm the great white shark

and you're the little clown fish.

I'm going to forget all about you

and go on with my life how I want it to be

without any bad person stopping me.

I was only five years old, now I'm eight.

I'm going to be what God wants me to be

and nothing's stopping me, especially you!

I Didn't Understand. Now I Do.

I’ve been counseling children and families for a little over four years now.  I’ve talked to a lot of people who have lost loved ones, and many whose losses were due to violent crimes.  It’s the nature of the areas I work in.  Right now I feel like I need to go back and apologize to every child and every mom who I gave “grief” counseling to.  I feel like I need to get down on my knees and beg forgiveness from my best friend who lost both her parents.  I had no idea how overwhelming and all consuming the pain was.  I didn’t understand what sad felt like until now.  

I keep trying to put it out of my mind.  I take little vacations from the heart ache where I can concentrate on work or talking to someone about something else.  But under the surface there is a constant dull ache.  A pain somewhere below my heart and above my stomach that hasn’t gone away yet.  I don’t know if it will.  I’m afraid it won’t.  Then when I’m driving or when I first wake up in the morning, it hits me like a punch in the gut.  My life will never be the same.  I will never hold him again or kiss his owies or sing songs with him.  How can that be possible?  How can this really have happened?  

I’m trying to handle this right.  I’m trying to make good out of the bad, but every second right now is just really really hard.  I have counseled other people , “You just know this is going to be a hard time, and you have to let yourself be sad.  It is the right time to be sad.  But the hard time won’t last forever.  It will get better.”  I really hope I didn’t lie. 

To sum it up:  THIS ALL  SUCKS. 

On the other hand: God is still good.  

Ouch

Should I feel better now that someone has been arrested for killing Jace? I don't. I don't want the most important person in the world to me to have been murdered. I don't want him to be dead. I don't want my family talked about by people who don't know. I don't want anything, but to hear Jace's voice and for him to make his funny face right before he kisses me.

I want Jace to tell me "Get me a cookie right now." And then I want to correct him and then hear him say, "Get me a cookie right now, please." I want to drive in my car and hear him from the back seat say, "Stacey, I love you, Stacey." Nothing feels better. Nothing feels ok. I don't know how anything will ever feel good again.

We have appreciated so much all the support. We need it now. Don't believe everything you read. Pray for us. Pray for Leslie. There is a long road ahead. I'll try and post more tomorrow or the next day.

I Love Him Too Much

This is what I said at Jace's funeral today.  It did not feel like a celebration of his life to me, but I think it was supposed to.  It felt sad, and right now I feel angry.

This was the balloon send off at the funeral.  

I Love Him Too Much

I read in some of the literature that the hospital gave us that the amount of grief you feel for a person is in direct proportion to the amount of delight that person brought you.  I did not find that sentence very encouraging for my grieving process.  

Donnie, Andrea, and I always argue about how much our left arms are worth.  Andrea rolls her eyes and says she would not cut hers off for any amount of money.  Donnie and I think she’s dumb, and say we would gladly part with ours for an even million.  Today I can tell you that I would gladly give both my arms just to feel Jace hug my neck one more time.

A hug from Jace was more valuable to me than anything else I have ever received.  MY favorite place on earth was sitting in a char holding him while he rested his head on my shoulder.   Every second I spent with him was truly a gift.  My heart swelled with pride every time he would walk up to someone else and blow his boogers on their pants.  I laughed so hard at myself for teaching him to call the cardboard cut out that Val sent me of Edward Cullen, Daddy.  Jace was going to be living proof that all the parenting books worked.  He rarely had tantrums, you could distract him out of most bad behavior, and just say the words time out, and he would run up  and hug you.  He took care of all of us as much as we took care of him.  I miss hearing him scream Stacey! Stacey! Stacey! When I come in the door.  I miss calling him on the phone and him telling me to come play with him or let’s go a Stacey schoo.  Jace loved to sing.  He was a terrible dancer  - it looked more like a weird tribal stomp than anything else, but we loved to watch it. 

Jace introduced me to a new and wonderful side of my parents.  They were his grandparents and they excelled at that job.  He loved them like crazy, and I am proud of what they did for him.  I am proud of what my sister did for Jace and of what he did for her.  I have never seen her be more alive than those first days when she was determined to do everything she could to get Jace healthy. 

Everyone who met Jace loved him.  He was generous with his love.   Jace combined the phrases I love you too and I love you so much into “I love you too much.”  And he did love us too much.  I am proud that he loved me so much and I am proud that I got the chance to love him mosty mosty.   Which was how he always won the I love you more argument. 

Lately I’d been looking forward to the days when I would get to show Jace the mountains and the ocean and Disney world.  I was consulting with other therapists on how we could desensitize him from him fear of things that move and make noise.  He would run screaming from remote control cars, so I was worried A Small World would be his worst nightmare.  Those moments will never happen.  They  were stolen from me, but I will get something even better.   I wanted to show Jace all those things but now he will get to show me around heaven instead. 

When we were in the hospital we prayed and you prayed that God would heal Jace.  I just knew that if he was ok – it would be such a miracle.  That people would believe.  That he would help so many people with his life.  But you know what – God did heal his body.  God did give him eternal life.  And he has already helped people.  There have been stories of people hugging their kids more, of looking at life differently, of reaching out to Jesus. 

There isn’t a reason this happened.  God did not take Jace from us.  God did not ignore our cries for help.  The devil is a liar.  The devil is the enemy.  Satan took Jace from us.  It is time to fight back.  This didn’t happen to us SO we could help others, but we will help others because this happened.  Good will come from it.  I’m not going to ask you for money today.  I promise I will do that later.  Today I’m asking you to fight with us.  To fight the injustice in a world where children are hurt.  To answer their cries for help before they are laying in a hospital bed.  To be a voice for the kids that can’t be heard.  I can’t do it by myself.  I have been working for years to reach a child here and a family there.  I have helped some, but this is not enough.  Oklahoma is among the worst in the nation for violence against children.   We have to do more.  Good people have to stand up and say this has to change.  Then after they say it they have to put their words into actions.  Please don’t forget Jace.  Please help us make his life count for something.  Don’t forget about him next week when there is laundry to be done or sports to watch on TV.  Keep Jace in your heart.  Jace touched all our lives with his smile and his joy – don’t let that stop.  Help him reach more.  Keep standing with us and fighting the darkness on his behalf.  Start by giving your entire hearts to loving  your own children, protecting them, and teaching them that they are children of God.  You have the opportunities we don’t now – don’t take that for granted. 

We all want Justice for Jace, but most of all he deserves to be honored by our lives.  He gave us so many gifts, but I think if there was one last thing he could give you it would be, and I quote his words – “Jesus and God.”  One of the videos we watched over and over together talked about “The Hope of Easter” 

This hope means Jace isn’t dead.  It means he’s alive, dancing off beat and singing as loud as he can.  Jace understood the simplicity of child like faith – he understood that he was “A child of God” and that “Jesus makes us all better.”  If this is not something you have figured out on your own yet – it is time to start believing with us.  For years I have been telling my family that I am always right.  They are finally starting to believe me.  Let me remind you – I am always right –And I’m right when I tell you that God is alive.  Jesus died because he loves you too much and more than you need anything else – you need his love in your life.  I stand before you as living proof that following Jesus does not make life easy – but Jace was right,   Jesus makes it better.