Showing Up

A few weeks ago marked the annual “worst week” for us, which is the week 7 year ago that started with such joy, and ended with such heartbreak.

7 years ago, a little boy was turning 4 and celebrating with people who loved him, with cake and swimming and toys. The world was perfect that afternoon. One of his favorite gifts was a big green dinosaur that moved and roared, from his Uncle Austin. He was excited most of all to be going on a trip away from mom and dad for the first time, heading to the beach with his beloved Nina.

The trip was cut short, the beach had to wait, as he and his Nina rushed back to help find Austin.

This year, that little boy turned 11 and he celebrated with people who loved him, with cake and swimming and electronics, and a carbon copy 4 year old brother. The world was almost perfect for an afternoon. He slid down roller coaster type water slides, posted photos on his new Instagram account from  his new phone, and stuffed his face with pizza. He was excited about his baseball trip the next weekend, ready to hit the clay.

But before that trip, he helped welcome his Nina back, as she came to help find Austin.

So much the same.

7 years ago, friends and family rallied beside us, determined to help find him. Now, in all honesty, most of those who knew Austin don’t show up anymore. But more people than we ever could have asked for, that never knew Austin, do show up. They showed up in large groups, from all over the Southeast (and a few even further).

And the same story was told over and over. They showed up, because my mom shows up. She showed up and sat with them on the side of the interstate while their son was pulled from the water. She showed up and wouldn’t go home when planned, because they needed her. She showed up and handed out tough love, pushing searchers hard. She showed up and was cut and bruised and swelling and kept going.

There is so much to be said for showing up.

This group stood together, on the side of a busy road and hugged and cried and loved. They showed up. For my mom and for Austin. For Rosemary and her family. For Mark and Bryan and their families. For Josh and his family. For John and his family. For the others represented there that night.


And then they searched.

For 2 days, in 100 heat index weather, in long pants and long sleeves and boots, with short breaks for water and snacks.

Including my mom.


And we reached the end of this part of the journey. Austin wasn’t brought home. And that creates more questions than answers. It felt like our story of the search for Austin was coming to an end. But instead, it was the end of what we know to do for now.

I don’t know what’s next. Before I even thought about it, we needed to go enjoy some family time and be reminded of all the joy there still is. We cheered on Drew in baseball. We swam in freezing springs. We listened to bullfrogs and crickets and horses. We reconnected with friends and twirled sparklers on a beach in the dark.

We celebrated summer like we didn’t get to 7 years ago.

We won’t ever stop searching. We won’t ever stop yearning for answers. We won’t ever stop aching with miss.

But we’ll keep showing up. For me, that mostly means showing up for my kids. Because they deserve summers full of all the things my brother and I enjoyed.

And I’ll keep hearing his laugh, knowing that we haven’t lost all of him.



What’s keeping you from showing up in areas you maybe should? For hurting friends, for fast growing kids, for yourself.

Showing up can look like many different things. It can look like a hug, a text, a card. It can look like a freshly mowed yard, a plate of cookies or an afternoon entirely dedicated to them.

Something is coming to mind- somewhere you need to show up.

Show up. Celebrate. Laugh. You won’t get today back.




One Scary Night

I do not enjoy scary things and never have.  We could delve into my psyche to figure out if it was indeed the severe burns and weeks in a burn unit with great pain that caused my fear of doctors which could have caused a fear of other related things… or if it was worsened by a near disaster when a man attempted to hold up my family as an older child… or maybe it was the woods around our house that always felt creepy with the unknown.

Truthfully, I don’t think it was any of those things, I think I just am not someone who likes the dark, the creepy, or anything in a white coat.  Though I’m sure some of those things had impact along the way.  But I do love Halloween, as a time not to be scared but to transform into something fun, when you can greet neighbors and eat candy, and be someone other than your ordinary.  As a friend said, “We celebrate candy and fun!”

While I’ve never really understood some people’s fascination with gore and fear, I understand it even less now than ever.  Do they not know that there is real terror in the world on a daily basis and while they can they should focus on the good?  Do they have so little trouble of their own that they want to imagine the worst?  Or maybe being scared simply reminds them that what they face is not as terrifying as what could be.

But for us and so many families with a missing loved one, we have enough fear.  We’ve faced them down and proven brave enough to look for answers no matter what they may be.  We have enough gore, with possible scenarios for some that are worse than any movie they’ve seen.  We have enough suspense, never knowing what a day may hold with news we’ve been waiting for over years.

So we’ll celebrate the fun.