Ashley's Garden

When faced with the question "how will we mark our daughter's life?" we wondered what we would do. We considered giving a scholarship to her school in Ashley's memory. It was a good idea, but would only leave and impact on one person each year. Knowing Ashley, one person was not enough! She left an impression on every person she met. Not knowing what else to do, we began with a tree. We asked the school if we could plant a tree with a plaque in Ashley's memory at the school. We also wondered if maybe a bench would be appropriate. We wanted Ashley's friends to have a place to go to and remember her. We were amazed when we were granted permission to do what we wanted in a much larger space than we imagined. The tree soon turned into many trees, a flower garden, and a patio with benches! Ashley always dreamed big...and so did we!

The garden was designed and we broke ground over the summer. It wasn't long before it took shape! The raised flower bed would be completed last, as we invited Ashley's classmates and teachers from her years at Red Lion to leave a lasting mark in her garden. What a touching day it was for us. We worked hard, pouring concrete and all, but also enjoyed watching as everyone gathered together in Ashley's garden. We enjoyed talking to Ashley's friends and their families. We shared memories together. Not only did Ashley touch the lives of these people, but they touched her life! Each one of them was important to her. She loved school. She loved her friends. She loved her teachers! Ashley left impressions in each of their lives, and now they were marking theirs!


So many things about the garden are special to me. Leaving hand prints has been a tradition in our family. Since we started our greenhouse business here in Maryland, we would have our children leave their hand prints in the concrete as we poured it. There are several places around our home and farm where Ashley's prints are found.
It only made sense to include hand prints into the garden!

Ashley often dreamed of having her own "secret" garden. One year, she even took the liberty to build her own garden behind our goat barn. She carried rocks back there, stacked them up, filled the garden with dirt, and carefully chose her favorite plants from the greenhouse to plant in her garden. She proudly showed it to each of us! We desired a flower bed, that would be carefully planted with her daddy's flowers each season. What a treasure it was for her daddy and her brother to visit the garden last week and to plant the first flowers in her garden!

When I think of Ashley's "space" it is not her bedroom. Ashley's space was outside! She loved to be outside. Ashley checked the weather each morning on the computer. She wanted to see if today she could play outside! She picked flowers, chased butterflies, caught frogs, climbed trees, played sports, imaginary games, built tents.....and so much more! When I want to feel close to Ashley, I usually go outside. The garden is a place where people can be outside...to visit, to study, to wait, to teach. A class period outside was always a highlight to Ashley's school day!

The part of the garden that most represents Ashley is what it is meant to do. The garden is a gathering place. A place to sit, relax, enjoy others, and the outdoors! I will never forget the times we were "all together" as a family...it didn't matter what we were doing, just that we were together. I can still hear her say "look, Mom, we are all together!" It was right up her alley to have family gatherings, birthday parties, picnics, social events....whatever! as long as everyone was all together!
Ashley worked hard to be sure that everyone got along! She knew the interests of each person she was with and orchestrated the situation to makes each person fit in. She didn't like anyone to feel left out. She wanted everyone to get along. What a blessing it has been for us to watch people gather in Ashley's garden. She would love this.
It is a secret garden, a place to gather together, a place to visit....we dreamed big as Ashley always did....we gifted it to the school because Ashley loved to give, and it holds the hand prints of the friends who touched her life, and it will remain forever as a lasting impression of our sweet Ashley.

My Shoes

Another grieving mother friend of mine shared this poem with me. It is such a perfect description of the life I live.


I am wearing a pair of shoes. They are ugly shoes. Uncomfortable shoes. I hate my shoes. Each day I wear them, and each day I wish I had another pair. Some days my shoes hurt so bad that I do not think I can take another step..... Yet, I continue to wear them. I get funny looks wearing these shoes. They are looks of sympathy. I can tell in others eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs. They never talk about my shoes. To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable. To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them. But, once you put them on, you can never take them off. I now realize that I am not the only one who wears these shoes. There are many pairs in this world. Some women are like me and ache daily as they try to walk in them. Some have learned how to walk in them so that they don't hurt quite so much. Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt. No woman deserves to wear these shoes. Yet, because of these shoes I am a stronger woman. These shoes have given me the strength to face anything. They have made me who I am... I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

No Wonder they sing!

I am writing about the Locust again! This morning I spent several hours watching a locust emerge from it's hole in the ground, make it's way up the tree, and then wrestle itself out of it's old, mud covered shell. I stood amazed at this very small yet complex piece of God's creation. It's amazing to me that God took the time to teach the locust how to shed it's shell. While I have always taken note of the locust, this year I am drawn to them. God must be using them to teach me a very important lesson!

Today I noticed that all of the little holes in the ground around the tree are indeed the resting places of locusts! I am guessing that they are the larva that are hatching from last year. Regardless of how they got in the ground, I am intrigued by the fact that they begin in the ground, a dark hole in the dirt. They work their way out slowly, barely able to move in their mud covered shell.

I believe they must be so restless inside to the point that the pressure causes the shell to open a hole large enough to climb out of. It took several hours for the locust to slowly pull each leg, it's head, and abdomen from the shell. I watched as it would make one small move then rest for a period of time before moving again. The process was long and painful. I wanted to help it. Maybe if I would pull it out. Maybe if I would break the hole open a little bigger. I resisted the urge to help, knowing that my efforts would only hurt the end result.

The locust emerged a bright green color. It had shriveled up wings, and a soft outer shell. I imagined it must have felt so good to be free from the confines of that mud covered shell. The locust carefully stretched, taking time to gain strength along the way. The wings began to unfold. They were fully stretched, but still weak bending in half as they were unable to resist the gentle breeze. The locust climbed up the trunk of the tree slowly as it gained the strength to move on. It left the empty shell behind. Hours later, the newly hatched locust remains resting on the tree, drying it's wings, gaining strength to begin anew. Soon it will be strong enough to take flight, and to sing the music of the summer days. After watching the locust's journey, it's no wonder they sing!

God wants me to take note of this. I have taken the time to admire his work in the little places of His creation. He is making all things new. He is making me a new creation. The process is long, and painful, and often doesn't go as quickly as I would like. But, He is making me new...and I will sing.