May 2, 2025

“’For behold, I create new heavens and a new earth,
and the former things shall not be remembered or come into mind… No more shall be heard in it the sound of weeping and the cry of distress.

No more shall there be in it an infant who lives but a few days, or an old man who does not fill out his days, for the young man shall die a hundred years old, and the sinner a hundred years old shall be accursed. They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit…

They shall not labor in vain or bear children for calamity, for they shall be the offspring of the blessed of the LORD, and their descendants with them. Before they call I will answer; while they are yet speaking I will hear.

The wolf and the lamb shall graze together; the lion shall eat straw like the ox, and dust shall be the serpent’s food. They shall not hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain,’ says the LORD.” — Isaiah 65

This is not what it’s supposed to be. It is not good. But God will make good out of death and pain and sin and suffering. Every day is so hard, baby. You are in my mind and heart constantly, Alice April. And I never want that to change, because you are the sweetest thought I could ever conceive. To think that God knew you and loved you from all of eternity shows how wonderful and cherished you are. Too wonderful for me. But God blessed me with you anyway. How undeserving I am.

…

May 4, 2025

Today is Bereaved Mother’s Day. I can’t stop thinking of your face and your little body lying in a casket in the ground. The memory haunts me. There’s nothing worse I can imagine but having to put my little baby girl in a box in the ground. It’s so wrong. You are so precious. All of the treasure in the world buried in one spot.

I would do anything to have you back in my arms, sweet Alice. Anything. I feel such a fierce protective love over you and your precious body. It matters. Jesus will raise your little body from the grave — the very same little body I carried within mine and held and danced with and kissed. He will deliver you back to me, where you’re meant to be.

…

May 19, 2025

I pray all of this sorrow and suffering will turn into indescribable and unique and overwhelming joy once we’re together again. All suffering and separation made up for. No longing unfulfilled.

I think God loves us each intimately. I don’t understand why He created me or why He cares for me or why He wants me to live longer than you. It doesn’t seem right. I certainly don’t deserve any of His love. I am as sinful and selfish and boring and wasteful as you can get.

But to think the love I have for you, Alice, is a small picture of God’s love for me — that seems so strange. You, Alice, are so lovable. So deserving of all the love in the world. But me?

I guess God sees Jesus when He looks at me. Another strange thought. That loving gaze from God — approving and all-knowing. That’s hard to fathom. And hard not to fear — being seen by your Creator. There’s no escaping it, though. Nothing hidden. All seen and all loved. I’m used to hiding.

Anyway, Alice — don’t hide. You are loved. You are my girl.

…

May 20, 2025

When thinking about God preparing rooms for us in Heaven, I realized that I’ve already gotten a glimpse into my room. It’s the bare empty room in the Mt. Moriah Funeral Home. A big empty room with a window looking out to a tree. And you, my Alice, are the only person or thing in the room. Yet everything in the world was in that room with you. You made it everything. A door I open to see my little girl waiting for me — that’s Heaven. And I’ve glimpsed it. I’ve lived it.

But Jesus will redeem it and make it even better. My week with you, Alice, all culminated in that room. It’s a strange thing to experience — opening the physical door to your own heart. But there you were. My heart. Every day. Waiting for me.

I’d spend eternity in that room with you, Alice. And I pray I get to.

…

May 21, 2025

Today is another hard day. Everything feels so heavy. I feel as if I’m in hell on earth. Everything is so wrong. It feels like torture — being apart from my baby. The (not great) therapist yesterday kept saying, “At some point you just have to keep going.” A nice way of saying, “Move on.”

No, actually, I don’t have to do anything. I don’t have to carry on. Who told you that? If I wanted to, I could lie down and die. I could never eat or drink again. I could never get out of bed. No one is making me do anything. The problem is that I have the choice. I don’t want the choice. I want God to take my life from me — to strike me down. But He just won’t do it. He’s making me choose to live each day. To get up and keeping moving despite everything. That’s true torture.

People don’t understand the anguish of living separated from your very heart. I do believe my heart was buried with you, Alice. And it will be resurrected with you when Jesus returns.

I already hear the subtle push-back: “But Kayli, you just have to keep going.” Why? Why must I? No, I don’t. You’re lying to me. What you mean to say is, “You should keep going.”

That I would agree with. Yes, I do think God and Alice and my family want me to keep going. And I should do it to please and obey God. But all of these people with their “must’s” and
“have-to’s” don’t give me good reason at all. Just give me one good reason, please. Give me that hope and motivation.

The only good reason I can think of is God. Because He’s the one who gives and takes away life. He took my baby Alice’s life — but not mine. I don’t know why. I don’t have His permission to go yet. So I’m waiting. Aren’t we all just waiting to die? I wish Solomon was here to talk to. He’d understand what I mean.

Most people are afraid to speak so plainly about death — but it’s true. All is vanity. This was especially clear to me once Alice was gone. Nothing matters but her. Nothing but the resurrection of the dead. But Jesus Christ and Him crucified. I have no interest in anything else, so please take your “have-to’s” somewhere else.

I’m angry, Alice. Angry at our separation and those who have joy now. It’s all fleeting. This life on earth, for me and those following Jesus, is hell. Suffering is our calling. Suffer like Jesus did. Well, here I am — suffering. Does that mean I’m in the will of God?

Forgive my anger, Lord. Please have mercy on those suffering. Please come quickly.

…

May 22, 2025

The days have felt harder recently. I don’t know why. And it’s harder to sleep. I just love you so much, and it hurts to be alive without you. Although, I believe you’re also still alive with Jesus — in a much better way. I can’t wait to be alive like you. Truly alive – with no more sorrow or pain. When everything sad will come untrue.

I need to save some of the quotes about death in Hannah Coulter. Berry does an excellent job describing loss and life. I think we’ll read Jayber Crow next. I think you’ll enjoy it too. I love reading with you. I wonder what your handwriting would look like.

…

May 25, 2025

Everything beautiful either reminds me of you or pales in comparison with you. Either way, you are the standard of beauty and perfection and purity that my heart yearns for. My little girl.

This waiting is so heavy. No one seems to understand. Grief casts a haze over everything — a dark cloud relative to the joyous sun and clear skies of my Alice April Meadows. My flower girl. Allie girl.

…

May 27, 2025

Today is 2 months (8 weeks) since your birth. I can’t believe it’s already been 8 weeks. I miss you like it’s April 1st – from the first moment I saw you. Two months of knowing and loving my Alice.

Today I brought the in-ground vase with the artificial flowers from our wedding. Never in a million years did I think I’d use the flowers from my wedding to decorate my daughter’s grave — and in less than a year. It’s too much.