God, Gavin, And Me

08/19/2026

Sometimes the places that hold our sweetest memories are also the places where we feel the missing the most.

I have vacationed on Peaks Island, with my family since I was in high school. Gavin has been coming to this island since he was a baby. It is a place filled with so many memories of him. And this is my first time here without him.

There is something about returning to a place where you shared so much life with someone you love. The memories seem to be everywhere. Some make me smile. Some make me laugh. And some bring an ache that is hard to put into words.

Gavin is never far from my mind on any given moment, on any given day. But being here without him has made the missing feel different. I find myself remembering the things we did, the places we went, the little routines we had here, and wishing more than anything that he was here making new memories with us.

The picture below is one of my favorites of Gavin and me from his graduation. I actually had it made into a mouse pad, so I see it all the time. Since Gavin died, I have found myself looking at this picture differently, noticing little things I didn't pay as much attention to before. One of those things is the calla lily he is holding.

Calla lilies have always been one of my favorite flowers, and for some reason, seeing that beautiful flower in Gavin's hand, in this picture of the two of us, has become really special to me.

Today, I was wandering around Peaks, thinking about Gavin and remembering some of our times here. I went into one of the cafés that is very familiar to me—a place Gavin and I visited on our previous trips to the island. I put my things down at a table and there, sitting right in front of me, was a little vase of calla lilies.

I just stood there and looked at them.

Then I looked around the café.

The other tables had different flowers, with only one other table having calla lilies.

And somehow, of all the tables I could have chosen, there they were. Right in front of me.

A God wink.

I know a flower doesn't take away the grief. It doesn't make me miss Gavin any less or fill the empty place where I desperately wish he could still be. But sometimes, right in the middle of the missing, God gives us these little moments that come at exactly the right time. Moments that remind me that He sees me. He knows the ache in my heart. And He is still walking with me through every single part of this journey.

Today, I needed those calla lilies.

Maybe someone reading this needs this reminder too: keep looking for the God winks.

They may not come in big, dramatic ways. Sometimes they are a song at just the right moment. A memory that makes you smile instead of cry. A person who reaches out when you need it most. Or maybe they are simply a few calla lilies sitting on a café table on a little island in Maine.

Grief is teaching me that sorrow and gratitude can somehow live in the same heart. I can ache because Gavin isn't here and still thank God for the 8,922 days I was blessed to be his mom. I can miss him more than words can say and still trust the One who holds both Gavin and me.

And I can keep looking toward Heaven, knowing that because of Jesus, goodbye is not the end of our story.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

Today, in a little café on Peaks Island, God felt very near.

And I am so thankful for the God winks that show up at the most unexpected, yet somehow most perfect, times. 🧡

Until I see you again, my Gman, I will keep watching for them. 💟✝️🙏

I love you ❣️

07/02/2026

Today we celebrate Gavin's first birthday in Heaven.

Today you would have turned 25.

It's hard to believe it's only been seven months since the Lord called you Home. Not a minute goes by that I don't think about you. Your absence is written into me at a cellular level.

I miss your contagious laugh, your sense of humor, and watching you continue to grow into the man God was shaping you to be. I miss your love for plants and animals, your vibrant, authentic, wholehearted worship, and the way you would push your glasses up on top of your head whenever you prayed. I even miss cleaning those glasses for what felt like the bazillionth time because your lenses were always so dirty! I still don’t know how you could possibly see through them half the time. 😊 I miss you making up your soapy dish detergent solution in a glass and walking around putting stink bugs in it to kill them. It’s amazing how the little things become some of the biggest things when someone you love is no longer here.

Many people knew Gavin as someone with autism. I knew him as my son, and I had the privilege of watching the Holy Spirit at work in his life. His love for Jesus, his joy, and his worship were sincere. In the weeks after the Lord called him Home, a few people from our church family shared how much they missed seeing him sing and worship, and how his worship was genuine, heartfelt, and uninhibited. They said it left an impression on them in a meaningful way.

This journey has already been one of tremendous learning, and I know it will continue for the rest of my life. I feel like I’m only at the very beginning of what God is going to teach me through it all. It’s only been seven months, and there is still so much I cannot yet see. But I do believe God will redeem even this profound tragedy for His glory and use it to further His kingdom in ways I may not yet understand. In that, I hold onto the hope of “making Heaven crowded”—that somehow, even through sorrow, God will use our lives and our story to point others to Christ and eternity with Him.

Much of what He has been teaching me has been deeply shaped by Elisabeth Elliot’s book “Suffering Is Never for Nothing.” One truth that has stayed with me is that suffering and love are inseparably connected. We grieve deeply because we have loved deeply.

I don't have the answers, and I’ve come to expect that I won’t have the majority of them this side of Heaven. While I am earthside, I may never fully understand the story God is weaving through the joy and the sorrow.

What I am learning is that there really isn't an explanation that can satisfy the deepest griefs of this life. God's answer to our suffering is not an explanation—IT IS HIS PRESENCE. In Jesus, God entered our suffering, conquered death, and secured an eternal hope for all who trust in Him.

The Lord is teaching me to receive whatever He places in my cup—not because it is easy, but because I trust the One who holds it. He wastes nothing. Every tear is known to Him. Every sorrow has purpose, even when I cannot yet see it. My confidence rests not in understanding His ways but in trusting His heart.

This week at Joni and Friends Family Retreat, all the moments have made me think of Gavin. But one that especially stood out was around the campfire when we sang “Boom Chicka Boom.” I couldn’t help but smile, because it was a “Boom Chicka Boom” video he watched over and over and over again when he was a baby—one of those we played on repeat more times than I can count. I ended up watching it just as much as he did. That moment felt so very “Gavin.” The song leader kept doing it in all kinds of funny voices, and I just know he would have thought that was absolutely hysterical. He would have been laughing right along, completely in his element.

So today, while our hearts ache because we miss you, we also celebrate. We celebrate the gift of the 24 years God graciously gave us with you, and all that you taught us in them. We celebrate that today your faith has become sight in the presence of your Savior. We celebrate that you are worshiping Him perfectly, free from every burden and every sorrow. And we celebrate the promise that because of Christ, death is not the end of the story.

“For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” — 2 Corinthians 4:17–18

Happy 25th birthday, my Gman 🧡.

I love you. I miss you every minute of every day. Yet today, even through tears, we celebrate because you are Home. Until the day the Lord reunites us, I will keep my eyes fixed on Christ, trusting the Author of the story even when I cannot yet see all that He is writing.

Even in grief, even in love, even in loss—God is still worthy of all glory. 💟🙏✝️

I love you my beloved boy 🧡.

Soli Deo Gloria.

06/27/2026

As we approach Gavin's birthday on July 2—our first time celebrating it without him here—these days have been especially tender. I find myself missing him deeply, and yet God continues to remind me that His story for Gavin didn't end on December 5th.

Today, one of the incredible women who serves on our Autism Mother to Mother Luncheon committee shared something with me that deeply encouraged my heart.

She was working as a nurse at Rhodes Grove Camp while wearing her God. Gavin. & You. shirt when she had a conversation with a couple who had stopped by the camp. During their conversation, they shared that they are ordained pastors with the Chambersburg Salvation Army and asked her, "Who is Gavin?"

She told them Gavin's story and shared about Gavin's heart for Jesus and our mission to make heaven crowded. They loved that idea so much and told her they planned to use it in a future sermon to encourage their church to make heaven crowded.

Think about that for a moment.

One conversation.
One T-shirt.
One life.
One faithful God.

This is exactly why God. Gavin. & You. was born. Not simply to remember Gavin, but to point people to Jesus—the One Gavin loved and the only One who offers eternal hope.

As I prepare for Gavin's birthday, God continues to remind me that He is still writing a story that I cannot yet fully see. Even in the midst of grief, He is using Gavin's life to point people toward eternity. What an incredible gift to witness.

"Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us..."
— Ephesians 3:20

Thank you to everyone who has walked this journey with our family, worn a shirt, shared Gavin's story, prayed for us, and helped carry this message forward.

Let's keep pointing people to Jesus.
Let's keep loving boldly.
Let's keep making heaven crowded.
God. Gavin. & You. 🧡

06/23/2026

Today was my first full day of Family Retreat as a Ministry Relations Manager with Joni and Friends—the first day with families arriving and the retreat officially underway—and my heart is overflowing.💟

As I sat among these incredible families today, I couldn't help but reflect on the journey that brought me here. Looking back, I can see what feels like a 24-year preparation plan orchestrated by God Himself. Especially over this past year, there have been so many unmistakable moments of His guidance, provision, and faithfulness—so many "Godwinks"—confirming that this is the path He has chosen for me in this season of life.

I could write post after post about all the ways God has been weaving this story together, but today I want to share just one.
Twenty years ago, I came across Isaiah 45:3:

"I will give you hidden treasures, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the Lord, the God of Israel, who summons you by name."

At the time, we were navigating some of the earliest challenges with Gavin and beginning to realize that autism was likely part of our family's story. Along with that realization came fears, questions, uncertainties, and a future that felt largely unknown. Yet this verse captivated me. It spoke to my heart in a way I couldn't fully explain. I remember circling it, highlighting it, and marking it in my Bible because I never wanted to lose sight of it. Through the years, it remained one of those Scriptures I returned to again and again, trusting that God held treasures and purposes I simply couldn't see yet.

So imagine my awe—my overwhelming sense of God's faithfulness—when I learned that Isaiah 45:3 would be the theme verse for Family Retreat this year.

The very verse I circled, highlighted, and treasured in my Bible 20 years ago.
The verse that carried me through some of the earliest fears and uncertainties surrounding Gavin's diagnosis.

Out of the Bible's 31,102 verses, the one verse that had spoken so deeply to my heart all those years ago would become the theme verse for my very first Family Retreat with Joni and Friends.

That's approximately 0.003%—about 3 chances in 100,000.
Coincidence? I know it is not…but it is one more gentle reminder from God that He has been writing this story all along.

My first Family Retreat.
My first year serving with Joni and Friends.
Only six months after Gavin went home to be with Jesus.
What a beautiful Godwink.

In that moment, it felt as though God was gently reminding me: "You're exactly where I've led you. I've been preparing you for this. Trust Me."

Today, as I spent time with families affected by disability, listened to their stories, shared in their joys and challenges, and watched their children laugh, play, and experience the love of Christ, I felt so grateful to be here. There is something incredibly sacred about walking alongside these families, encouraging them, and helping create a place where they are seen, valued, supported, and loved.

Having lived this journey myself, being able to serve these families is both a privilege and a gift. Every conversation, every smile, every shared story reminds me why this ministry matters so much. The love, encouragement, respite, hope, and community that Joni and Friends provides to families living with disability is extraordinary, and I am humbled beyond words to be part of it.

The more time I spend with Joni and Friends, the more convinced I become that this ministry has been woven into God's plans for my life far longer than I ever realized. In many ways, I think He began preparing my heart for this calling the day Gavin was born. Every challenge, every lesson, every victory, every tear, and every joy has helped shape me for this season of serving families who are walking a path so familiar to my own.
And while my heart still misses Gavin every single day, I can't help but smile as I imagine him safely in the arms of Jesus—fully healed, fully whole, and celebrating this journey in a way only heaven can. Somehow, today's Godwink felt like a gentle reminder that God has Gavin, that His promises are true, and that heaven is not nearly as far away as it sometimes feels.

As I looked around today at all of the families gathered here, I couldn't help but think about how much of this journey began with Gavin. His life changed mine in countless ways, and through him God shaped my heart for this ministry long before I ever knew it. My prayer is that the story God continues to write through Gavin's life and legacy will bring hope, encouragement, and the love of Christ to families for years to come.
What once felt like hidden treasures still buried beneath uncertainty have become treasures revealed through God's perfect timing and faithfulness.

This story is only beginning, and I am so thankful to be part of the Joni and Friends team, serving in a mission and ministry that I deeply love and believe in. It feels less like finding a job and more like stepping into a calling God has been preparing me for throughout much of my life, but especially throughout Gavin's life.

God is still writing the story, and His faithfulness continues to leave me in wonder.💟🙏✝️

06/03/2026

Today I began a brand-new chapter as a Ministry Relations Manager (MRM) with Joni and Friends. 💙

After more than 30 years working as a Registered Nurse, I am stepping into a calling that God has been quietly writing into my life for far longer than I ever realized.
Looking back, I can see that this journey probably began 24 years ago with the birth of my oldest child, Gavin.

Gavin was impacted by autism and, in ways I could never have understood at the time, God used his life to begin shaping my heart for this work. Through Gavin, I learned, and am still learning, what it means to advocate, to persevere, to trust God in uncertainty, and to walk alongside families navigating the unique blessings and challenges of disability.

One milestone along that journey was the creation of the Autism Mother-to-Mother Luncheon, that was started in 2007, after God placed it on my heart. This Luncheon is a Christ-centered ministry that helps mothers of children with autism grow in their relationship with Jesus Christ while raising a child with special needs. I didn't realize it then, but God was already planting seeds.

Over the years, He continued to water and nourish those seeds. He placed people in my path, opened doors I never could have opened myself, and created opportunities that seemed unrelated at the time, but now fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Again and again, He was preparing my heart.

I've often told people that I felt like I had been sitting in God's waiting room for years. I knew He was calling me toward something, but I couldn't quite see what it was. There were moments of excitement, moments of uncertainty, and moments when I wondered if I had misunderstood altogether. But God was never absent. He was working behind the scenes. If I told you all the ways He has orchestrated this path, many of you would find it hard to believe. Yet that's often how God works. While we are focused on the next step, He is writing the entire story.

This past December, our family experienced the devastating loss of Gavin when he passed away unexpectedly following a seizure. There are still questions I cannot answer and devastating grief I continue to carry and will always carry this side of heaven. I do not yet fully understand how his death fits into God's greater plan.

But I know this: God is a Redeemer.✝️

He brings beauty from ashes. He brings purpose from pain. He wastes nothing.

As I begin this new role serving churches, individuals with disabilities, and their families, I carry Gavin's legacy with me. His life helped shape this calling, and his impact will continue through the work God has entrusted to me.

Today I am filled with gratitude, humility, and excitement for what lies ahead. More than anything, I am thankful that God never stopped working, even when I couldn't see it.

If there's one thing I've learned, it's this: when God places a calling on your heart, be willing to trust Him with the process. His timing is rarely our timing, and His plans are often bigger than anything we can imagine. What feels like waiting may actually be preparation.

Thank you to everyone who has encouraged, prayed for, and walked alongside me throughout this journey. I can't wait to see what God does next.

"To all who mourn... He will give a crown of beauty for ashes." — Isaiah 61:3

Let’s make Heaven Crowded!

To my Gman 🧡, I miss you and I love you every minute of every day, I look forward to our reunion day in Heaven with our Savior.

To God be the Glory! 💜✝️🙏

05/20/2026

Today was a day filled with so many emotions. Our sweet Gavin was honored as the honorary athlete at the Special Olympics held at West Perry High School.

For many years, Gavin looked forward to Special Olympics with excitement and joy. It was something he enjoyed participating in— the friendships, the cheering, the sense of belonging, and simply being part of something! Seeing him honored today was both heartbreaking and beautiful, reminding us how deeply he touched the lives of everyone who knew him.

We are incredibly grateful to Jennifer Dillman for her kindness in reaching out and asking for Gavin to be honored at this year’s event 🧡. That thoughtfulness means more to our family than words can ever express. Knowing he is still remembered and celebrated helps keep his beautiful spirit shining on.

As we waited for the ceremony to begin, a butterfly gently fluttered across the field. In that quiet moment, it felt like a little piece of Gavin was with us — a gentle reminder that love never truly leaves us. 🦋

Though we miss him every single day since losing him in December, today reminded us that Gavin’s light continues to live on through the memories, smiles, and love he left behind. 🧡

“So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.” — John 16:22

05/12/2026

🧡🧡🧡

While the quote doesn’t need much more elaboration as to the point being made, I think one additional point is important to remember.

We often won’t see how those broken pieces are used in the lives of others. It could be that our suffering is to be stewarded in a more public and far-reaching way, or it may be the impact that our life has on a select few around us, and the ripple effects go on for generations. Sometimes we are given glimpses, but there is a temptation to put our hope in seeing our pain be used or see immediate redemption in a measurable way that feels equal to what we we’ve lost. God often calls us to simply trust him with those broken pieces, even if we never see how he is using it.

It’s easy to slip into the subtle belief that God owes us visible earthly evidence of redemption in a way that makes our pain feel worthwhile. Sometimes we do get to see glimpses, which remind us he is always at work. But often, he simply asks us to trust him that he is working in a million ways while we often only see one or two of those (if any at times). He wants our hope to be in him, not in what we can see and make sense of.

I wonder if part of the joy of heaven will be getting to see all the ways God was at work in and through us in ways we couldn’t see. What sweet rejoicing it will be to see ways that each piece of our shattered life was used to bring healing, hope, and life through Jesus’ redemptive work.

Friend, if all you can see is what’s broken right now, know that God is at work in ways you can’t see. Not one shattered piece will be wasted in the hands of Christ. I’m asking for the faith to believe that right along with you.

But also be confident in this: God has good in store for YOU. He is not merely using your pain for the benefit of others, he is first and foremost working for your ultimate good as one he deeply loves. He is not in the business of “using” you for the gain of another at your expense, but instead redeeming your pain in a way that blesses you and reflects his glory into the lives of many.

05/05/2026

As we traveled to Grace’s college graduation on Friday, I quietly asked the Lord for a “Godwink”—a small, personal reminder that Gavin was with us, celebrating from his heavenly home.

Later, at our Airbnb, I opened a random drawer looking for TV instructions… and instead found one single puzzle piece. Just sitting there. Waiting. Right on top of a National Geographic magazine.
If you knew Gavin, you know how deeply meaningful that was.

Puzzle pieces have always been part of his story—autism, the email address I created 20 years ago that begins with “puzzlepiece,” his love for puzzles, and how incredibly talented he was at completing them. His celebration of life photo was from a time in Maine when he was working on a puzzle.

And if a puzzle was missing a piece? That wasn’t acceptable to Gavin 😊🧩
We would make the missing piece ourselves—cut from cardboard, colored just right, and placed perfectly where it belonged. Only then was the puzzle complete.

So to find that one single piece, in such an unexpected place, at such a meaningful moment… it felt like more than coincidence. It felt like love. Like presence. Like a gentle whisper saying, “I’m here.”

God is so good ❣️

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” — Psalm 56:8

04/27/2026

🧡 And to this truth I cling:

“If we could see and know what [our loved ones] see and know on the Other Side, our sadness would be overshadowed by joy and we would live on the edge of our seat in eager anticipation of joining them there. In the meantime, we wait, walk, and work—sometimes weeping, always worshiping.” – Nancy DeMoss Wolgemuth

04/20/2026

❤️❤️❤️