I will never forget the overwhelming sight of our large kitchen island absolutely overflowing with flowers. As I brought one arrangement in, it wasn’t long before another was sitting on our front porch, ready to be added to the collection. When we would walk out to grab a meal that someone dropped off, to our surprise, there would usually be another arrangement (or arrangements) that had been sitting there. If we would leave the house to run a quick errand, as we pulled back into our driveway, the sight of colorful flowers was quickly noticed.
What a kindness this was to us. Several rose bushes, countless roses of every shape, size, and color, and all the flowers in between. Every arrangement was a true reminder of God’s unbelievably beautiful creation and His nearness to us in our darkest valley.
When people would come into our house and turn the corner from our entryway to our kitchen, the sight of the flowers would often stop them in their tracks, as well. Michael and I weren’t the only ones who experienced this overwhelming sight – a visual representation of the love from our community – it was clear for others to see, too.
These flowers didn’t stay on our kitchen island for a couple of days – they truly lasted for weeks. We tended to them, filling up each and every arrangement with more water, and what a joy it was to do that.
The day before Calvary’s funeral, my best friend Monica sent me the song “Flowers” by Samantha Ebert. I had never heard the song before she sent it to me, but it is a song that has played several times in my home, car, and mind. The chorus of the song reads:
“So I brought it up in a desperate prayer
Lord, why are you keeping me here?
Then He said to me, ‘Child, I’m planting seeds
I’m a good God and I have a good plan
So trust that I’m holding a watering can
And someday you’ll see that flowers grow in the valley'”
Michael and I are clinging to the truth that our God is a good God who has a good plan. We have already seen flowers growing in this valley, and we know there will be even more flowers to come.
If you sent us a flower arrangement, please know we cherished each flower’s beauty and presence in our home deeply. Usually it’s great if a flower arrangement can last a week. Our kitchen island garden of flowers truly lasted weeks. Thank you again for blessing us in this way.
And it wasn’t only flowers. Meals showed up just when we needed them most. My dear friend, Natalie, organized a meal train for us. When we had our first daughter, it was 2020 (oh, COVID years…) and we had recently moved from Cincinnati, so apart from some of Michael’s family, we really didn’t know anyone locally. We hadn’t found our community yet. We first experienced the true blessing of a meal train after we had our son in 2023. “This. Is. Amazing!” I said over and over again to my husband and my mom, who was staying with us temporarily to help love on us and our kids, something she has done after all three of our births. If you have been on the receiving end of a meal train, you know just how incredible it is to have someone create a meal train for you.
But what was even more incredible was seeing how many people had signed up to provide us meals shortly after they learned of our loss. We were still in the hospital and people had already signed up for meals through the month of August. So many people signed up to bring meals that all of the spots were filled so quickly and more were added. My email was blowing up as I was notified of new people signing up to bring us a meal or gift cards being sent to us. When I went to add all of the Door Dash gift cards we were given to my account, Door Dash stopped accepting them because apparently there is a daily limit to how many gift cards you can add to your account. Talk about humbling. It was absolutely overwhelming – in the best way.
If you are reading this and you brought us a meal (or meals) and/or sent us gift cards, please know how deeply our family has appreciated and enjoyed this act of service – we are still eating delicious meals being brought to us! It has been such a gift for us to not have to worry about what we were going to make for dinner, especially when we were in the thick of planning Calvary’s funeral.
As we begin to approach the end of our meal train sign-ups, it’s wild to see how much time has passed. It’s been close to three months, which on one end feels like it’s been so long, and on the other end, it’s hard to believe it’s been that long. The meals we were blessed to enjoy as a family have been so helpful throughout this season, and we are deeply thankful.
Michael and I have kept each and every card that was given to us. How humbling it was to receive countless cards, numerous of them from people we’ve never met. We have an entire box filled with cards alone – what a sight to see all of those cards stacked one on top of the other inside the box. We have read and reread each and every word. When we’re especially missing our girl, we go through our Calvary memorial trunks and look through everything we have that connects us to our daughter – all of the cards we’ve received being some of those items.
Thank you for your encouragement and prayers. The act of reading your heartfelt words has been, and continues to be, such a blessing to us.
After dropping off a meal the Friday after we lost Calvary, I spoke with one of my sisters-in-law about how exhausted my eyes were and how I had never had bags under my eyes like this before. She looked at me – she could tell. My eyes truly ached. They had never seen sleep deprivation like this before; they had never produced such frequent tears like this before.
The next morning I woke up to a package on our doorstep with an eye massager (who knew those even existed?!). It could even connect to bluetooth so I could play music while I used the device. Shortly after leaving the hospital, Michael and I made a Spotify playlist filled with songs that connect us to and remind us of our daughter. What a gift it was and has been to be able to lay down with my eye massager on while listening to that playlist, especially in those first weeks after her passing.
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It has been tradition on Michael’s side of the family ever since the very first grandkid was expected for Michael’s mom, Renata, to use her gift of knitting to make something for each baby. Blankets, booties, sweaters – you name it, she can make it. I remember FaceTiming with her and Michael’s dad on Saturday, May 31st – they were in the car traveling home and I was at the pool with our daughter. Renata mentioned she was busy working on finishing something for our baby and would be sure to keep her phone tilted up, as to avoid revealing the surprise.
My mother-in-law later told me, “I remember asking myself why I was finishing early because I always finish them right at the due date. The Lord knew and somehow prompted me to start and finish early.” The day she finished knitting our daughter’s booties on May 31st was our last day with Calvary moving around in my belly.
And then it was June. We had come home from the hospital on June 3rd without our girl. To open those precious white booties later that evening that my mother-in-law had spent hours making was hard. They have the most beautiful details and were made with such intentional care, and yet, not only will they never be worn, but hey will never be worn by the person she had in mind and prayed for while knitting them. “Her feet should be wearing these,” I thought to myself. As I’ve held those little booties in my hands on several occasions since receiving them, I long to hold my girl each and every time.
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Something one of my other sisters-in-law has done for all of the nieces and nephews is buy them a wooden puzzle that spells out their name. She has done this for each of our two kiddos, and I love that this has become tradition. After finding out we lost Calvary, my sister-in-law didn’t hesitate to buy a puzzle spelling out her name. Without talking to us, she thought about us homeschooling and how we could use this puzzle to help our kids learn to spell their sister’s name. “It’s just another way to talk about her,” she said, and although Calvary won’t get to play with her very own name puzzle, I’m thankful this tradition didn’t die when our daughter did.
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I could go on and on about all of the gifts we received; each given with so much love and thought; each with its own story. From books, artwork, and candles to self-care items, decorations, and comfort items, we truly received it all. Thank you all for your extremely heartfelt gifts. Each and every one of them was unbelievably thoughtful, and we felt deeply seen by our community through your generosity in this way.
From the depths of our grief, we have also experienced the depths of love. Thank you for remembering our daughter, Calvary Rose, and for showing us that even in sorrow, beauty and hope still bloom.
Your prayers, meals, flowers, messages, donations, and presence have been tangible reminders of God’s care. Through you, we have felt Scripture lived out—“weeping with those who weep” and helping to carry us when we could not carry ourselves.
In our darkest days, you have been the hands and feet of Jesus. Every card, hug, and act of kindness has reminded us we are not walking this road alone. Though we would never have chosen this path, God’s grace has been poured out through the people He has placed around us.
From our hearts, thank you for loving us and honoring our precious daughter. Your kindness has given us glimpses of healing in the midst of grief, and we will never forget the way you have stood with us.
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The Calvary Rose Foundation exists to honor the life of Calvary Rose Jackson by supporting grieving parents and families who have experienced the loss of a precious child—at any stage of life.
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