Walk to Remember is an event held yearly, as far as i know, across North America, and perhaps in other countries as well.

It's different from most things I've attended.  It's not overtly Christian, or prolife, or even conspicuously crunchy.  And yet, it's one thing i do that is ... i guess the word would be satisfying, but it's in a deeper way than is generally meant when i use that word.  Satisfying like the relief of peeling back a bandaid and seeing that the wound is healed over.  Satisfying like when someone you love finishes your sentence.  Satisfying like when someone assumes the best of you, and you don't do something stupid to prove them wrong.

At Walk to Remember, we drove up with our big blue van filled with children, and i made sure that whoever had not worn socks (!) got a pair from the bag i'd brought along - and then we double bagged the ones who needed an extra jacket or hat.  It was a crisp day, on the edge of bitter.

We walked across the legislature grounds, to the back, where there is a broad expanse of grass - past lavendar standing in memorial gardens, past two different wedding parties with faces filled with hope and men in fuschia ties for the one and only time in their lives.

We could hear the harp music, and as we came down the hill into the trees, we saw the balloons, and found our family and friends.

It's not so much what happens there as what happens inside.  For one day, everyone understands.  Someone else has taken time to plan a beautiful event, with meaningful activities - wishes pinned on a line with tiny beribboned laundry pins, balloon messages set aloft as your baby's name is read aloud - your baby's name, in someone else's pretty writing, along the path you walk with your husband and children.

The speaker again this year was Kate from Sweet&Salty Kate (sweetsalty.com and www.glowinthewoods.com) and it wasn't anything truly deep and meaningful - it wasn't teaching or preaching at me - it was gently acknowledging my own heart, my own fears, my own growth.

It was maybe the safest place to be as a person who has lost a little one.

I wish church could be this - i feel an aching that it isn't so.  But meanwhile, i'm so glad for all of my fellow human beings  - some of whom were beautiful enough to organize this...