What’s In a Name?

It’s been quite a while since I’ve sat down and wrote.

Quite a few years, actually.

A lot of life has happened since I logged into this site. LOTS of life, actually.

Lots of healing from Sam’s loss.

Lots of new joys that have landed in our laps.

Lots of navigating new and admittedly – complicated and troubled waters at times.

To quickly summarize and skim my life events over the past few years: Three weddings with two new son in laws and the addition of a new stepdad; the births of two gloriously wonderful granddaughters, and watching our daughters morph into mamas; a new career for Wade; the completion of much needed and major home renovations; the establishment of a local grief support group, as well as supporting Wade in the launching of a small, non profit hunting organization for the disabled; and most recently – the unexpected redefining of my relationship with my dad…….

and now, this.

THIS.

I’ve been saving my thoughts since April 23, 2026.

I’ve cried more than a few tears since then. I’ll try and tell the story as best as my memory will serve me:

On my 51st birthday this year, I get a FaceTime call one evening at work, at the end of a taxing shift at the clinic. I am finishing up charting, wrapping up various tasks, etc., and I see the name ‘Madison Josey Grissom’ come across my phone as she is face timing me.

What a sweet surprise.

She remembered my birthday. (Probably can just thank Facebook for the reminder, lol – let’s be real.)

‘Who is Madison?‘- some reading may be asking.

If you knew Sam, especially in the last few years of his life, well – you’d likely know who she is.

I got to know Madison on a much deeper level after Sam’s passing. I’ve learned a lot about who she was, and who she is.

Sam knew.

And I’m also reminded that Jesus has always known. And He was very intentional about inserting her into our paths.

Sam met her one summer at Camp Barnabas. She had travelled to camp with her local church group from Tennessee to volunteer and serve for the week he attended. I can’t recall if she was his counselor or not – but an enduring connection between the two was formed that week. Cell numbers were exchanged. A friendship was born, and it was one that Sam deeply treasured.

I’d see glimpses of her text exchanges with him, especially on the mornings where we’d get him out of bed, and his phone would light up with a “good morning Sam!”; “hope you have a good day…” – those type of texts. I’d witness the quiet smile that would come across his face as he’d glance down and read the welcomed greetings and receive her kind ‘hellos’ to start his day with.

It always made me smile, to see him smile.

I didn’t snoop on his phone or read their conversations – I did try my hardest to give my son the dignity of having privacy and autonomy, while yet trying to protect him from what could potentially be on the other side of his screens….

But I knew enough of their exchanges and what he’d share with us about her….. I knew that he cared a great deal for her. And I was pleasantly surprised that their conversations would last well past those few weeks after camp, when life inevitably continues on.

You ever put people in little boxes in the many, many shelves you keep in your mind?

I put her in a box.

And I kept her there for a long time.

A pretty box. A box I was thankful for. A rare and unique box.

But it was a box that was attached to these thought logs and covered with these mental sticky notes: ….. “she lives in an entirely different world in every way; she will move on and it will hurt your son to see her living life; how will you protect him from the college life she’ll live out in front of him whilst he only can exist in his bedroom in front of his xbox; she is only being nice because she’s a Christian girl; she really just feels sorry for him and doesn’t want to hurt him; there will be boyfriends and parties and friends, and she’s so pretty; this will only plunge Sam further into isolation ….. “

It takes time and conscious surrender to hand our boxes over to the Lord, doesn’t it? Not everything we feel, or think – is the truth, even though we label it as such.

But then – to watch them depart from each other at the end of camp, summer after summer, to say their goodbyes….. give me a stinkin’ Kleenex box!!

I’m not sure who cried the most when camp was over: him or her.

Wade and I would obviously feel so bad for Sam, but yet, we’d look at each other, quietly and completely puzzled, not daring to believe that she actually and clearly cared for Sam in a reciprocal way?

That was too risky. That was too…..beyond what we could really only hope for: that our child would know love. That he would know a soul connection beyond us…

So much we had already mentally and emotionally forfeited to the diagnosis of FA: an athletic season or hobby; a driver’s license; dating, an occupation, moving out on his own; grandchildren….. shall I go on?

We put to death so many expectations – and yet we had to choose to live with a different set of lenses on, or go blind with sadness and sorrow.

And it was ok with those lenses – life was good, really good – at times.

But her? Really?

No….. I just put her in that box, neatly placed a lid on it, and kept her there… and dreaded the day when Sam saw the impossibility and stark reality of his situation.

I lived with a lot of dread during that decade.

Let me move onto his last summer on this earth – it’s one I want to remember.

May 2018 started off with the placement of a g-tube. I saw his swallowing was getting worse. The inaudible speech, the coughing with drinking and eating only reminded me of FA’s relentless and insidious total take over of his body. The nurse in me reasoned that we would need this tube eventually, likely sooner rather than later. (I was beyond defeated watching him try and do a swallow study at Children’s Hospital….)

A few weeks later after the procedure however – was camp. He was looking so forward to it, and I felt confident with my prior years experiences as a camp nurse – that the staff at Barnabas would be able to care for his new tube properly, and there was no real justified reason to keep him from attending.

Madison would be there, you know.

She was a large part of the driving force that pushed him into that magical and blessed property in southern Missouri, known as Camp Barnabas – which God’s hand still rests on.

We decided I wouldn’t go and serve that year as a nurse, but Wade was going to accompany Sam and volunteer for the week in the maintenance dept. I looked forward to having a few days off to myself, and for some time with Kathryn.

Sam would celebrate his 18th birthday at camp that summer. I think I asked Wade to snap and send some pics for me on that day.

Our dear friend Cyndy Lee (a nurse from North Carolina), captured on video the singing and celebration of his birthday at camp one night in the mess hall – and it’s a 2 minute video that I treasure BEYOND what I can now find words for.

One night that week, unbeknownst to them, Wade captured a photo of Sam and Madison at an evening worship service, and she is gently holding his hand. The look of peace and just sheer contentment on my son’s face – it’s unmistakable. It is there for her, too. (I have the snapshot framed in my room. )

Prophetically – the theme of that year’s camp: “Brand New”.

How very true this would come to be. (I have his camp tshirt sewn into the t-shirt quilt that we sleep under every night.)

God writes some beautiful pages, doesn’t He?

Sam had revealed to us earlier in the previous year during a very trying hospitalization that he wanted to return to Yellowstone, “one more time, in the time I have left.”

He also told us he wanted to invite Madison for the trip.

I took a deep breath in…. how would she actually feel about this? Would it be weird? Would it be awkward? Would she actually want to go?

I decided I’d do some behind the scenes texting, and secretly told her mom what Sam intended to ask her…. Would she ask Madison how she truly felt? Is this just a bad idea?

Because I can find a way to shut it down before damage is done….

I wanted to save my kid from being hurt and embarrassed, and at the same time, I wanted to save this sweet young lady a week from being with a family that she really may not have wanted to spend a week with, halfway across the US…..

After a few exchanges with her mom Shannon, she told me Madison would be more than willing to go with us, and it was an enthusiastic ‘yes’ for her.

Wow – alrighty then.

Fast forward to the first week of August.

I’ll encourage and give Sam the green light to go ahead and ask her. ( I had been putting him off doing this…) We discussed how he would budget and help pay her way – for this was a big, and expensive trip after all. And he now had an income, after all – thanks to SSI.

If you’ve heard me talk about the last week of Sam’s life, you have likely heard the week’s events being recounted:

He got a brand new iPhone with his money; he asked Madison over FaceTime if she’d go to Yellowstone with us the following May, and he got a “yes!” ( I swore he’d have fallen out of his wheelchair had he not been strapped in ) and he wore the happiness all over his face; he got his favorite meal (lasagna) on a Friday night, and the next morning, he woke up to Christ’s hand and heaven’s light.

What a week, would’t you say?

Wade made the call to Madison’s dad that awful morning, to tell him of the news.

She didn’t need to hear this from us – she needed to hear it from them.

We’d later learn what a painful task it was for Bryan and Shannon to call their daughter that morning with news that none of us could really process….

Madison and her mom flew in shortly thereafter for Sam’s services – and that’s when I had to take down her box, dust it off, and surrender it over to the sovereignty and indescribable goodness of Jesus.

I slowly began to see what I had been afraid of seeing: she did love Sam.

But in a pure, other-wordly type of way.

Not the way our culture defines love. Not the way movies portray it. Not the way I’ve witnessed it, expected it, nor even experienced it myself.

This was different. And it was real.

I knew Sam loved her.

And she loved him back. But that reality was never fully present to us, until he was no longer present.

That’s what made her so unique. She saw my son through the physical limitations. She knew him past the wheelchair. They shared an impeccable taste for great music. They connected on lots of levels that I can only speculate about. She gave him the gift – of just her time. And it had a profound impact on him – in a good way.

He was seen.

She is – and always will be – a gift.

Through the coming years, I watched through social media and our regular phone updates, as she fell in love with a wonderful man a few years ago. I could see so plainly in pics that he simply adored her to her core – and she glowed with peace and joy. I could hear it in her voice when she talked about him.

Wade and I made the trek to Nashville Tennessee a few years ago, so we could again see our other FAmily (the Magnesses) that we deeply love, and I got to attend a true Southern bridal shower for Madison. (Again – was it any coincidence that two families that were pivotal to our story would end up living less than 30 minutes apart? Only God…)

It was the first time since Sam’s funeral that I got to hug her neck. I didn’t know if I could keep it together and not be weird. Sam’s loss was still very fresh, and my nervous system was so out of whack from grieving and all it entails…… To see her just unearthed so many memories and emotions.

Surely she knew the place she always would hold in our hearts. We immediately felt at ease to be around her again, and we were welcomed in her home for dinner in a way I’ll never forget.

As the adage goes, “you may not remember what people say, but you remember how they made you feel….” We felt embraced in her world again.

We go to see her parents and meet her blushing, enthusiastic, hilarious, energetic, kind, and very-much-in-love groom, Andrew.

It was a great trip, and I finally was glad to be rid of that dusty box in my mind for good.

Though observing life through a phone, their wedding a few months later was lovely.

I smiled to see their apartment, then recently a move to a new house.

I recognized the familiar giddiness and hopefulness that I saw in my own daughters as they set out to establish their lives and chase after love and living.

I got to share in more of her joy months ago when she texted me a pic of a positive pregnancy test.

It’s been an honor to be included on the fringes of Madison’s life to watch her grow, to become…. and to see her heart’s desires being fulfilled, one by one.

So when I got the FaceTime call on my birthday a few months ago, I could tell she wasn’t alone, and she and Andrew were in a car driving somewhere.

“Madison, have you picked out a name for that kid yet ?!?!”

I had plans for sending some long distance baby gifts, and I was anxiously awaiting what the new baby’s name would be.

She began, “Well, that’s kinda the reason why we called….. we’ve talked a lot, prayed about it, and Andrew has chosen the name Samuel, and I agree, …. and we want to know if that’s ok?”

I felt the breath go out of me.

Tears and some awkward sobs poured out from my heart, without asking for my permission. They just came.

“Of course that’s ok!! I’d be completely honored!” (I think that’s what I said as I was trying to wrap my brain and emotions around this).

I told Wade that night, and the same response poured out of him.

Lots of private tears that evening – and just silent awe of the Lord.

To have kept this inside; to not tell their story before they do (for it is very much theirs), has been challenging!

My child legacy and life doesn’t just exist in his family and friend’s memories, to only be confined there and remain etched on a shiny black tombstone in Lamar, Oklahoma – it now lives on to the next generation.

Because of someone that he gave a part of his heart to.

Because of someone that gave part of her heart to him.

And because God wove her eventual path into the arms of a man who loves her with every fiber of himself – and Andrew epitomizes self-less love.

I can see that plainly, and yet I barely know him.

So on August 30th, 2026 ….. Samuel Rhyne Grissom made his entrance into Madison and Andrew’s world, in Nashville, Tennessee.

August is now an even a more important month for Wade and I, thanks to the two Samuels in our lives. There is a time and season for everything….

Wade and I remain stunned at the goodness of the Lord in our world – knowing that only Him – ONLY HIM – could write and weave such an unbelievable chapter.

These verses come to life in real time, in my heart:

Isaiah 61: “The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good new to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom to the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve in Zion – to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.”

I know one could argue that I’ve taken these verses way out of context – for they were given at a very dark and desperate time of Isreal’s history.