Taylors Helping Hands is a charitable organization dedicated to the memory of Taylor E Cothran.

  2 Corinthians 1:2-4 "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Churst, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God."(NIV)

Home Moms Blog

April 17, 2010

I find myself repeating myself sometimes. Well, maybe more than sometimes. It's the time of year for the birds to come out and build a nest for the eggs that turn into baby birds.

We had our house spruced up for getting ready to sell and the guys, as they should've- cleaned out the birds nests that have housed years of families on our front porch. I knew it was the right thing to do, they had made quite the mess up there year in and out. But we all loved the time of year for nesting. We'd get a ladder and try and peek in the 4 nests 12 feet up, 'safe' from the weather, other bad things but not safe from us peeking in occasionally. But it's time to move on, move out and time for these birds to relocate too. However, I got such a sweet surprise the other day when I walked out the front door to a bucket size amount of 'nesting' material in front of me! Looking up I saw a nest! Just like every other year! They came back! They just came back and rebuilt! I can't say I'm not upset that I've already had to wipe off the 'poop' from our new tennants, I mean we are trying to sell the house. But I sure hope the buyers are bird lovers cause I think they are here to stay.

 Even though every year the baby birds leave the nest, the winter comes and the birds travel to warmer weather, even though their normal home has been taken down, even though they must start over...they do.

They start over and they build and they create and they wait and protect and then they watch. 

Then they hunt and feed and protect and then they watch...they watch each one get older and stronger and along the way one may be taken or fall or just not make it.

Even though...they watch as each one takes flight and leaves the nest-forever. Then the saddest part off the nest, is when it's empty. Mama, daddy, babies all leave. Because it's time.

We get to enjoy the birds for the summer. There are red birds that sit on the Crepe Myrtle in fronf of our window. Tom likes to think it's Taylor telling him he's ok. I see Taylor and my dad in the birds. I swear sometimes they follow me or show up on purpose just to be close to my soul. I love to hear them sing and watch them fly around the trees, all playful and free and happy.

Welcome bird family of Spring 2010. You know, I think Taylor and Tara are great names for a baby birds.... just sayin....

 My baby birds...mama sitting on her nest!


April 11,2010


Well, Taylor, today is your dad's 50th birthday. I know, it's been a year of big birthdays. You turned 21 and dad is 50. Wow, what happened to time? I remember when we had a 30th birthday party for him, you were just a baby, Tara, just a dream.

Birthdays just come and go now, I'm sorry that you may feel responsible, your not, well, maybe you are. It's just impossible to celebrate and feel happy having a birthday when you don't. That didn't come out right, it sounds better in my head. Not that we aren't thankful for life and the people we love and cherish, but when it's your birthday, something in your heart says I shouldn't be here- YOU should be celebrating a birthday, not me. So we try and be 'happy' and go through the motions, but it's not the same. What can I get your dad that he wants? The thing he wants I can't give him. Anything else, just seems trivial. Not unappreciated, just... Man this sounds so much better in my heart.

Bottom line is, we miss you, things aren't the same. The days go on and we cope and live and do, but days like birthdays just bring back memories. I remember the year you were going to France with the school and Tara and I were going to Mexico on a mission trip- and we'd miss dad's birthday. We took a picture of us holding a Happy Birthday poster and hid it for him to find. He still keeps it up in his closet, that was 2006.

So, my son, stay close to dad today, whisper in his heart that it's ok to be 50.





April 9, 2010

I'm not exactly sure what happened these past 2 weeks. All I remember is we had spring break. I had planned to lay about and rest, sleep, nap. Rebuild the lack of physical, mental, spiritual, emotional, ect ability I've lost these past 7 months of full time school and clinical. I mean for an old lady, this don't come easy and I may be 'all the way' at 2 1/2 years in my grief journey, it's only a drop in the bucket towards being 'healed' so I have felt that I bit off way more than I could chew. Oh, to top it off I got a part time job on the weekends becuase I am completely broke, no more trees in the back yard to dig up. I had planned on not working as well during spring break, they just didn't have to know I wasn't still in class, "shhhhhh!"

But again, plans of mine are plans to be...

As I'm getting off work sunday evening Tara texts me that she's so sick she needs to go to the doctors office. Symptoms of appendicitis- classic. I'm hoping I can judge the drama queen's pain. Off and on all sunday night she continued to hurt and stay awake, and me too (at 4:30 am I thanked God I wasn't about to get up for my usual trip to the hospital for clinical, once I get her off to sleep, she'll be ok and we'll sleep all day...) 9am, "mama, can we go to the doctor now?" "wha???????? SHOOT!"

The next 8 hours consisted of a doctors appointment and a trip to outpatient services for a CT scan. Left there at 6PM, with no appendix problems. Maybe a ovarian cyst. 'Go home and the doc will call tomorrow." You're kidding me right? You may have figured out what it AINT, but I still have to go home with a crying, complaining, sick kid!!

No better off monday night than sunday.

The next 3 days we were back at the docs office to draw more blood, finally a look see for the cyst of which it was, nothing to make it not happen, nothing to make it go away, nothing to do about it, just get through it. LOVELY. What about the puking??????? The fever???? The classic answer, "well there's a GI bug going around she must have had along with the cyst". LUCKY us.

FINALLY! It's friday and I have a couple of days for  my origional plans... Hum, I feel a little odd, things kinda seem like, well, hum... 10PM: BAM! The next 8 hours for me involved vomiting over and over. Then I woke up sunday at 11 am. Really.

Sat up all night sunday waiting for my first trip to a new hospital, nervous, scared, wide awake and yet my body had been through 7 days of ANTI rest! Which set up this weeks dominos that fell one by two starting at 7am monday...

This is the first time Ive felt like 'me' in 2 weeks. I never thought that feeling like me would be such a welcome feeling. I guess if you don't feel like 'you' the other choices don't include a fanstasy you.

I have so many things to say, so many thoughts lately, I PLAN on getting to them day by day now that I'm back to the old, grieving, student, worker, mom........ (and considering the alternative, I'm glad to be back to it!)

I'm so lucky, look at this picture, look at these 2 children! :)


March 30, 2010

I know Taylor you are hating these dreaded Bradford Pears! The official tree of every neighborhood in the world- or so you said- fist shaking at every one we'd pass by!  Oh, how your allergies would mess you up while they bloomed. Once I told you about them being the source of your congestion, the beauty of the full wite blossoms, turned them into a thorn in the rose of your sneezing! Oh, how I wish you could sneeze and cuss the Bradford Pears again. I can't look at a full white Pear tree and not think of you...


The tree- NOT a Bradford Pear, planted in your memory at the front entrrance of JL Mann High School

Russell Kelfer
Mar 25, 2010

One of our favorite Daily Encourager's...   




Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried,
Quietly, patiently, lovingly God replied.
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate,
And the Master so gently said, "Child, you must wait."

"Wait?  You say, wait! " my indignant reply.
"Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
Is your hand shortened? Or have you not heard?
By Faith, I have asked, and I am claiming your Word.

My future and all to which I can relate
Hangs in the balance, and YOU tell me to "WAIT"?
I'm needing a 'yes', a go-ahead sign,
Or even a 'no' to which I can resign.

And Lord, You promised that if we believe
We need but to ask, and we shall receive.
And Lord, I've been asking, and this is my cry:
I'm weary of asking!  I need a reply!

Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate
As my Master said once again, "Child, you must wait."
So, I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut
And grumbled to God, "So, I'm waiting... for what?"

He seemed, then, to kneel, and His eyes wept with mine,
And he tenderly said, "I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens, and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead, and cause mountains to run.

All you seek, I could give, and pleased you would be.
You would have what you want  -  But, you wouldn't know Me.
You'd not know the depth of My love for each saint;
You'd not know the power that I give to the faint.

You'd not learn to see through the clouds of despair;
You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there;
You'd not know the joy of resting in Me
When darkness and silence were all you could see.

You'd never experience that fullness of love
As the peace of My Spirit descends like a dove;
You'd know that I give and I save... (for a start),
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of My heart.

The glow of My comfort late into the night,
The faith that I give when you walk without sight,
The depth that's beyond getting just what you asked
Of an infinite God, who makes what you have LAST.

You'd never know, should your pain quickly flee,
What it means that "My grace is sufficient for Thee."
Yes, your dreams for your loved one overnight would come true,
But, Oh, the Loss! If I lost what I'm doing in you!

So, be silent, My Child, and in time you will see
That the greatest of gifts is to get to know Me.
And though oft may My answers seem terribly late,
My most precious answer of all is still, "WAIT."


March 23-24, 2010

The first and last birthdays...


Remembering or not. I had thought my memory would last longer than 3 years. But sometimes I can’t remember my last meal, so I guess it’s spotty.

March 24 2007 was your 18th birthday. I remember getting you a toaster strudel with a candle and some ‘over the hill’ balloons and napkins. Probably because I took a picture. I remember how happy we all were. We went out to eat at Arizona’s because it was your favorite place to have steak. I remember this because I can’t go in there anymore. The last time I was there it was March 24, 2007.

I remember getting you a guitar cake- it was so awesome! But the blue frosting stained our tongue and teeth! I think I even peed blue!

I remember having your friends hiding in the house so when we came home they’d jump out and tell you Happy Birthday!

But I don’t remember details. Somehow they seemed, not unimportant, but not my focus. I just wanted you to have the happiest 18th birthday ever. You were so gracious, always were. Grateful for everything, not asking for anything.  Assuming that on your next and next and next- we’d have so many more birthdays to celebrate and give. I had plans.

I know I didn’t think it would be the last one. I do remember that in great detail. How would that have changed things? Do we want to know the future or are we better off not knowing. People who deal with terminal illnesses have that ‘opportunity’ to know mortality. Not sure if I would have wanted that one. Not knowing affords you the luxury to rely on ‘tomorrow’. Knowing allows you the luxury to not.  Watching you slowly leave me that 6 days in the hospital were so extremely difficult, and that’s putting it G rated. The real emotion of it, I don’t think there are words invented for it, more like groaning and agony. I don’t know if my mind could’ve wrapped itself around months of ‘knowing’. Grieving for so long, watching something happen to you I couldn’t stop but still hanging on to hope. 1 week will take until my last breath to get over.

I wish I could hear your voice, smell your skin (although all I have to do is smell Tara, you both have the same amazing smell, and I could just smell your skins off your body! Maybe that’s a mom thing.) Touch your hair, so thick that when we’d go to the beach you’d have a cotton ball hairdo because of the salt! Look into those beautiful blue green eyes, so sweet and I could see forever in them. I used to see it in Tara’s eyes too, but now, they’re just vacant, until she cries and I can see how very much she loves you. My heart breaks for her every day. My heart just breaks every day.

Well, I guess I remember more than I think, I hope and pray that I never stop remembering even though it brings so many tears. Not sure what to make of all this remembering. But I will remember March 24 1989 forever. The day I became a mom, changed me forever. Happy 21st Birthday son!


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