“While away on vacation, a phone call woke Becky Ogorek, 59, and her husband Keith in the early hours of July 18, 2016. Their sleepiness vanished when their neighbour back home said, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but your house is engulfed in flames.” The neighbourhood was frantic as she worried that the car parked in the driveway could indicate that someone was inside.
Except for their oldest daughter, the Ogoreks were gathered together on vacation at a cottage in Michigan. The oldest, in her late 20s, had flown back to Indianapolis to attend a work conference and was staying at her parent’s home. What Becky and Keith found out in the following heart-wrenching minutes was that she’d spontaneously decided to squeeze in an overnight with cousins in Chicago. She wasn’t home. No one was in the house when it had literally burst into flames.”
Read in full on Forever Young News.
“There is prayerful poetry woven through Houston author/artist Roger Hutchison’s work, a gentle reverence in his tone and posture toward the heartbroken. His recently released “My Favorite Color is Blue. Sometimes.: A Journey Through Loss with Art and Color” quickly became an Amazon Bestseller and is now in its second printing. This 32-page picture book live with vivid color takes the reader page after page through the emotions of grief and loss, such as anger, shock and hope. It’s Hutchison’s ambition to use art, color and poetic language to communicate love and promote healing in today’s hurting world.
Hutchison’s book is a powerful companion to “The Painting Table: A Journal of Loss and Joy”, his earlier book, which brought inspiration to conduct Painting Tableworkshops and eventually connected him with the Sandy Hook Elementary community where he worked with survivors of the December 14, 2012 school shooting.
Using his art and books as tools, Hutchison’s mission is to reach out to hurting communities, both near and far.”
Read in full in Houston Family Magazine.
Today, a bird slowly died in front of my children. The impact against our sliding glass doors was deafening. Housebound by a winter storm, the kids and I quickly abandoned our hot chocolate in our rush to discover that a bright crimson cardinal had struck the glass. It now lay helpless in the snow.
Be honest and don’t construct a cover-up. What’s been seen can’t be unseen: I watched, helpless to intervene or make my kids unsee this tragedy. The suffering we were witnessing elicited, “Mom, let’s help it!” “Should we bring it inside and nurse it?” “What do we do?” “Poor bird.” Our 12-year-old’s large eyes were brimming with tears. Her younger brother couldn’t look away. I wanted as badly as my kids to watch this bird miraculously fly away. But the cardinal grew still and we, silent, mourning the loss of an innocent bird.
Show sensitivity and respect for their particular attachments: Unlike adults, children fall in love fearlessly, without baggage. Maybe it’s toys as much or more than the people surrounding them they cherish. In the case of my children, it was their stuffed animals—each complete with name and personality.
As enjoyable as it was for me to witness the creative powers at work in my children’s play, I knew that the depth of attachment would create a storm of trouble if any of these animal kingdom favorites were lost. After all, these were real as flesh and blood friends in my children’s world. On many occasions, we did come close to losing a stuffed friend. At the grocery, in the airplane, on the sidewalk, silently fallen out of the stroller.
In every instance, the look of shock and pain in the affected child’s eyes was a small step into the brutal world, where fierce affection is often accompanied by sorrow, a pain equal to the love.
Read in full at Houston Family Magazine.