Author: stephaniemoorewrites

Vacations

stephaniemoorewrites

The year before Rory died, we took a huge vacation. The kids missed the last month of school. We flew to Florida and started with a transatlantic cruise.

We boarded the cruise. And the kids had so much fun!

We spent time in the Azores.

We lost our way through Portugal.

We discovered some of the beauty of Spain.

We walked the sacred beaches of Normandy and reflected at the graves.

Then made our way through England up to Scotland for 10 days.

Together, crammed in a car, driving on the other side of the road.

It’s time that we’re so grateful we took. Precious time that we didn’t know was so limited.

Now, Lance and I look for way to take the boys out of their regular life and spend lots of quality time together.

We’ve started our next adventure!

There was an empty seat in the six seat rows. Which is hard.

Hawaii!!! We were all up before 6 this morning, so it’s an early start!

We hope Rory stops in and enjoys some family time with us. We miss her.

My Hope Because of Him

stephaniemoorewrites

The week after Rory’s death, there were so many hard things.

One of the most painful was her viewing. Seeing my baby girl. Lifeless.

I took her precious hand between mine for the last time. Her hands that touch my cheeks. Her hands that picked up and loved baby chicks. Her hands that wrapped around my leg when she was scared. Her hands that wrote her name and mine.

But she was empty.

There was no light.

Her spirit was gone.

The girl that beamed and was full of life, was a shell.

But this is where we welcome the hope of Easter.

Our Savior was crucified and His body lay in a tomb.

His body, a shell of the amazing man He once was. His hands that performed miracles. His hands that washed disciples’ feet. His hands that held up children. His hands that brought people to Him. His hands used in service and love.

His hands that are still scarred from the sacrifice He made for me and you.

When Mary went to the tomb on Sunday morning, His body was gone.

His body and spirit were reunited.

Giving me hope.

Rory’s body won’t remain lifeless.

Her body and spirit will be reunited again.

Our Rory will be whole.

Because of Him.

Being Brave, Being Who You Are

stephaniemoorewrites

People felt close to Rory.

If you were to ask me, she was a mama’s girl.

If you were to ask Lance, she was a daddy’s girl.

If you were to ask Chiler, Xander or Dax, each of them would probably say that he was her favorite.

Here’s the thing:

It’s all true.

When she was with one of us, we were the most important person.

In my book club this month, we read Braving the Wilderness by Brené Brown. It made me realize something about Rory and how she was able to do this.

In Braving, Brown says:

“True belonging is the spiritual practice of believing in and belonging to yourself so deeply that you can share your most authentic self with the world and find sacredness in both being a part of something and standing alone in the wilderness. True belonging doesn’t require you to change who you are; it requires you to be who you are.”

Rory was authentic.

Rory was brave, in that she embraced who she was and just loved people.

It enabled her to engage freely with others.

She didn’t sit back, she put her sweet hands on people’s cheeks and made sure they were present in the conversation as well.

She truly belonged with each of us. And we felt it.

What a gift she gave us.

A place where we always belonged.

Gravity

stephaniemoorewrites

One year, five months ago the gravity around me changed.

The gravitational pull that grounds me to the Earth increased.

Where once I could walk freely, now taking every step is work. There’s so much additional pressure pushing me to the ground.

I had a reminder come up on my phone this morning that two years ago today we were at the Red Woods.

There, surrounded by the largest trees we’d ever seen, the kids ran through the forest.

I remember walking across a log. It was a little scary. I could do it though because gravity was less heavy.

I remember lifting Rory onto a log so she could climb along with her brothers. Before she got scared and jumped right back down. And I could lift her because she was there. And life wasn’t so weighty.

I remember Rory running and standing in front of Lance and I when we asked one of the boys to take a picture of us. We shrugged. We were happy to have her in a picture with us. Happy is something that came easier when gravity didn’t have such a pull.

This new existence takes me to my knees. The new gravitational pull tries to keep me there.

Luckily, I have the love, prayers, and strength of those around me, and those above, that lift me up.

Thank you.

So much love to you all.

And Then They Sang

stephaniemoorewrites

This memory keeps coming back to me. Usually it means I need to share it.

The night that Rory passed away, Lance and I gathered our boys and went to my parent’s house.

There were a lot of people at the house. In the family room and in the front yard.

A lot of hugs.

A lot of questions.

A lot of disbelief.

A lot of sorrow.

A lot of falling tears.

In the middle of this tragedy, the three boys started to sing a children’s song from our church.

Their voices broke through the sorrow.

Their voices united them in their brotherhood. In their fear. In their strength.

As I was just trying to process what had happened. They were already searching for peace. In the best way they knew how. Music.

These are the words they sang that night:

Heavenly Father, are you really there?
And do you hear and answer ev’ry child’s prayer?
Some say that heaven is far away,
But I feel it close around me as I pray.
Heavenly Father, I remember now
Something that Jesus told disciples long ago:
“Suffer the children to come to me.”
Father, in prayer I’m coming now to thee.

Pray, he is there;
Speak, he is list’ning.
You are his child;
His love now surrounds you.
He hears your prayer;
He loves the children.
Of such is the kingdom, the kingdom of heav’n.

My boys face pain. Everyday.

The life they are living is different now. It’s harder. They carry a burden they can’t quite process and don’t fully understand.

I think back to that moment and tears instantly begin to fall.

They are light.

They are love.

These boys are my hope.