Emotions are draining.
So tiring.
The 13th was exhausting.
But.
In the middle of the day. I was sitting in the chair that I rocked all four of my babies with.
I had a sense of peace roll over me. A lift of my burden. For a few seconds.
In the year, this has only happened twice. Each time for only seconds.
I know it was the wave of good thoughts, of prayers, of love being sent our way.
Thank you.
Love you.
She was placed in my arms,
The moment she was born.
I rocked her in my arms,
When she needed to sleep.
I held her in my arms,
When she was hurt.
I cuddled her in my arms,
When she awoke in the mornings.
I squeezed her in my arms,
When she ran to me after school.
I kissed her while in my arms,
Almost every day of her life.
I carried her in my arms,
As she passed away from this life.
I have emptier arms now,
As she’s no longer here.
But she left my arms,
To be enveloped in His.
Now, I’ll fill my arms,
With those that she loved.
Until my arms surround,
Her once again.
Rory had a wonderful 3rd Grade teacher, Mrs. Bohls. She loved Rory. I could tell from our first conversations and emails.
After Rory’s passing, I had a few opportunities to talk with her, mourn with her.
One of the times she said something that has stuck with me. It was something like, when I get to Heaven, I’m going to ask God, why her. Because, “We need more kids like Rory in this world.”
Rory wasn’t a perfect child. She required patience. But she had two characteristics that were amazing:
She forgave readily.
She apologized quickly.
When she would accidentally hurt someone, she would repeat, “I’m sorry.” She wasn’t prideful, she wanted to make things better. And she didn’t want the other person to be in pain.
There was a time that Rory was going out to play with a friend. As Rory was leaving, she said, “I hope she uses nice words with me.” The last time Rory had played with this friend, the girl wasn’t the nicest. But Rory didn’t hold it against her. She forgave. She was weary, but forgave her.
Rory still loved her friend.
That’s what happens when you forgive and apologize quickly.
You love. Christ-like love.
I want to love like Rory, so there’s another “Rory” in this world.
A couple of things happened in the summer of 2017.
The house market was up in our area. So my parents decided they were going to sell their house. (We were backyard neighbors.)
Lance got a new job that allowed him to work from home most of the time.
With those two items I told Lance, let’s sell our house and move closer to where our son’s gym. (His gym was an hour drive each way.)
In July we put the for sale sign out.
Then I got this feeling that I needed to put the kids in school across town. The thought was overwhelming.
If our house didn’t sell that would mean a 45 minute drive to and from school. Every day. And that didn’t count our gymnastics driving.
I decided if all the kids got into a charter school, we’d take the leap.
They all got in.
Then I thought this will be good. I’ll get Rory settled into school. Change is hard with AD/HD and anxiety. It’ll be good not to change schools mid year.
She has an IEP. It’ll be good to get that started at the beginning of the year and start working with her teacher.
Other than the 4 to 7 hours a day I was spending in the van, it was a great school.
But I felt like the move was for Rory.
November 10th we sold our house. My parents sold their house. We put a house across town under contract. We were moving at the beginning of December!
November 13th Rory passed away.
Then on November 20th when the boys went back to school, I discovered the real reason for the school switch that summer.
The boys wouldn’t be switching schools weeks after their sister died.
The school administrators rallied around them. One was a counselor before being a principal so he talked with me frequently.
Their teachers cared!
Not only about them but our whole family.
There wasn’t one more change in a life that already felt impossible for the boys.
I’m so grateful for that inspiration. And that we listened.
At our church the children, ages 3-11, participate in program where they sing and speak for the congregation.
It’s easily one of the favorite Sundays all year long for a lot people.
This year it was harder.
It was our first without Rory.
Our last one for any of our kids. Dax turns 12 in January.
The children’s leaders were very thoughtful, knowing it would be emotional for us.
Each of the kids wore a purple ribbon. And they placed flowers where, what would have been, Rory’s class sat. In memory of her. For love of her. And us.
I loved watching Dax sing his best. His loudest. He enjoys singing.
They sang a song I didn’t know, He Lives and He Loves Me.
“…
He lives and He loves me.
I will not forget who I am.
I will strive to remember His plan for me.
I will love.
I will serve in my time here on Earth.
And someday I will return to Him.
He will bless me and guide me.
He lives and He loves me.”
This song encompasses so much of my daily mantras.
He lives so Rory lives.
She’s happy.
God hasn’t forsaken you. He blesses you. He loves you. Keep going. People need you.
Love as Rory loved. She loved always and freely. Do the same.
Here is a link to the song:
Rory Ann Moore Foundation 