Tag: hard things

My Heavenly Father Loves Me

stephaniemoorewrites

From a very young age, we ask why.

It’s a question that gets asked over and over again.

I think it’s human nature. We want to find meaning. We want explanations.

When something painful, something horrible happens, we want meaning. We want purpose.

It can’t happen for nothing.

This pain.

This suffering.

There has to be a reason for it.

I’ve heard reasons for Rory’s passing. There are a lot of platitudes out there that try to give meaning.

But here’s the problem with all the reasons.

Rory is still gone.

Reasons can’t bring her back.

And that’s all I want.

I want my daughter.

But.

Resignation.

That’s not going to happen in this life.

I can’t answer why.

I don’t have reasons. (Other than a malfunctioning appendix.)

But.

I’m a woman of faith.

This is what I know.

This has been the answer to my life-long search.

That continues to be my answer.

I have a Heavenly Father that loves me.

Not having answers is painful.

But I feel God’s love for me.

My anxiety rises as the questions swirl.

I cling to the knowledge so tight, I know God loves me.

I don’t have all the answers. I don’t even know how I’m going to get through everyday.

But I do know that I have someone in my corner. Someone that cares for me. Someone that looks out for me. Someone that makes sure I’m not doing this all by myself.

I know that my Heavenly Father loves me.

Where are your shoes?

stephaniemoorewrites

I think we can agree as moms that shoes are our nemesis.

The kids never know where they are. They take them off in different places. They thought they knew where they were. But then can’t remember where the shoes are when it’s time to go somewhere.

When I was packing up our master bedroom at the old house, I looked under our bed. I found a pair of Rory’s shoes.

Lost shoes.

I remember thinking at the time, this is the last time I’m going to find her shoes. They won’t be laying around our new house.

I hugged them to my body. Those little shoes. For my little girl. With her cute crooked toes.

Fast forward time, I walked into our closet and saw the box of decorations from Rory’s funeral service. Lots of pretty purple banners.

I lifted them out.

And there was a pair of Rory’s shoes. I’d forgotten about them. Lost.

I found Rory’s shoes one last time. In our new house.

Miracles

stephaniemoorewrites

I watched an uplifting show this morning. It talked about “champions.”

One of the stories was about a young man that was in an accident. He was very badly hurt. In a coma for weeks.

People prayed around the clock for him.

The family held onto their faith in God.

The boy miraculously awoke. Not without struggles, but he awoke.

These “champion” stories get forwarded on social media. They get talked about on television.

These are miraculous stories of people that have overcome.

I would NEVER want a different outcome for them. I cried tears of gratitude with those parents that got to hug their son again.

That isn’t our story.

Ours isn’t the easy story to forward on.

Our story is loss.

But our story isn’t without faith and miracles either.

It’s a miracle our house sold 3 days before Rory passed away. We would have been frozen with grief to make decisions. And we were still there surrounded by those that knew and loved her and us.

It’s a miracle we found the house we did. We weren’t even looking in the Lehi area for a long time. We were directed to this neighborhood, full of loving and compassionate people.

It was a miracle she passed away in my arms. With her illness, she could have passed away silently in her sleep. Instead, I got to love her and hold her until the moment she left this world.

It’s a miracle that our family functions. There have so many days and weeks when I haven’t had energy. When I have felt the weight so heavily on my shoulders. I couldn’t get by without the miraculous help of my Heavenly Father. The pain is too all encompassing.

These are not the miracles I would have wanted. I want my daughter with me.

I miss her.

I love her.

Ours isn’t a story for Rory to overcome. It’s the story for all the rest of us left behind to overcome.

And there have been miracles.

WIFYR: Rory Ann Moore Scholarship for Teens

stephaniemoorewrites

I help with a writing conference that happens every June, Writing and Illustrating for Young Readers. It’s an incredible conference and has introduced me to so many amazing people.

A few years ago the conference head and dear friend, Carol Lynch Williams and I talked about having a workshop for teens. I loved the idea! All the writers at the conference write for children so to have a class dedicated to encouraging teens in their own writing pursuits seemed perfect.

It didn’t work out, until last year.

We had our first teen class!

And it was 100% on scholarship!

Carol and I worked on the class together and it was a success.

Unknown to me, the WIFYR committee named the scholarship in Rory’s honor.

It was so special to me.

The conference committee and the attendees have become a big extended family to me throughout the last few years.

And to honor my daughter in such a special way, in a cause that’s so close to my heart. It was amazing.

I love you, my writing family!

If you know a high schooler that’s serious about writing, please encourage them to apply. This is such an amazing opportunity!

https://www.wifyr.com/scholarship-for-teens/

Happening Too Fast

stephaniemoorewrites

In our church, the children’s program goes until the age of 12 then kids go into a young women or young men program.

The change over happens in January.

Today, we no longer have kids in the children’s program.

It’s hard to stomach.

It would have happened eventually. I know. But it shouldn’t be happening now.

I don’t have “children” anymore. I have three young men.

And I love my young men.

I love our friendships.

But I miss my baby girl. My little lady.