Tag: Jesus Christ

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.

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.

The Christmas Story

stephaniemoorewrites

For Christmas, Lance and I got the boys nerf guns. We thought it’d be a fun thing for them to do in the winter months.

After we opened presents, we were all sitting around chatting and we started an impromptu nerf gun war.

It was fun.

For those few minutes I felt freely happy.

Not “put a smile on my face.”

Not hyphenated happy.

Freely happy.

Then I got shot in the eye.

As I laid there holding my eye, I thought, I’m not allowed to be freely happy anymore. That part of my life is obviously done.

If I feel freely happy then it’ll cause physical pain, mental pain, or emotional pain. It’s just not in the cards for me.

I was thinking about it more as I sat in the ER with my mom. Then throughout the rest of the day.

At the end of the night, the seven of us made goals of service and love that we can do throughout this year.

This is mine: to be freely happy with my family.

It’s not an easy goal because if I’m trying, then it’s putting a smile on my face.

Instead, I’m going to try in live in the moment more.

I’m going to put myself in more situations with them that I can let go. That I won’t feel so hyphenated. If only for a few minutes.

I want my boys to have more than a hyphenated mom.

I’m realistic. I don’t think I’ll experience it daily or weekly or probably even monthly. But experiencing it five times in 2019 will be more times than I experienced it this year.

That’s a win.

That’s starting to live a Rory life-loving life.

Christmas Eve Story

stephaniemoorewrites

My mom and I were talking about something new for me to read to my boys and nephews this Christmas Eve. I want something that not only acknowledges the grief but gives the boys an activity to include Rory in our celebration. So I wrote this:

A Brother’s Christmas Note

Time has ticked by.

Second by second.

I’ve waited and waited.

Sometimes patient, sometimes not.

But it’s here.

It’s finally here.

Christmas Day.

I run to the tree.

My eyes wide open.

I see my name on presents.

Picking one up, I give it a shake.

I dash to the fireplace.

Our stockings filled to the brim.

Except one.

I touch my sister’s.

She’s no longer here.

I leave hers hanging and take mine to the couch.

It’s not long before the rest of the family trickles in.

My brothers.

My mom.

My dad.

We sit in a circle,

Like we do every year.

Each opening a present.

Cars.

Games.

Toys.

Clothes.

We each pick our favorite,

And open it up.

I pick my new car.

On my knees, I race it across the room.

Zooming it into the fireplace.

I look up, one stocking still hangs.

Taking it down, I gaze around.

She can’t play with toys.

She can’t enjoy candy.

What can I put in her stocking?

I find a paper and pen to write a note.

“Baby Sister,

I will give mom a kiss for you.”

I place it in her stocking.

Happy, it’s no longer empty.

Dad followed me over,

“Can I see what you did?”

I nod and he reads.

With eyes filled with tears, Dad announces,

“Each of us will give service to your sister this year.”

Handing out more paper and pens.

We each write one down.

Giving love.

Giving care.

Her stocking is fuller than any of ours today.

She is our family’s angel.

We realize.

We know.

And this is our Christmas miracle:

She is here.

I can feel her

In each hug,

In each kiss.

She is a part of our family,

Part of our love,

And because of Jesus Christ,

Our love has no end.

Because of Jesus Christ,

We’ll be with her again.

 

Thank you for loving us. Caring for us. Praying for us.

I wish you all so much happiness and light.

I love you. We love you.

Merry Christmas. 💜

Wish It Hadn’t Come to Me

stephaniemoorewrites

Our family has been watching Lord of the Rings to prepare for a LOTR Trivial Pursuit showdown.

When we were watching Fellowship, a couple of lines stuck out to me this time.

Frodo says, “I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.”

Gandalf says, “So do all who live to see such times. But it is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.”

I feel that. I say that. I wish. I really, really wish this had never happened to me. I wish she had never gotten sick. I wish she was still cuddled by my side.

But I have no power. It wasn’t my decision.

The power I have, the decision I GET to make is what I do now and for the rest of my life.

I feel this tug quite a bit. This pull of a rope attached to my back. Inching me toward anger, confusion, and despair.

There are times the pull knocks me off my feet and drags me along.

If I’m being completely honest, sometimes it feels easier to let go and skid across the ground. To allow my head to be clouded and my heart to harden.

But it’s not what I want.

So I dig my heels in. I flex my muscles and I do whatever I can to not move that way.

Because the other side of those emotions are love, peace, and hope.

These emotions, though harder to reach at times, don’t drag me. They lift me. They don’t pull me along. They carry me.

When I clear my head and allow myself to be carried by love, I feel closer to Rory.

She was and is love.

When I let go of questions, my why’s, and allow peace into my life, I feel the Spirit. I know I’m not forgotten. I get a reassurance that I’m going to be with her again.

Allowing me to taste the peace she has found.

When I can let go of the despair that tugs at me, hope lives. Hope thrives. Heavenly Father is hope. Jesus Christ is hope. When I focus on them, I feel hope.

I feel hope for her.

For me.

For us.