Faith

Is faith conditional?

We prayed and prayed for a righteous desire. We are good parents and wanted so badly to have this cherished daughter in our arms. It would've been so easy for our Savior to heal her.

But He didn't.

So is my faith gone? Because I prayed for something and it didn't happen, do I lose all hope and trust in Heavenly Father's plan? Do I think to myself, prayers don't work?

No.

Faith is not conditional. I need my Savior now more than ever. Without Him, I am nothing. Without Him, my Molly would not have the opportunity to be resurrected. I still have faith that she could've been saved, if it were part of the plan.

All I have is my faith. Faith in my Savior. Faith that He will continue to lift me. Faith in my Heavenly Father's plan for me. Faith that we truly will see Molly again, and eventually be all together as a family.

We arrive at the cemetery. The clouds in the sky threaten to release their built up moisture. I almost wish they would. It would be as if the heavens are crying with me.

We park and get out of the car. Again, Tyler takes Molly in both arms, and we slowly walk to the tent the mortuary has set up.

We all sit together and listen to Tyler dedicate her grave. His emotion is raw.

Afterwards, we go through the motions and thank everyone for coming. We take pictures. We give hugs and send people on their way. And I feel numb.

We aren't burying her today. We couldn't get a permit in time because of the holiday. So the burial is going to be on Tuesday. I wish we could lay her to rest today. I don't want to wait.

Suddenly, I want to go home and sleep.

But we all drive back to the church to enjoy a meal that the sweet Relief Society has put together. After eating and visiting with our dear family and friends, I am exhausted.

We pull into our driveway at home. I don't want to go in, but I don't want to stay in the car. I don't want to see my family, but I want them to envelop me in their love. I sit there and ponder these strange feelings of not knowing what to do.

I think of Molly all alone in her "basket" and my milk comes down. The sorrow hits me again with tremendous force and I don't think I can take it.

With every last ounce of energy, I get out of the car and slowly put one swollen foot in front of the other. Entering the house, I'm shocked to feel a sliver of peace enter my heart. I collapse on the couch and spend the rest of the night visiting with my family. They take turns sitting by me, massaging my swollen feet. I look at my sausage toes and realize they must really love me. Even my 22 year old brother lovingly applies lotion on my puffy feet and rubs away the ache.

Now it's time for bed. After praying with Tyler, I set my alarm for my pain meds and slip in between the sheets.

I ponder everything that has just happened. I'm so exhausted, I can't even cry.

I fall asleep that night holding Tyler's hand, thinking about what it means to have unconditional faith.