Christmas Eve

It's Christmas Eve. And my Molly has been gone for over a month.

It is a very peaceful evening. We order take-out Chinese food, our new Christmas Eve tradition (thanks Aunt Deb)! As we sit around the fire tonight, I can feel Molly with us. Lucie and Brigham feel it too. I hold them close and they tell me how they miss her. 

Then Brigham says, "She's with Jesus right?"

The innocent comment from my 3 year old pierces my heart. Here we are celebrating the birth of our Savior. And our Molly is celebrating in His presence. The thought warms my heart.

Brigham pipes up again, "So if Molly is with Jesus, then why are we sad?"

What a perspective! There is something so good and pure about children. I look at my kids and am again struck by how amazing they are. I need to tell them more often.

After putting the cookies out for Santa, we quiet the giggles and wipe sticky fingers. Shutting the door to their bedroom, I am overcome by a need to go into Molly's room. I open her door and glance inside.

Oh, oh my sweet baby girl.

I enter and close the door behind me. The peace that fills my soul is indescribable. Amazing. I hesitantly move to her crib and look inside. It's amazing how fast feelings can change. As soon as I see her blankets, I feel my knees buckle. I slowly pull out all of her pictures and momentos from the hospital.

Oh my heart.

I go to the floor and the tears start coming. 

Every tear is filled with the utmost love and longing for my little one. I hold the dress she wore and breathe in her sweet smell. I finger the blanket that wrapped her tiny frame and wonder if my heart will truly burst. I open the little box the nurses put together for me. I take everything out, one by one, from her inked footprints with "Molly Faith" printed on the top, right down to her bum paste. And every emotion hits me in fierce waves. 

I walk over to the rocking chair and place myself tenderly in "our" spot. This was supposed to be our place, a place I hoped to nurse, rock, snuggle, read books, and bond, just the two of us.

As I sit there rocking, I let the tears flow. The song "silent night" comes to my head:

Silent night! Holy night!

All is calm all is bright

Round yon virgin mother and child

Holy infant so tender and mild

Sleep in heavenly peace!

Sleep in heavenly peace!

Oh my heart! Molly is with HIM! And she is sleeping in heavenly peace. 

A sweet calm overcomes me just as Tyler comes through the door.

We fall into each other's arms and hold tight. We want our Molly here with us. But if we can't have her here right now, at least she is forever with her Savior.

And we'll join her someday.

My Sweet Forever

Our Forever Family

first church outing

Molly passed away two weeks ago and I am at church. My kids are dressed, hair combed. I think their shoes even match. :) After Sacrament meeting, I walk over to chat with a few women and almost feel "normal".

But then a woman cheerfully turns to me and says, "Isn't it great this life is so short? You'll be with your Molly in no time!"

The comment, although meant well, hits me like a ton of bricks.

I'm instantly crying and I rush from the building. I go to my car and sit there sobbing. I pound my fists on the steering wheel and let it all out. I'm sure if anyone saw me they would think, 'who is this crazy person?'

I am there for a long time thinking and pondering.

Am I weak? Do I not have an eternal perspective? Do I believe the things I've been taught, or don't I?

I suddenly remember a very dear friend who gave me some advice. She said, "Give yourself permission to be sad." She didn't try to cheer me up. She didn't say, "Don't be sad! You'll see her again!" She simply said, "Be sad." Thinking about this simple comment, I breathe a deep sigh of relief.

Yes, my family is sealed. Yes, I'll be with my Molly again. Yes, this life is short in the eternal scheme of things. But that knowledge doesn't take away the pain I feel right now.

And it's OK to be sad. It's OK to mourn and cry.

I wipe my tears and look in the rearview mirror. Oh dear, splotch city. I do my best to make myself look half-way normal and decide to go back in.

As I enter the building, I walk a little taller.

My traveler

As I sit here and write this post, my dear friend is dying. She will soon be with her Savior. I sat with her last week and we shared many things which I cannot write. I left feeling an immense love for her and for my Savior.

It has been a very emotional few days for me as I wait for the news. Then I started thinking about the road our lives take. 

Each road is different. Some end early, a sudden and halting dead end. Some have twists and turns, bumps and bends. Some are so rocky, they are unrecognizable. Some have inclines, others have steep hills. But all are different. 

As we take our own separate roads, we come across people who are set in our path. These people come into our lives for different reasons, but there is always a purpose. 

This dear friend of mine is one of the travelers on my road of life. She walked beside me for a short time, a time when I needed her as much as she needed me. My life took a drastic detour and she was there for me. We were set in each other's paths for a specific reason. We both learned things from each other that we couldn't possibly have gotten from anywhere else. 

It is not by happenstance that we have these "angels" in our lives. Our Heavenly Father works in mysterious ways. He helps us through the hands of another, of that I am sure.

I know that my Molly will be there waiting for my friend. She will give her a big hug and they will love each other even as I do. 

Then we will all have an eternity to be together. The plan of happiness is a beautiful thing. 

As our Savior takes my friend into His all encompassing arms, she will know that she has arrived at the end of her road, and that it has led to a joyful end.