Landmarks and Angels: A Dream

Last night I dreamed of a series of months, each about four weeks long, on a calendar. The goal of each week was to get through that week toward the end result of being changed. It's difficult to describe such an abstract dream--only that the feeling of hope and excitement and striving stayed with me.

At its core, the strange dream was about earth life and progress. My hopes were about improving myself and helping others to progress as well. I think I was experiencing also the hopes of guardian angels on my behalf. They had goals--benchmarks, or maybe more aptly, landmarks--for me to reach so I would be on track for my destination, for my destiny.

Though this may sound self-centered, it was the opposite. I understood in this dream that my progress was tied up with the progress of those around me, and we were all connected--me and the angels and all the people in the world. Specifically, it mattered to my family what changes in myself I accomplished with the help of these angels, but others were affected, too... ripples.

Abigail first taught me the lesson of ripples, how even something seemingly small or brief in duration could send out life-altering and hugely influential ripples. We think of a baby as being helpless, powerless. But Abigail came with power, healing, and forgiveness.

Last night before I went to sleep, my tired mind slipped into thoughts of despair for my long human life. I've been reading made-up stories about immortals and thinking about the more difficult parts of life--the pain and the mundanity. I tried not to let those thoughts be my last thoughts before bed. Using all my practice in controlling my own mood and thoughts, I forced them into a hopeful direction. I remembered my cousin's dream, which she shared with me, of our blissful reunion with Abigail as a young girl in heaven. And I let myself feel hope for that blessed day--that long-awaited reunion.

It was enough.

Miracles and Messages: A Butterfly From Abigail

Look at this sweet butterfly I found in the memorial garden we are making for Abigail! It was covered in soil but is quite beautiful after being cleaned off.

While picking up a refrigerator part in Nephi with Bill at the local hardware store, I also bought several packets of flower seeds to add to Abigail's garden.

Right away when we got home, I started planting. I don't know which of these are really supposed to be planted in early spring, but I am impatient to get flowers going in Abigail's garden. I thought I needed to have a little gardening fork, so I walked around the side of the house, thinking about the gardening fork. I laughed when the one that matched the image in my mind materialized on the ground in front of me as a plastic children's toy. That'll work, I thought. I picked up the plastic gardening fork and clawed at the moist soil, so enriched by the winter snows and recent rains. The topsoil came loose easily, and I planted the seeds in various places around the garden. As I prepared to deposit the chamomile seeds beside our Angel Face rose bush, the gardening fork caught on something. At first it was just a clump of metal covered in soil, so I didn't realize how special it was until it flipped over and I saw its shape. It was a butterfly. How sweet is this?

After my post about trying to find a new normal and being like a new butterfly, it seemed especially special. I put it with my special amaryllis that bloomed so beautifully while we were waiting for Abigail to make her appearance on earth, so it's there in my window sill.

I can't wait to see which flowers come up in our special Abigail garden!

Last week we received the photo CD and 4x6 prints of the pictures Common Bonds took for us on the day Abigail passed. There are so many heart-rending photos of her sweet feet adorned with our wedding rings or of Bill holding me up as I stood for the first time after a day and night in the ICU. Some of them are too personal to share. 

But there are also family photos that I had been waiting on. I cannot wait to hang the one with all eight of us together. It is going on a prominent wall in the living room which will be filled with family pictures. Right now there are only paintings. This is the one we decided to blow up on canvas.

And we ordered a smaller one of this one, with just Bill, me, and Abigail.

Costco is having a 20% off deal for canvas prints right now, so that's a sweet deal. I wish we could print all of the pictures on canvas because there are so many beautiful ones. This one of me with my only daughter is very special to my heart.

We are just so blessed to have these photos to remember this precious part of our eternal family. Finding that butterfly today made me feel connected to her, like she is aware of our efforts to remember her and keep her in our hearts. I know as we stay open to these messages and miracles, we will continue to feel this connection with her throughout our lives until we get to rejoin her with God.

Hope, Not What I Thought it Meant

Source: https://pixabay.com/photos/hands-open-candle-candlelight-1926414/

I used to hope that my sister would miraculously survive. Now I know that that is not what I should be hoping for. Now I hope that Abby will help our family become spiritually stronger. 

I did a short study on the word "hope".

In 2 Nephi 31:20 it says:

"...press forward, having a perfect brightness of hope..."

That scripture teaches me that if you lose everything, you can still have hope, and if you have hope, you have faith, and if you have faith,  you have God,  if you have God, you have everything you need.

Hope can also be defined as "a feeling of expectation and desire for something certain to happen."

I used a search engine that shows the origin of certain words. I looked up "hope" and this is what I found:

"Some suggest a connection with hop....on the notion of 'leaping in expectation' [Klein]."

"Late old English hopa 'confidence in the future,' especially 'God or Christ as a basis for hope,'..." 

There is also "Old Frisian and Middle Dutch hope, Danish haab, [and] Dutch hoop"

I also realized that "hope" sounded like "hoop" since the formal is eternal and can never be taken from you.

I also like the explanation hop for "leaping in expectation" listed above.

Words that are similar to hope are faith and trust (but not pixiedust!).

Here is a quote that I found:

The people of the Earth Kingdom are proud and strong. They can endure anything, as long as they have hope.

-Prince Zuko; Avatar, The Last Airbender 

Now I see that I was hoping for the wrong thing. I now know what the true meaning is. I know that Abigail and I will see each other again. I hope that she helps my family to be worthy enough for the Savior's return.

A birth plan, a funeral program, and hope

It's Sunday again, and we are 36 weeks along. Friday was Valentine's Day so Daniel (5) has valentines on the mind. He made this little heart during church and said, "This is for Abigail." 

It's moments like this that I remember how incredibly blessed we have been as a family. When we announced our pregnancy to the kids, they were all excited because they love babies. It's precious to my heart that they see a new addition to the family as cause for celebration.

We were all hoping for a girl, but the boys were the most vocal about it. Sad to say, it might be partially because of well-meaning friends and strangers saying things that make them feel incomplete without a sister, like, "Are you hoping for a sister this time?"

Even after we broke the news that Abigail would ultimately become an angel for our family, the level of enthusiasm for Abigail hasn't diminished. Finally, they have a sister. And even though she isn't staying long, she will always be their sister. They know we get to keep her forever. I'm grateful for that sure knowledge.

This afternoon we put the finishing touches on our birth plan and printed a few copies so the whole birth team can be on the same page. Once that was done, we worked a little while on the funeral program and I asked my parents to sing one of my favorite songs for the event. All of this while Abigail Réileen makes her presence felt with kicks and punches in my tummy. I love her so much already, we all do.

The guiding principle of our home right now is hope. We know what can and probably will go wrong when Abigail is born. There is no false hope, but there's a kind of hope nevertheless. It's a hope that is born of our love for her.

We hope everyone will get to meet her who needs to, and that we will be able to make memories with her after her birth.

We hope to celebrate her life with music and prayer and poetry.

We hope she will always have a place in our family and never be forgotten.

We hope that knowing her and loving her changes us in all the ways she would have it do.

We hope this difficult goodbye brings all of us closer together.

We hope in Christ we shall all be reunited in a higher, holier sphere where none are sick or wounded and all are restored to perfect health.

I have struggled against hope throughout this journey, this past week especially. I have cried and cried out because the waiting seems unbearable. Not this waiting for her birth, but the promise of more waiting after her death. I have wondered aloud to my husband how I can go on after such heartache. 

In answer, I have heard the voice of God saying, "Live for the Lord," and I have been humbled because I am a selfish creature. I always think I know what's best.

Remember the painting of the pioneer woman that takes up an entire wall in the Payson temple?

I told how I had heard the hymn in my head before realizing the painting's title was from that hymn: "Blessed, Honored Pioneer." Today I went to church and the opening hymn happened to be this song, titled, "They, the Builders of the Nation," Hymn #36 in the LDS Hymnal. Each verse's chorus is slightly different but ends with the line, "Blessed, honored pioneer." No wonder I had thought it was the hymn's title. As we sang it today, I realized that I revere my pioneer ancestors exactly for the incredible faith they showed while suffering the deaths of so many beloved friends and family members, while facing death themselves. And I realized that to future generations, we are the pioneers. Suddenly the song became a call to action for me, like the words I had almost seen in my mind's eye written on my bedroom wall: "Live for the Lord."

My eyes went to the bottom of the hymnal page and I knew I had to read the scripture associated with the hymn.

It is Doctrine & Covenants 64: 33-34

I couldn't help the tears that formed in my eyes. This must have been a scripture that gave comfort to my ancestors. They had to have been so tired of being persecuted, driven from place to place, and despised wherever they went. They had to have been weary of the daily work that never seemed to be enough, while many of them lost their children or husbands or wives to mob violence, disease, exposure and hunger as they crossed the plains.

In the super convenient modern world, I had found myself complaining to my husband that I am tired. And I am. I am so tired. But there is no way I could be more world-weary than they were.

"Be not weary in well doing, for ye are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great."

Abigail is a very small thing. She is tiny. But she has carved out a large space in our hearts that drives us to be more than we were, to be worthy to see her again. And that is a great thing.

Verse 34 reminded me of the message I felt like I heard or saw, to "Live for the Lord."

"Behold, the Lord requireth the heart and a willing mind." It ends with the promise of good things to those who give their all.

There's another scripture that comes to my heart as I ponder on these things: D&C 122:8

"The Son of Man hath descended below them all. Art thou greater than He?"

Of course, even these gifts of understanding don't make me totally okay or past my grief. In fact, sometimes they are met at first with bitterness. But I can't deny they are gifts. They are the grace that is sufficient to the day. They teach me line upon line and give me strength to take the next steps in my life. They give me that precious ingredient for a life of joy:

Hope.