Christmas is a time for miracles.And there are few miracles as real & tangible as the birth of a child. My children are my own personal miracles, and I treasure them (along with my marriage to Bryson) more than anything on Earth. This past month I have been doing a lot of reflecting on the miracles that children bring into our lives.
I have some dear friends that have been through an emotional roller coaster as they anticipated the birth of their 5th child, a little boy. At the 20th week of pregnancy, the doctors noticed some abnormalities. There was an incredible excess of amniotic fluid. A subsequent ultrasound discovered a major heart defect that can be indicative of Down's syndrome, a mesoblastic nephroma (benign tumor) around the right kidney, and -- as if that weren't enough -- some fluid around the base of the spine, a common sign of spina bifida.
Needless to say, there were a lot of prayers said on their behalf.
As the birth approached, the family prepared for a long hospital stay, and possibly the immediate surgery of their little newborn. And just a couple short weeks ago, little Levi was born. A little miracle in every sense of the word. There was no Down's syndrome. MRI's done shortly after birth showed no signs of the kidney tumor or spinal problem-- positively baffling the doctors. There is still a heart defect, but it is something that can be addressed as the baby gets older. Only a few short days after his birth, he is home with his loving parents and four older siblings. Again, a miracle.
This announcement was still elating my heart when I heard some more tragic, heartbreaking news.
Why?
Why should one child be blessed while another is taken?
At the funeral yesterday, I was a complete mess during the service. The tears came down my face in an endless stream as I wept for my friends' loss. And I marveled at their strength. They spoke of faith and God's will as they cradled their surviving daughter, only 3 months old. They believe that Mhairi was taken because she was too perfect for this world, and that she will watch over them as a Guardian Angel. And I believe them, too.
Families are forever. That is what we believe, as Latter-Day Saints. We teach that the bonds of familial love go beyond the grave and that we will live together eternally with our Father in Heaven if we strive to live worthily. It is wonderful, comforting doctrine. And right now I find it even more so. It speaks to my soul.
While the storm may rage around us as we make our way through this life, we have hope. We have love. We have peace.
We have each other.
And so this Christmas, I find myself holding my own little miracles a little tighter. I am so grateful for the light they bring to my life. And while I pray for continued blessings on behalf of both Levi & Mhairi's families, I also pray that I can always remember to cherish my family as the singular treasure in my life.
Today in the car-- as reality was over-taking us-- I started singing in an effort to put the fighting, screaming, crying... you know, the usual-- to an end. I paused, and Reilly asked if we could sing "Families." This is her title for a song we often sing in the children's Sunday School. Her little voice rang out:
I always want to be with my own family
And the Lord has shown me how I can.
The Lord has shown me how I can.
As she finished, I luxuriated in the peaceful warmth that followed.
Bryson remarked, "I am so glad we believe what we believe."
I couldn't agree more.
Tiffany, thank you for putting into words what I couldn't. It's been an up and down December. You have such a gift for writing. I'm glad we're friends. Merry, Merry Christmas!
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