January 31, 2021 – My hope

One thing I’ve noticed since Benny passed away is how often as humans we ask each other how we’re doing. Every day, even multiple times a day, whether it be out of courtesy or sincerity, I think we all engage in conversations like this:

“How are you?”

“Good, thanks. How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

I’ve had so many people ask me how I’m doing.  Especially lately.  Honestly, I’m never quite sure what to say.  I mean, most days it can change from moment to moment, but overall I’m doing okay.  In fact, on a lot of days recently I’ve been doing pretty good.  Some days even great.  But that always takes people back when I say that.  Like I’m heartless.  Or like I don’t miss Benny.  Or like I’m not being sincere. 

I guess sometimes I’m not.  Sometimes when asked how I am, if it’s not in a situation where I feel I can get into it—or I simply just don’t want to—I answer halfheartedly and probably insincerely with “good” and leave it at that. 

But sometimes I really am good.  Most days lately I have felt good.  I sure am trying to be anyway, because I know that’s what Benny would want.  I’m not good that he’s gone.  I’m not good in a way that I don’t miss him.  Because I’m not.  And I do.  I’d give anything to have him still here with us physically.  But all things considered, I think Tom and I both are doing quite well.  Maybe even surprisingly well.

I’ve felt guilty about it though, like I should be sad or still intensely feeling the grief.  I’ve wondered if I’m being judged by people who question how on earth I can be good when I just lost a child.  But I am.  I’m good.  I have bad days.  Tough moments.  But I’m doing good.  And as I’ve thought about it more, I’ve realized it’s because I have hope.  Hope that has been nothing but strengthened since that ill-fated day in November.  The one thing that has kept me from being consumed by my grief is simply that – my hope.

But my hope isn’t in me.  My hope actually isn’t even in Benny.  It’s in the Lord.  It’s in believing with everything in me that He is everything I understand him to be.  Believing in everything my scripture study (which has been an anchor in recent months) teaches me He did.  Believing in everything He taught that He did.  Believing in everything modern-day revelation tells me He did and continues to do.  That’s where my hope lies.  Completely and entirely in Him. 

And because I have hope in Him, I have hope in so much more. 

I have hope in things I know, like that Benny is in paradise and saved through the Lord’s grace because he died as a young child.  

I have hope in things I’m still learning, like how to overcome my own weaknesses and faults so I can see my angel boy again someday. 

I have hope that the last little kiss I gave on my Benny’s forehead, right before the funeral director closed his tiny casket, isn’t the last time I’ll see his angelic face.

I have hope that because Tom and I were sealed in the temple through priesthood power, we have the opportunity to be reunited with our angel boy and the rest of our eternal family someday. 

I have hope that Benny will be a guardian angel to Isaac and Zoey and that by feeling him close, he will be more to them than just a memory. 

I have hope that even though I fall short and stumble every day, I can continue to try and be the mama that all my angel babies need and the wife that Tom deserves.

I have hope that the days will continue to get better as I rely on the Lord and yoke myself to Him and His grace.

I have hope that even on the tough days, even on the days when all I can do is fall on my knees, He will be there to pick me up and help me carry on.

I have hope that I’m strong enough to weather the storm of losing a child. 

And, I have hope that as I do, somehow I can become more like our Savior.

In my gospel study today, I came across this phrase in Isaiah 53:13, where the prophet is speaking about Jesus Christ:

“He is…a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief…”

If I could describe myself in recent months, I think it’s fair to say that I’ve been a woman of sorrows and someone acquainted with grief.  So maybe through all this – through one of the most heartbreaking losses I think we can experience as humans – somehow I’m becoming like Him.  Somehow through all this, my own experiences with sorrow and grief are acquainting me with Him.  Helping me understand Him better.  Helping me appreciate Him more.  Helping me come closer to Him in ways I couldn’t otherwise.  Helping me have hope when hope seemed lost.

Not only do I think that’s possible, but it’s exactly what’s been happening.

I still have such a long way to go – in this journey of mortal sorrows and in becoming like our Savior.  In fact, I know it will take me beyond this life.  But one thing I know for sure is that I feel a lot closer today than I did three months ago.  And that gives me hope.

Three months ago I took moments for granted.  I took time for granted.  Sadly I even think I took my sweet babies and husband for granted.  I assumed that everything would be okay as we coasted through this joyous season of life.  I assumed I’d have another moment, another day, another chance to make memories with them.  But then everything changed.  I didn’t have another day or another moment, and suddenly everything became only memories with my sweet Benny.   

Three months ago I also took for granted the healing and redeeming power of our Savior’s Atonement.  I’d felt it before in my life, and I’ve always been grateful for it, but I took for granted the incredible blessing it is and especially the blessing it is to have the knowledge and testimony of it that I do.  I took for granted the sacrifice the Savior made on my behalf as He knelt in the Garden of Gethsemane and hung on the cross at Golgotha.  I took for granted the knowledge I have that the tomb was empty that following Sunday and that our resurrected Lord lives today.  I took for granted my membership in His church.  I took for granted that I was surrounded by so many incredible, light-filled people who testify of Him in word and deed through what they do every day.  I took for granted His word in the scriptures and the ease through which I can read and access them.  I took for granted the power of prayer and the Lord’s desire to communicate with me.  I took so many things for granted. 

Not that I wasn’t grateful for these things or didn’t try to make them a part of my life, whether it be my family or my faith, but I’ve realized over the past few months just how foundational all these things are to who I am.  Because when your world turns upside down and everything falls apart, it becomes easy to recognize amongst the rubble just what your foundation is and what you have left to rebuild upon.  These things make me who I am and have held me up when the world crumbled around me, and as such they deserve more of my attention.  More of my time.  More of my energy.  More of me. 

So that’s how I’m doing and that’s where I am.  I’m resting in the things that are part of me to my core.  I’m focusing more on what matters most.  I’m strengthening where I need to and letting go of what I can.  I’m doing my best to stop taking life for granted.  And through it all, the greatest byproduct has been increasing my hope.  Increasing the happiness that I feel capable of experiencing through and after this trial.  Increasing my love of and gratitude for my Savior, who makes it all possible. 

In Him is my faith. 

In Him is my hope. 

And because I choose to focus on that, I can sincerely say that I’m doing great.