Today my Benny insights came in two ways – during a walk (well, a rather intense hike up a mountain) and during my gospel study. I feel like my walks with Benny and then recording them give me so much peace, and that same peace often also comes when doing my gospel study. It’s been interesting to me to connect feeling close to Benny with the very activity we were doing when we could have been potentially saving him, but somehow the Lord is good and I’ve found it’s a sacred time for me to be with my sweet boy. I’m grateful for the insights both activities gave me today – there were a lot and I’m glad to be able to capture and hopefully make some sense of them here.
During my gospel study, I was reading in John chapter 11, which tells of the death and miraculous raising of Lazarus. This chapter understandably resonates with me more now. Two things from this story stood out to me as I read this morning and which I feel helped give me some important perspective to my own situation and the loss of our angel boy.
First, in John 11:6, we read that the Savior learned Lazarus was ill, but He didn’t go to him right away. He stayed where He was for a few more days before going to see His friend. That’s because healing Lazarus before he died was not the plan. The Savior likely knew that more people would believe in His divine mission and be converted to His gospel if Lazarus was raised from the dead. This reminded me of our sweet Benny. We didn’t get the promptings to save him before he died. Him living was not the plan. And, I think it may be because people will be more impacted by his sweet life as he does his work on the other side and as we try to live up to his example and honor his memory here. In verse 4, the Savior even says that Lazarus’ affliction is for the glory of God. We want it to be the same for Benny. From our mortal perspectives, it doesn’t necessarily make sense, and we’re still so very sad. We miss our angel boy more than words can express, just as Mary and Martha missed their brother. But, this story reminded me today that the Lord has a bigger plan for each of us, that doesn’t always include providing a miracle before the tragedy, but through His mercy and grace, He will somehow make all our experiences work together for our good.
Second, in John 11:5, the apostle poignantly mentions the Savior’s love for Mary, Martha, and Lazarus. Lazarus’ sickness and death didn’t happen because the Savior didn’t love them, or they weren’t righteous, or they were doing something wrong. No, there was just a bigger plan. This is something I’ve wondered about in our situation. Was I doing something wrong as Benny’s mom? Was I not trying hard enough to live my beliefs? Was I not righteous enough? Did the Lord not love me? Benny was so special – did I not deserve to raise him? Was I not good enough? Goodness, the flood of emotions in my mama heart as I’ve thought about these questions and more over the last two weeks has been overwhelming. But today as I read and studied the story of Martha and Mary, I realized that no, Benny didn’t die because the Lord doesn’t love him, or me, or Tom, or because we weren’t doing what was right. It happened because the Lord DOES love us and has a bigger plan for all of us. A plan that will help us learn and grow and become more like Him. It’s still painful, and it’s hard for me to understand it all now, but I definitely believe it to be true and I’m finding myself more and more grateful for that every day. And more and more grateful to have the Lord’s word to read from and gain strength and perspective.
While on our hike today (which I had planned to be my walk with Benny) there were so many ideas that flooded my mind. Some of them were realizations, and others I feel were messages from our angel boy. I love being able to feel him close. Even if it’s all in my mind, it truly brings me peace to feel like he’s close to me and encouraging me to keep going, whether it’s processing through tears and pain or climbing a mountain.
Oftentimes when I hike, I look at the ground. I’m always nervous of tripping and falling, so I keep my eyes glued to the ground so I can watch every step. Today I was doing just that, but at one point I felt Benny tell me, “Look up, mom!” I did and saw the most incredible view. The hike we did (Camelback Mountain in Arizona) had beautiful views all along the way. Views I would have missed had I been looking down. I was grateful my sweet boy reminded me to look up and enjoy the surroundings, and I was especially grateful I was prompted to look up later on the trail when I would likely have missed a few big rocks or thorny plants. Look up. Such excellent and needed advice. Look up to enjoy the scenery. Look up to appreciate the light. Look up to the Lord and find peace. Thanks for the reminder, my angel boy.
Today’s hike was hard. Genuinely hard for me. It was fairly short (only about 3 miles roundtrip), but the elevation gain was significant for that short of a distance – over 1,200 feet. We knew the elevation gain before we went, so we expected it would be a steep hike and that was fine. What we didn’t realize though was that the majority of our hike would be scrambling over boulders because there was no actual path. It was intense, and for someone who is paralyzingly afraid of heights, it was certainly more mentally challenging for me than physically. As I was on the verge of tears at one point (because honestly, they come without warning these days), I felt my sweet boy encourage me, “Don’t focus on how hard it is because that will actually make it harder. Focus on how awesome it is that you took the next step!” Again, thank you Benny Boy for the reminder. I then started focusing on how awesome it was that I could use my body in such a way and take the next step after the next step, and as my angel boy knew, somehow it did make it easier.
When we arrived at the top, my heart soared a bit as I took in the accomplishment. The view was breathtaking and I was grateful we’d challenged ourselves (well, really myself) to make it to the top. I then had a tender moment where I feel Benny told me, “Good job, mom. I knew you could do it. You’re stronger than you think.” Fortunately, I think he’s right on this one, too. I do think I’m probably stronger than I think. I sure haven’t felt strong lately though. Anything but, actually. I feel like I’ve had to rely on people for so many things, and it’s been hard for me to do. I feel like I’m an emotional wreck and a continuous ball of emotion and tears. And yet, somehow I’m making it through. I was glad to be reminded of that today. Just like on the mountain, one step at a time, we’re making it through. I’m making it through. I may not see it now, but when I get to the top of this mountain (whenever that is) I hope to be able to look back and, like Benny, realize I’m stronger than I thought.
Speaking of the top of the mountain though, another thing I realized today was “what goes up, must come down.” When we were bouldering over the rocks on our way to the top, when my fear was taking hold and I was afraid I was going to slip and get seriously hurt, it was not lost on me that we would soon have to climb right back down those same, steep rocks. And that coming down may actually prove more difficult. It was then I realized that as much as I wanted to get to the top of the mountain, that wouldn’t be the end of the journey. As much as I want to move forward from this experience of losing our boy, that won’t be the end of my journey. Even if I get to a point where I’m able to fully function again and the pain of losing Ben doesn’t consume and overwhelm me, there will still be a mountain to climb down. Thankfully today the descent did prove to be a little easier than the ascent, which is usually the case with hikes, but that didn’t mean there weren’t challenging parts. I keep thinking (and probably hoping) that at some point, I’ll feel like I summited this mountain of grief and be able to just coast down the other side. But today I was reminded that won’t be the case. Things may get easier, but there will still be tough times. Instead of this discouraging me though, I think it actually strengthens me. It encourages me to know that there is no summit to reach, no goal that I need to accomplish before everything is just all better. Right now I’m headed up the crazy steep rocks of our loss and constantly feeling like I may just fall. But, just as with the hike today, climbing up has the potential for the same incredible views as climbing down. There is beauty in it all, if we are willing to look for it.
In fact, another thing I noticed today was that the beauty and safe moments of our hike came more from the rough, challenging rocks than the smooth ones. The smooth ones offered no support or anything to grip or step on, while the bumpy, uneven rocks provided foot holds, and hand holds, and a safe place to step or hold on. I wonder if that’s how this experience will be for me. Things definitely feel bumpy, and rough, and challenging right now – anything but smooth and pretty. But maybe this is what I need to get to the top. I couldn’t have made it to the top today with only the smooth rocks. Maybe the Lord knows I can’t make it to the top (figuratively) without some rough rocks along my way. I’m grateful for that reminder today and that we need both, and especially the unpleasant looking rocks, in order to make our way safely as we climb.
Two final things that I felt today, in likening my physical climb to the emotional climb I’ve been experiencing, were that I’m grateful to those who have gone before, but everyone’s paths look different. As we climbed, there were a few sections that were nearly straight up slick rock, so rails had been installed to be able to climb safely while holding on to the rails. These rails were installed deep, deep into the mountain so they were entirely secure, and by holding them, I felt so much safer. (There’s another lesson in that for sure, but it wasn’t one that I focused on today.) Anyway, I mentioned to Tom at one point that I can’t imagine how these were installed, but I was sure grateful they were. I found myself expressing gratitude for those who had gone before and done the tough job of installing the rails so the journey could be easier and safer for me. I also found myself grateful for those ahead of us on the trail (both going up and coming down) who we could somewhat watch and learn from the paths they took. I’m finding, more so than ever in my life, that there is so much value and hope in knowing you’re not alone. In the good times and the bad, feeling a connection to those who have gone before and those around you makes such a difference. I’ve had quite a few lonely moments over the past two weeks. Even surround by friends, or family, or my dear husband, grief and pain have triggered a great deal of loneliness. But today I was reminded that many have gone before, and many are still around, and I can gain strength from them in so many ways. We’re all headed in the same direction, so even though our paths may look different, there’s still so much more I can achieve when I connect with those in my life.
As we were going up, and down, I noticed that even Tom and I were taking different paths. Just like the people ahead of us were taking different paths. In some cases, we followed them. In some cases, I followed Tom. But in others, we didn’t. I didn’t. I looked at the options and chose my own path. The path I felt was best for me. Here we were, all headed up (and then back down) the same mountain, but no two people’s paths were the same. One thing that’s been interesting for me to work through lately is that Tom and I are processing and healing in different ways. Even though we’re both going through the same experience of losing our sweet Benny, how we climb this mountain has looked different. And today as we climbed an actual mountain, I realized that’s okay. I’ve been worried that I’m not responding as well as he is. I’ve felt like he’s doing so much better than me. But that was the same situation with our hike. He’s a champ and was ahead of me nearly the entire time. But at the end of the day, we both made it to the same summit and we both made it back down. Our paths looked different, but I did what I felt was best for me and he did what he felt was best for him. And it worked. And we both made it.
I hope we both make it through this. I’m confident Tom will, just like today I was confident he’d make it to the top. It’s me I worry about. I’m not sure I’m as strong as he is. Or as I need to be to handle the experience of losing a child. But, I hope I am. I’m trying to be. Right now I feel like we’re at the base of the mountain, looking up at the rocks and ridges and trying to just put one foot in front of the other and not fall. It’s hard. At times it’s discouraging. I feel like I may never reach the top, or if I do, I’ll be broken and battered when I get there. But today I made it to the top. It was hard, but I did it. Literally one step at a time. And I think we’ll make it through this. One step at a time. Tom and I have both been through tough experiences in the past, but now we have each other, like we did today. Honestly, I may have turned back today if I’d been by myself. In fact, I may not have even gone had I known how hard it would turn out to be. But with Tom by my side, we made it to the top. We did it. We took all those little steps and turned them into climbing a mountain. And we’ll do this. We’ll take each day we make it through and hopefully turn it into a lifetime of growing and honoring our sweet boy. We’ll do it for us. We’ll do it for him. We’ll do it for Isaac and Zoey. And, we’ll do it for our kind, loving Savior who we know climbed mountains of His own, even the Mount of Olives to the Garden of Gethsemane and the mountain of Golgotha as He carried His cross. He did that for us. He did it for all of us. We know it and we love Him for it. So we’ll do this for Him. And for our sweet Benny. We’ll do our best to make the most of this experience and give the glory to God, as in the case of Lazarus. While we haven’t experienced the same miracle as that story, I’m sure grateful for the miracles we have witnessed over the past few weeks. Things haven’t been easy, and we’ve struggled in ways neither of us has ever struggled before. This experience has been more than I think we thought (and maybe think) we are capable of handling. But, through it all, we continue to see the constant and consistent reminders that the Lord is aware of us, that He loves us, and most poignantly today that He will be with us every step on our way to the summit.