HOPE'S STORY, PART LAST: "THE-END-BUT-NOT-REALLY"

I'm going to end Hope's Story with my two cents.

This is what I think:  The story is not the real story.

Let me explain.

There are things that happen to people and everyone around them asks, "Why did that happen to them? Why do they have to suffer?  Why do bad things have to happen to good people?"

And this is what I would say:  What people on the outside see, tells so little of the story.  Because most of the story happens inside.

There were some who thought we were foolish to bring Hope into this world.  I'm sure if they were to read this blog, and see how difficult it was, they might even say things like, "See?  They could have avoided all of that suffering."

But we aren't the only ones.  People have often been ridiculed for doing things that didn't make sense to other people.  Things that seemed just stupid.  Because they were for invisible reasons--for God or love or duty.

I can't describe my feeling on the subject any better than a man named Francis Webster.  He was part of the 1856 ill-fated Martin Handcart Company--a group of Mormons who started the 1300 mile trek from Iowa to the Salt Lake Valley, knowing it was too late in the season.

This is a picture of our re-enactment of the 1300 mile trek.
Don't worry, we only went like 30 miles.

Years later, in a Sunday School class, there was some sharp criticism of the leadership of the Church for allowing a company to venture across the plains "with no more supplies or protection than a handcart caravan afforded."  William R. Palmer records what happened next:

"One old man [Francis Webster] in the corner sat silent and listened as long as he could stand it, then he arose and said things that no person who heard him will ever forget. 
He said in substance, 'I ask you to stop this criticism.  You are discussing a matter you know nothing about.  Cold historic facts mean nothing here, for they give no proper interpretation of the questions involved.  Mistake to send the Handcart Company out so late in the season?  Yes!  But I was in that company and my wife was in it...We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism?
Every one of them came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives, for we became acquainted with Him in our extremities!
I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other.  I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up for I cannot pull the load through it.  I have gone to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me!  I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one.  I knew then that the angels of God were there.  Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart?  No!  Neither then nor any minute of my life since.  The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company.'"

The fact that we had a baby who died is the story many people will tell.  The untold story is what has happened to the inside of me.  And it is good, so good.  You will just have to take my word on that.

But I think there are some prerequisites.  My feeling is that you prepare for hard things long before they happen.  For me, that meant being the very best disciple of Christ I can be. 

It meant saying "I'm sorry."  

It meant not selfishly judging others because their sins are different than mine.  

It meant serving people I know and strangers.  

It meant living the doctrine of Christ, even when politics or social trends tell me otherwise.

It meant giving 100%.  

And a million other things.
You might think those things have nothing to do with handling trials well, but I tell you it has everything to do with it.  

Now, my husband, who knows me best, will be the first to say I utterly fail at least multiple times in every category, and he would be right.  But I once heard a wise man say, "Strive and strive until you see the face of God."
I think that's what makes a disciple of Christ.
And when the trial came, He came.

I want to share one other cent.
The question is, What about when everyone goes home?  What do you do then?  How do you mourn and move on, if that's even what you are supposed to do?
Loving friends gave us bereavement books that I read, and I learned that bereavement is a 'you' thing.

But this is what I did:

1) You start out by writing a blog about it, if you want.  Even better if you write it in a way that will serve others.  

2) You pick up a hobby that you have always wanted to try (see "Photography") and make your husband buy you a camera.

3) You talk to your daughter and about your daughter like she is still in your family, because she is.  Sometimes, you can tell your husband, "I'm pretty sure Hope really wants you to get that camera for me" or more seriously, "I think it would mean a lot to Hope if we ____" (fill in the blank) 

4)  You talk to other people about your daughter cause it makes you feel good.  (Might eventually drive them crazy, but their listening gives them an opportunity to serve and be blessed for it.)

5) You walk through your field of roses often (feeling both the thorns and the beauty) in sweet, private moments.  You don't stay too long if it hurts too much.  You hope that as time goes on you can stay longer and longer in that garden before the hurt gets to you.  You hope that as you get closer to seeing your daughter again, those roses turn thornless.

6) You work through the things that still haunt you.  Like what happened the last day of her life.  Or some of the pictures you have of your daughter as her sun set.  Or the time you moved your diaper bag and accidentally hit your daughter's face and it made her cringe in pain. Or that the TV was on when she passed away.  You imagine her saying, "It's ok, it's not like I didn't know you loved me.  You were holding me close when I died.  I kinda wanted to slip away quietly.  Also, I loved my life.  Thanks, Mom and Dad."

7) You cry when it feels good.  Sometimes you just say, "Tyler, I miss Hope right now" and continue doing what you were doing, while thinking about her.  Sometimes you sleep hugging the one onesie you didn't pack away.

8) You design the dang cutest headstone you can think of and plan on having picnics there.

That's all I can think of right now.

This may be the end of "Hope's Story," but it's not the end of Hope's story.  There will be reflections of that in every other post on here, and in every other aspect of my life. 
In closing, here is a quote.  Take it with a grain of salt, but it made me smile.

“Its unfortunate and I really wish I wouldn't have to say this, but I really like human beings who have suffered. They're kinder.”   ― Emma Thompson

Love, C