On January 7, 2008, our dear Oliver David Connell was born and swiftly taken home to our Father who created him. I feel so privileged that I have been chosen to be his mother. I am doing the best I can, but this is a hard trial to endure. I know Oliver is a part of our family for many reasons, with many purposes, but with my imperfect soul, I still question why this happened the way it did. Heavenly Father has promised me that he'll let me know all the reasons throughout my life.I have really enjoyed a talk by Pres. Eyring that has helped me understand how our trials work with each of us specifically. He says, "The tests we will face, their severity, their timing, and their duration will be unique for each of us. But two things will be the same for all of us; they are part of the design for mortal life. First, the tests at times will stretch us enough for us to feel the need for help beyond our own. And, second, God in His kindness and wisdom has made the power of deliverance available to us." I truly feel like I'm being stretched, especially since "the hardest part of the test is to know what to do with the sorrow, the loneliness, and the loss that can feel as if a part of us has been lost." Although I do feel like a part of me has been lost quite literally, I do take great comfort in knowing that if I can endure this trial well, I will be able to see Oliver again and raise him as my own. I also take comfort in knowing that the Savior not only understands and feels grief but also feels my personal grief that only I feel. He knows me perfectly. He knows my heart. Finally, I take comfort in receiving "help beyond my own." I feel like another test each of us must endure is to learn how to receive and accept love from others so that we can really learn how to return that love. Although it has been hard to be on the receiving end of the spectrum, I want to express my sincere thanks and appreciation to family, friends, doctors, leaders, etc. for comforting me and mourning with me. Your help has been irreplaceable in my quest for "deliverance."
I love this section of a fictional story about a girl that was dying. I found it in an old Ensign:
She held the flower he had given her in both hands and studied it carefully while thinking about the picture in her mind.
“It’s early morning,” she began. “There are mists still hanging over the Sea of Galilee. A lone man walks along a path leading away from a small fishing village. It’s the Savior. He walks up the slope away from the water. As he walks, he comes upon a patch of wild flowers. He kneels down to get a closer look. He reaches out and touches the petals. He bends over to examine the insides of the blossom. My question is, what does he see?”
“A flower.”
“Is that all? Just a flower?”
“What else could he see?”
“Jesus was given the responsibility by Heavenly Father to create this earth. At one time, he knew the purpose of every feature of that flower. Did he remember all of those details? Or did his great mind understand the function of each part of the flower just by careful observation? That’s my question.”
“I can’t answer that.”“I know, neither can I. But I don’t believe that he ever considered anything to be common. I think he valued the beauty of every sunset, each view of the Sea of Galilee—in sunshine or in rain. I believe that he was sensitive to beauty. When he said, ‘Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow,’ I believe that he had considered those lilies in greater detail than most of us ever will.”
“It’s early morning,” she began. “There are mists still hanging over the Sea of Galilee. A lone man walks along a path leading away from a small fishing village. It’s the Savior. He walks up the slope away from the water. As he walks, he comes upon a patch of wild flowers. He kneels down to get a closer look. He reaches out and touches the petals. He bends over to examine the insides of the blossom. My question is, what does he see?”
“A flower.”
“Is that all? Just a flower?”
“What else could he see?”
“Jesus was given the responsibility by Heavenly Father to create this earth. At one time, he knew the purpose of every feature of that flower. Did he remember all of those details? Or did his great mind understand the function of each part of the flower just by careful observation? That’s my question.”
“I can’t answer that.”“I know, neither can I. But I don’t believe that he ever considered anything to be common. I think he valued the beauty of every sunset, each view of the Sea of Galilee—in sunshine or in rain. I believe that he was sensitive to beauty. When he said, ‘Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow,’ I believe that he had considered those lilies in greater detail than most of us ever will.”
The reason I like this little story is because it makes me think of my Oliver and this whole situation. I believe the Savior knows the purpose of everything that occurs in our lives; He is involved in the details of our lives. I also don't believe that He considered anything to be common. I know He has a very select purpose for Oliver, and I was somehow important in that purpose coming to fruition. I also know that just as He takes care of the lilies of the field or the fowls of the air, He will take care of me, He will take care of Oliver, and He will take care of you.
I hope all who have read this will excuse my being so candid on such a public forum. I just felt like I needed to express my feelings for my friends and family who read this blog. I also hope these feelings will be considered as a token of my appreciation to all and may serve to help in personal trials now or those to come.
Ethan had a perfectly blissful Christmas morning. Santa brought him a car-carrier truck, which he loves. Although presents are great, Ethan's true Christmas spirit rang through this year. He was fascinated by the Christmas tree and all its meanings. We were not allowed to start a morning until he was able to turn on every Christmas tree in the house. There's nothing like seeing the Christmas spirit glow in your own child's eyes. I will remember this forever; my only fear is that he won't.
Merry Christmas Eve!
I don't think Ethan likes the snow very much. He was not thrilled to even walk on it - or maybe it was because he was wearing his cousin's hand-me-down PINK boots. Hmmm.
