3 years of the unimaginable. 3 years of heartache so intense there are no words in any language to paint a picture close to the truth. 3 years of tears, pain, grief and blackness. But you know what? I'm still here, 3 years later. I'm still breathing, my little people are surviving, and some days thriving. We lived. I honestly didn't think it was possible, was sure that the bleakest oblivion would win and swallow me whole.
In one week, Hope Noelle with be 3 years old in Heaven. Normally that thought sends shock waves through my system and tears flooding my face. Now it brings a strange sense of comfort and peace to my soul. It doesn't make my love for her any less, nor the ache in my empty arms more filled. It simply means, that in spite of all that I've endured, my spirit still understands truth that my head and heart sometimes ignores. Families are forever. Simple words, yet so profound that finally a balm has been laid across the raw edges of my soul. Families are forever.
I know few things with absolute certainty. Things that while I can't physically show you, my spirit shouts are true non the less. I guess it's that strange thing that Later Day Saints claim to have one Sunday a month when telling each other stories from the pulpit during Testimony meeting. That thing that other dear friends of mine of other faiths have that they share freely but that I've hoarded and even tried to snuff out at times. My Testimony is small, and sometimes very fragile, but as is always the case, hard to kill. I've thought it dead more than once, but it was simply waiting for me to remember the things I know. So while I may never stand in a meeting to share, because my anxiety tells me that no one needs to hear what I have to say, I'm going to leave it here, for whoever may stumble upon my weird little corner of this world. So buckle up, as always, I never know what will flow outta my own head, but my soul needs to have the words out of me, one way or another.
I know that there lives a beautifully perfect soul, who loved his family so much, he was willing to walk his own unimaginable path to lead us all home. I know that Heavenly Father sent him to this bleak, hard world, not because he didn't love Him, but that He loves us all. I know that Christ came, willingly, to suffer for me. He has walked this hellish path, He knows the deepest pits that I have fallen into. He knows me, and that I need his help to get out of the pain, and he loves me enough to promise me that it will all be made right one day. I know that while some may see my church as an enemy to those who don't fit a certain mold, that's not the case. The Gospel of Jesus Christ is simple. I know it is. It's sometimes very, very hard to live, but it is very simple. Love the Lord God with all your heart, and love each other. It doesn't say we have to qualify a person to love them, nor do they have to do anything to earn that love. We just have to love each other. God so loved the world that He sent His Son to lead us all home. All of us.
I know that there are injuries that we all suffer at someone else's hand. Insults and lies and pain and disappointments and letdowns. In that same breath though, others have suffered those same things from us. He is ever mindful of me, even when I try to ignore Him. I have often thought that my life would be so much easier if I didn't know these truths. Not just a little, but rooted in my soul is the knowledge that I am His daughter, and he loves me. I can rant and rail, and scream and shout, but it changes nothing. I am a daughter of the Most High God, and He loves me. That is my testimony, that He is there. It's not a pretty lie I delude myself with. It is not a crutch when life is hard, for if it were, my crutch would have snapped long ago. Christ walks with me, and supports me when my own strength fails, which is a lot. And I know this, beyond a shadow of doubt, the meaning of life is simply one word, FAMILY.
We are all family, and so, as written by Rick Riordan in one of his books, "Families are messy, immortal families are eternally messy. Sometime the best we can do is remind each other we are related, for better or for worse-and try to keep the maiming and killing to a minimum".
In the end, when we shed this imperfect for perfect, and cross that path to the home we all feel pulling us back, we will still be family, forever. I know this is true, just as I know that our Father will be waiting for us, to embrace us like we embrace those we love and miss. So yes, 3 years is my milestone for now, 3 years of so many things that have tried to squash me, and sub out my testimony. 3 years of enduring things I once was certain would kill me only to still sit here, with a light in my soul that nothing can snuff out. This is my truth.
