My husband and I are members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormon). During the main hour of worship, called Sacrament meeting, 2 to 3 members of the church congregation speak on assigned topics. These topics range from Repentance and Forgiveness, to the Creation and Fall. It just depends what the Bishop--the guy called to be the steward of the church congregation--feels what needs to be heard.
Me and Matt were asked a week ago to speak during November 13th's Sacrament meeting. We've spoken many times before, and were just fine doing it again. For our topics I got "hope" and Matt got "charity." Since my talk ended up being a lot about Eli, and how we managed his situation, I thought it appropriate to share it on this blog. So here it is:
(This was more of a rough draft, hence the choppiness in some parts.)
I’m going to
share a personal moment in our lives. Let’s go back 3 years to 2008:
It’s the
first week of December, and Matt and I are sitting in a high-risk pregnancy
doctor’s waiting room. We had been told the week previous, at this baby’s 20
week ultrasound, that one side of his heart could not be seen. To be on the safe side, we needed to go
to this doctor’s clinic because she had the skill set and the tools to be able
to find it.
Our name was
called, and we went back into the dark, but comfortable, ultrasound room. The
ultra sound technician was nice and cheerful, and started the ultrasound with
smooth efficiency. The baby’s
brain, back, kidneys, mouth, were all looked over within 10 minutes… then
lastly the heart. The technician became very quiet. 5 minutes of not speaking,
while conducting the ultrasound of the heart, became 10 minutes, which
ultimately became 35 minutes. She didn’t need to tell me, I knew. Something was
wrong… terribly. I started to silently cry.
The Doctor
came in and performed her own ultrasound. She too became quiet as she searched
over and over and over the baby’s heart.
The
ultrasound finished, and we sat and discussed what was going on. There was a
side missing from his heart, but because she wasn’t a cardiologist she couldn’t
give a diagnosis—or prognosis. Layer, upon layer, upon layer, of worry started
to descend upon me as we talked.
The Doctor then said that if this heart defect was chromosomal then his
likelihood of survival after birth was none. For this reason she suggested we
collect some amniotic fluid so that we, and the doctors, could know for sure
what we were dealing with.
I was handed
the paperwork for the amniocentesis and could hardly sign my name, for my tears
were coming too fast.
When Matt
and I left the Doctor's office, my fear was great. I felt as if my world was slowly
crumbling, and I somehow needed to stop it. Through small prayers I put my
faith in action, which helped hope enter—so that despair wouldn’t overwhelm me.
Through that
day, and the next week, I was able to hold onto this feeling of HOPE and not
crumble. Finally the test results of the baby’s chromosomes came back, and they
were “normal boy.” I cried for joy, and through prayer I thanked Heavenly
Father.
Since
December of 2008, the story goes well… maybe with a few hick-ups. End of
February of 2009 we finally get a diagnosis, and a positive prognosis. (Tricuspid Atresia, the right side
missing… 80%+ survival rate.)
This baby
boy, Eli, was born to us in April of 2009 at University of Utah. At 5 days old
he had his first open heart surgery at Primary Children Medical Center. In
August of 2009 he had his 2nd open heart surgery, at Primary
Childrens. And in August of this
year he had his third, and final, open heart surgery at Primary Childrens.
When we left
Primary Children for the last time I wept. For joy. And in front of Eli’s surgeon (which made us all
uncomfortable… sorry Dr. Kaza.)
For almost 3 years I had been holding onto hope that this little boy
would make it through all three surgeries and do well. I hoped in Christ that
this little one would be saved, and able to live a long and peaceful life. Through much prayer I held onto the
power of hope, so that I would not lose myself in worry and despair.
I tell you
this personal experience to introduce you to my topic, which is HOPE.
I think of
hope as a principle, which has great importance in our lives. President Dieter
F. Uchtdorf says in his talk “The Infinite Power of Hope,” that “The Apostle
Paul taught that the scriptures were written to the end that we ‘might have hope.’
Hope has the
power to fill our lives with happiness…
Hope is a
gift of the Spirit.”
What, Then,
Is Hope?
To be honest
when I first got this subject, I was like, EASY!
But then I
started to pounder, and I began to wonder how I should define “hope.” I started
to feel like I did in the 6th grade when my science teacher asked
the class to describe the taste of salt. I couldn’t. I knew what salt tasted
like, and had a lot of experience with it (I’m southern, remember… and
southerners LOVE salt!), but I couldn’t put salt’s qualities into words… except,
hmm… salty?
And I knew
hope wasn’t hope-y.
Thankfully www.lds.org provides guidance to those (me!) who
are searching for the correct description of hope.
“The word
HOPE is sometimes misunderstood. In our everyday language, the word often has a
hint of uncertainty. For example, we may say that we hope for a change in the
weather or a visit from a friend. In the language of the gospel, however, the
word hope is sure, unwavering, and active.”
My favorite parts
of this definition is, “hope is sure, unwavering, and active.”
And importantly,
Uchtdorf says, “Hope is not knowledge, but rather the abiding trust that the
Lord will fulfill His promise to us. It is confidence that if we live according
to God’s laws and the words of His prophets now, we will receive desired
blessings in the future. It is believing and expecting that our prayers will be
answered. It is manifest in confidence, optimism, enthusiasm, and patient
perseverance.”
So Hope is
confidence and Action—In Christ. I believe this is key to understand the
principle of hope, and why there is its opposite of despair.
In essence
despair is inaction and faithlessness in Christ.
In all
things there must be an opposite. It is part of the plan of Happiness, for it
gives us choice and the ability to use our accountability. With this in mind let’s remember that
there is one who would gladly see us use our choice and accountability to make
ourselves unhappy. In the words of Uchtdorf, “The adversary uses despair to
bind heart and minds in suffocating darkness.” And that “Despair kills
ambition, advances sickness, pollutes the soul, and deadens the heart. Despair
can seem like a staircase that leads only and forever downward.”
In the
personal experience that I shared, I could have easily slipped into the realm
of despair. And though I was sad, scared, worried, I always tried to act in
faith so that I wouldn’t drown in paralyzing inability. I’ll be the first to admit
that I have not gone through the last 3 years gracefully. I have cried hard and
often, I have had days in which I felt like I couldn’t go on any longer—and all
I wanted to do was eat ice cream… Tillimook peanut butter/chocolate ice cream.
The good stuff.
… but I want
to be honest with y’all. Through my simple daily pleas for my sons’ safety I
was able to keep hope, and keep my head just above water. There was a lot of
peace in my life, especially during Eli first year—when he was born and had two
open-heart surgeries within his first 4 months of life.
And I look
back on the hard moments in the hospital and wonder how we made it through that
day. You know, I believe it was moment by moment. Breath by breath. Little
action by little action. These
little hope blocks built upon one another, and when all the surgeries were
finished and I had my embarrassing cry in front of surgeon Dr. Kaza, I had great
peace in my life. And do still!
I’d like to
share a poem which to me illustrates the action of Hope in a wonderful way.
It’s by one of my favorite poets, Mr. Langston Hughes… and I’ll try to keep my
southern accent under control while I read this:
Mother to
Son
Langston
Hughes
Well, son,
I’ll tell you:
Life for me
ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had
tacks in it,
And
splinters,
And boards
torn up,
And places
with no carpet on the floor—
Bare.
But all the
time
I’se been
a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’
landin’s,
And turnin’
corners,
And
sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there
ain’t been no light.
So boy,
don’t you turn back.
Don’t you
set down on the steps
‘Cause you
finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you
fall now—
For I’se
still goin’, honey,
I’se still
climbin’,
And life for
me ain’t been no crystal stair.
I am
grateful for the wonderful opportunity to speak to y’all about hope. I didn’t
know the exact definition—or formula—that was happening in my life these last 3
years, and I’m grateful for the knowledge that I have learned.
Simple,
small prayers build hope. Hope builds happiness. And happiness is awesome.
I say these
things in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
