“Some [blessings] don’t come until Heaven”

Impatience is the suggestion that “we know what is best – better than does God”. In contrast, “Patience … helps us turn trials and tribulations … into joy and growth. [It] is a willingness … to watch the unfolding purposes of God with a sense of wonder and awe.”

-        Neal A. Maxwell

Colt was born 4 years ago. When he died, 6½ months later, I not only ‘lost’ him, but also my future… (at least what I had imagined of it). I found myself without purpose as the path I was on suddenly ended. I had to make a new plan, which was not only an inconvenience, but heartbreaking. I wanted to raise him… how could that be taken from me? What am I supposed to do with my life now? How could this plan be better than what I envisioned?

When the blessings you were ‘supposed’ to have during your earthly life get postponed, patience takes on a whole new meaning… Suddenly, you’re not waiting for a certain date in time, but rather for when you’re out of time. It can be difficult to find new purpose where your reason once stood. It is challenging to patiently wait for blessings that do not come when sought.

A first reaction to adversity is usually shock, especially when we are already striving to live in accordance with God’s commandments. While we may not understand the reason for every (or any) trial, we are asked to endure it with patience, even those that seem impossible to bear at all.

The recent pandemic has thrown most people out of their regular routines and habits. It has been an inconvenience for us all… some more than others. It is difficult to patiently wait for things to (hopefully) get better… and will be even more challenging to be tolerant if things continue to get worse…

While I am unable to feel ‘grateful’ for the ordeal that caused me to spend less time with my friends and family, financial hardships, and the death of many… I am appreciative of how much I have learned as I have blocked out the opinions of the world and allowed myself to be led by my faithful leaders, as well as gaining a sturdier focus on what’s important.

No matter what happens, I know that through Christ the blessings are and will come, no matter how long it takes… and I am always thankful for what I learn along the journey. Having patience is hard, but a recent promise from Elder Matthew S. Holland gives me great comfort:

“Regardless of the causes of our worst hurts and heartaches, the ultimate source of relief is the same: Jesus Christ. He alone holds the full power and healing balm to correct every mistake, right every wrong, adjust every imperfection, mend every wound, and deliver every delayed blessing.”

I know this is true. I have physically felt the hands of angels bearing me up as I’ve gone through unimaginable trials; the placement of their hands imprinted on my back. Christ is there, ready and willing to help. Things may not happen in the way we would like, but through Christ we will receive more blessings than we can imagine.

Waiting for my family to all be together again is my greatest test of patience. I pray for strength every morning to make it through without Colt. I never stop missing him, nor wishing he were here. Whenever impatient thoughts start creeping back into my life (as they often do), making me bitter and miserable, I do my best to counter them by looking for the blessings, which are ALWAYS there and testify of God’s love for me. As I submit to His will and try to bear my afflictions with patience, I can feel joy amid the struggle and awe as His plan for me unfolds a little more. I know I will hurt (to some extent) until heaven, but then, I believe I will say, “It was ALL worth it.”

“Some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don’t come until heaven… but… they come.”

-        Elder Jeffrey R. Holland

My Last Day with You

My last day with you,

though a nightmare

turned truth,

is my last

favorite day.

Even now,

the best moments

comprise

a vacant place

where you ought to be.

But on that day

I held you,

embracing

the joy of a life

perfectly complete.

Until evening left me

crumpled

and broken…

arms empty…

unable to breathe…

Still,

I cherish that day,

though I wish

it could change,

since it was my last day

with you.

written by Braquel Woodland

Inspired by a quote from A.A. Milne -

“Any day spent with you is my favorite day. So today is my new favorite day.”

Stormy Skies

Today my sweet Colt would have turned three years old. It seems fitting that it is a stormy day, as Colt came into the world during a Big Missouri Thunderstorm. This type of weather always reminds me of him, in more ways than just one…

When I was about eighteen, we went on a family trip to the island of Kauai. I was on the beach, with my sister, when a storm began coming in. Sand and waves collided stronger as the sky filled with dark clouds. Wind carried my hair as I stood knee-deep in the churning water, rain pouring down, looking out at the vast ocean before me. I took in the beauty of that storm and allowed it to energize me. My sister begged me to go inside, but I wasn’t afraid. I remember jumping through the waves and feeling more alive and free than I ever had before.

https://fineartamerica.com/featured/kauai-storm-steven-michael.html

I often feel this same way towards the storm I face each day when I wake up [again] without my son. While some life storms pass quickly, this is one that will last the duration of my lifetime. It seems to rage now just as strongly as it did the day I held my sons’ lifeless body, trying to memorize the details of his face.

Often, it seems like the safer path is to seek shelter as I become fearful of the waves exploding below me and the rain plummeting above. It all seems like too much, and I start feeling bitter, depressed, and full of self-pity. At times these feelings begin to take over and I wonder if I will surrender to their enticing promise of ease and validation.

The sorrow of living without Colt is devastatingly crushing. It came first as I walked out of the hospital without Colt in my arms, and again as I went to bed next to an empty crib. It flooded me as I woke up the next day realizing that the nightmare I had experienced wasn’t just a dream… And it haunts me every day as I wonder how different my life would be if he were here to enjoy it too.

There isn’t a day… a moment… that passes without me thinking about Colt. He is in every breath I take, and the most vicious storm I have ever been asked to walk through. Some days appear too hard to face. It seems like every time I turn there is a new milestone that I am missing, and a new reminder of what I don’t get to have. It would be so effortless to give in to the storm.

However, since this storm never passes from my sky, I don’t get very far in life if I sit inside every day feeling sorry for myself. The only way I move forward is when I venture onward, out in the turmoil. It is then that I find myself feeling just how I did on that island in Hawaii many years ago… fearless. When I face the storm head-on it begins to energize me. I keep going because I’m not afraid anymore, but eager to experience the beauty. As I do this, the storm slowly becomes a wonderful part of who I am.

One of the greatest marvels in nature is when we observe landscapes that have been shaped by forces outside themselves.

https://horseshoebend.com/best-time-visit-horseshoe-bend/

The turmoil they have experienced is what makes them the beautiful places they are. These special sites seem to stand more proudly than others, showing off their splendor, calling to those who have passed through pain like them. They inspire.

So it is with us, when we experience trials. If we continue on in joy, letting the storm mold us as we faithfully cling to God, we can become even more wonderful than we were before.

Thomas S. Monson said:

“I testify to you that our promised blessings are beyond measure. Though the storm clouds may gather, though the rains may pour down upon us, our knowledge of the gospel and our love of our Heavenly Father and of our Savior will comfort and sustain us and bring joy to our hearts as we walk uprightly and keep the commandments… Fear not. Be of good cheer. The future is as bright as your faith.”

We are promised that our sorrows will be made up to us, if not in this life then the next. Our future is very bright, and we are never left alone if we turn to our Savior for help. Though we walk through many trials, we can find joy.

Even though every joy I feel is shadowed with the thought of my son not being here with me, so is each heartache I encounter lightened by him cheering me on from the other side.

While this storm doesn’t ever fully leave my sky, I’m learning to stand in the middle of it, looking up at that unbridled sky while taking a deep breath, and continue forward with a smile. It is then that I start feeling the sun on my face and look up to see that the rain has lightened and I am stronger.

Let Go and Trust

Colt has been serving his heavenly mission for 2 years, today. Some days are harder to face than others, but I have slowly learned to let go of the plan I had for my life and find joy in the one that is laid before me.

I recently saw a Facebook post where a woman talked about her own journey of losing a daughter. She relayed how Heavenly Father helped her through the ordeal and strengthened her to let go. It was a touching post and strengthened my own understanding of God’s plan for my life. There was, however, a comment on the post that made me pause and think: ‘Don’t you wish God would have just… healed her instead?’

 I thought about losing my own son…

In my deepest moments of shock and disbelief, I watched Richard give CPR to our lifeless little boy. It was then, through sobs, that I pleaded with my Heavenly Father to spare Colt’s life.

Once the paramedics arrived, I began to feel a twinge of hope that it was all going to be ok. They were going to save my precious little boy!

The ambulance ride seemed to last forever, but I remained strong and kept praying to witness a miracle. It wasn’t long after we were wheeled into a room at the hospital, though, that I began to lose hope. The minutes were going by and things weren’t looking good… I sat there, tears running down my cheeks, staring at my life crumble before my eyes.

It was in these moments that I finally submitted to my Heavenly Father’s will. I no longer prayed for Him to heal Colt, but I prayed for Him to take my little boy into His own arms and strengthen us who were left behind.

There have been many times, these past two years, where I have wanted to be angry with my Father in Heaven for not healing Colt. I have questioned why and wondered what His plan was for my life; thinking the one I had once dreamed of would have panned out much better.

I am often left feeling like I have lost all purpose. Who am I, then? What am I doing here? Why have you left me all alone?

However, when I look at how much Heavenly Father really is in the details of my life, I find hope and purpose.

Richard and I wanted a 2^nd child for several years before Colt finally came into our home. It was a time in our lives where we wondered why our ‘righteous desire’ wasn’t being fulfilled. This trial was almost forgotten when we finally held our handsome boy in our arms. Once he passed away though, I understood at least part of the reason for that particular trial of struggling to bear children.

If Colt had come when we had wished, things would have been much different. Colt was born in Missouri; however, we were able to move back near family only two months after his birth. His short little life was spent surrounded by loved ones, in the most beautiful place, where we were able to experience life to its fullest. I can’t imagine how much greater our trials would have been had he come on my time table… and not spent so much time with the people who loved him most.

I know, with all of my heart, that Colt was the special spirit that was supposed to be born into our family. He was born at exactly the right place and time. Heavenly Father’s plan WAS better than mine.

I also know, without a shadow of a doubt, that Colt was called home [early] for a very specific purpose. While I may not have quite as much understanding about the plan surrounding this event, I know Heavenly Father’s plan IS better than mine. Even if I have to remind myself of this fact nearly every day.

Last spring, we took out a HUGE pine tree from our front yard. It was no longer serving us, and we made the decision to cut it down. It was a long process of my father-in-law climbing the tree, cutting the branches as he went; followed by cutting down the trunk, section by section, back down to the bottom. It took two whole days to get down to the stump. After that, we had to dig… and dig… and dig… chopping off the roots as we went, to try and get the stump out of our yard. Once we were pretty sure we could pull it out, we chained it to the truck and drove forward. I heard the last remaining roots breaking as the stump was pulled free. We spent a couple more days filling in the hole, leveling the ground, and planting a new tree in place of the huge pine.

There wasn’t as much work involved, but we also planted a new tree in our backyard the very same day.

I had wanted these two new trees for nearly a year (ever since we moved to the house). I followed every guideline I could find on how to best care for them. I treated them exactly the same and did my best to help them thrive.

To my disappointment, only a few months after they had been planted, I noticed that one of them was struggling. I read about what to do, trying my best to help the tree... but it wasn’t enough. One of my trees died, despite giving it my best effort. The other, however, was doing amazingly well.

Why did one tree survive (and even make it to the next spring), while the other did not? They were watered the same… fertilized the same… loved the same… and yet one couldn’t survive.

It didn’t take me long to liken this to my own life.

Sometimes we have big plans… some of them work out… and some of them do not. Sometimes we choose to change our course and cut down a tree, however, sometimes our course gets changed when we don’t want it to… even if we are praying and doing our best to help that plan thrive. Are we willing to chop down the dead trees, even though part of us wants a miracle so they will begin to thrive again?

The trick is to let the dead trees go and keep planting new ones; because no matter which trees thrive and which ones fail, the sun keeps shining and every tree is beautiful. Afterall, God doesn’t want us to be miserable, but he also doesn’t want us to stare at the same tree our whole lives.

I love you Colt-Man.                  -Mom

The Unexpected Answer

Today is the 8^th anniversary of Richard and I’s first date. Today also marks 600 days since Colt’s death. This past Sunday we were able to attend church at the same ward he lived in most of his life. We sat in almost the exact same spot at church that we sat in, with Colt, for the last time (the very day he died). Today I am feeling the weight of losing him… the weight of trying to put on a happy face even when I kind of wish I could cry… Today I am reminded that I have lived 3 times longer without my sweet Colt than what I was blessed to live with him on this earth.

Today I am humbled by how much God loves each of us as individuals, even when we forget.

I was driving to a friend’s house the Thursday evening before Christmas when Colt’s lullaby came on in my car. My mood quickly shifted from eager and excited to quiet and somber. The tears filled my eyes as I thought about my sweet boy and how much I was missing him this Christmas season. I started praying (something I seem to do often in my car). I poured out my heart about all I had been feeling and asked my Heavenly Father to please send me a miracle. I had been really struggling and missing my blue-eyed boy, and wanted a reminder that it was all going to be ok.

Upon arrival at my friend’s house, however, it was easy to kind of forgot about my prayer, and I spent the rest of the evening having fun with some of my best girlfriends.

The next morning felt fairly normal. Richard left for work on time as I continued getting myself and Graci ready for the day. However, I heard Richard walk back through our front door about 10 minutes after he had left for work, which was not a normal occurrence at all. I listened as his footsteps come towards me down the hall and around the corner into our bedroom. He whispered to me that he had found Graci’s favorite cat, Tigger, run over a few houses down.

My heart sank to my toes, and I asked him about 5 times if he was sure it was our cat. I had never seen him leave our backyard and we have several orange cats in our neighborhood, how could it be him? He kept reassuring me that it was in fact Tigger, and he had already picked him up off the road. My heart was broken, and I was so nervous to break the news to Graci who was oblivious in the other room.

The thought came, “Really? I ask for a Miracle and this is what I get? Another family member we love… dead?”

School was going to start in about 20 minutes and I debated on whether to tell Graci now or wait until after she got home. She was playing with our puppy, Kona, on the floor and something was telling me not to keep it from her. I moved closer to her and softly said, “Graci…. Tigger got ran over last night….” Her eyes immediately filled with tears and she started sobbing. I scooped her up into my lap and let her cry for a few minutes before talking about it a little more. We talked about how sad we were and how much we would miss him… we talked about all the funny things he did and how much he loved Graci ‘the most’… we talked about how his spirit was now in heaven with Colt and all our other loved ones…

I gave her the option to go to school a little late, but if you know Graci you know that she, of course, did not want to miss even a few minutes of school. Her eyes were red and swollen as I sent her out the door with Richard, but I knew she would be fine. Graci has always been the resilient type, and death is all too familiar to her little six-year-old self.

As the day went on, I had a hard time focusing on much of anything except how much I was already missing my ‘Colt’ cat. He was a special member of our family and a sweet reminder of our little angel. He came into our lives on Colt’s Angel Day, and I always felt like he was a gift from heaven. He seemed to bring a similar spirit into our home that had been missing since Colt died, and even had several physical characteristics that reminded me of him. He admired Graci, much like her brother did, and they had a very special relationship. It was easily one of my biggest joys, watching those two play in the backyard together…

There was a big part of me that wondered why it had to be him. Why did it have to be our ‘Colt’ cat… a pet with so much significance in our family, and especially to our sweet Graci. However, since the day we took him into our home I had been unable to shake the feeling that he would die young, much like the angel who I felt had sent him to us.

This feeling was very similar to the feeling I had throughout Colt’s short life. Somehow, I knew Colt was going to die, but I didn’t know I knew until it happened. However, as the day he returned to his Heavenly Father grew closer, the feeling got stronger and stronger. I had so many warnings and feelings that, looking back, were signs for me to prepare for something extremely hard and hold my family tight. The Holy Ghost witnessed to me that his death had been planned since before his birth.

The Lord was with me through that trial, and while I wish it hadn’t happened at all, it occurred in the most perfect way possible. The same thing was happening with the trial of losing our cat. Heavenly Father had it planned out perfectly, and everything was falling into place in the most amazing way. It was a sweet reminder to me that our Father’s plan is perfect, and there is purpose in every little thing we face.

As I witnessed these small miracles surrounding Tigger’s death unfold, I quickly came to realize that this was the answer to my pleading prayer in my car that night. This was the reminder I wished for, to remember that everything has a plan… a purpose… and it was all going to turn out ok.

While this Christmas season has seemed harder for me to face than most, I am so grateful for all my Heavenly Father has given me, including my trials. But, most especially, for the people I’ve been given to love here in this life. Through them, the miracles kept pouring out this past week, making Colt feel close, and helping me enjoy the season (finally).

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!!

                                                                                -Love Braquel

I Can't Keep Going

Everyone has moments in life where their body forces them to rely on other people to keep going. As someone who doesn’t particularly enjoy admitting to needing any help from anyone…ever… I don’t love when I am forced to seek it… but I have learned to embrace those times for what they teach me.

Last weekend, Richard ran his 2^nd marathon. He had been training and was hoping to beat his time from last year. The alarm went off for him early on Saturday; he dressed in his team colt shirt, ate a small breakfast, and caught the bus that took him to the top of the canyon where the race began.

The Top of Utah Marathon doesn’t allow cars on the first 14 miles of the course, so that is where we waited to cheer him on. When we finally made out his outline running several hundred yards away, I noticed that he still looked powerful. He seemed so energized when he got up to us and even stopped for half a second to give Graci and I hugs and kisses before going on his way.

We stopped every two to three miles, and he continued to look great! There was no sign of him slowing down.

At about mile 20 he started getting a little more tired and crampy, even slowing to a brisk walk for a bit, but still looking strong and able.

When we saw him at mile 23, he didn’t look so good anymore. His walk had slowed… his complexion was grey… and there was no longer a smile on his face (which is a big deal for Richard). He was going slow enough Graci thought it would be fun to walk with him. I threw my camera and phone in the car with my parents, and the two of us joined his walk.

He wasn’t himself and didn’t even laugh at my playful banter that he usually loves so much. He was out of breath, and we were walking pretty slow… We didn’t make it very far before he had to stop. He was tingly everywhere, even his tongue, and couldn’t continue to stand, let alone walk.

Luckily there were two firemen stationed right where we were at this point, who gave him water and talked through his symptoms. We sat there for 45 minutes trying to do anything to help him feel better so he could go on. However, after trying to stand up for the second time, unsuccessfully, he turned to me with tears in his eyes and said, “I don’t think I can keep going, honey.”

I think both those firemen and I knew that even if he thought he could keep going, it wouldn’t have been a good idea. He was so pale and shaky… We knew this decision was the smartest.

I told him we would “see him at the finish line”.

The firemen loaded him into their side by side to take him to the aid station, as Graci and I continued making our way along the course to find the rest of our family. They should have been waiting not far away, but after walking nearly a mile with no sign of them, I knew I needed to change my approach. I borrowed another spectator’s phone and dialed my mom. She answered and told me she had seen Richard and was going to send my dad to get us.

In the few minutes it took my dad to get to us, I had made a decision to continue walking the course and finish the race. It was for our little ColtMan, we couldn’t leave it incomplete. When my dad pulled up, I loaded Graci in the car, told him my plan, and kept walking.

I could feel Colt with me as I walked, and had a feeling of peace as I realized that this was exactly how the race was supposed to end. After all, our life had never gone as planned.

I was joined for the last few blocks by my mom and two aunts; all crossing the finish line as a team, wearing our ‘Colt’ gear.

I quickly made it over to the aid station to check on Richard who didn’t look or feel much better, even after downing a whole I.V. bag, and seemed pretty disappointed that he had to quit early. I told him we finished for him, which helped ease his disappointment and even put a small smile back on his face.

It took several hours, after leaving and returning home, for him to regain his color and appetite, but once it was back he was STARVING!

I don’t know why his body quit on him… there was absolutely no reason it should have… in fact, he looked so much better than he did last year at this same race. He had never had problems getting the CO2 out of his body before... why did he struggle today? Whatever the reason, it did feel good to be the one to pick up the pieces and help him when he needed for once.

There have been numerous situations in our marriage where the roles have been reversed. So many times I have had to turn to Richard and express my feelings about not being able to keep going... during every tough pregnancy… each painful miscarriage… the unbearable death of my perfect little boy… sleepless nights where I’m sobbing because of my heartache… scary anxiety attacks that pop up out of nowhere… and just those days where I have too much on my plate…

He has never turned me away or told me I was being silly, but instead holds me and lets me cry. He lifts my burdens and is often found carrying me through the races of my life.

Richard’s love for me and our kids is the closest thing to Christ-like love I have ever witnessed. He always sacrifices his desires and comfort for us and makes sure we are taken care of before himself.

It is easy to understand my Saviors love when I have an earthly reminder each and every day of how precious and important I am as an individual. I know that just as I was able to pick up the pieces when Richard’s body failed him, or he does for me when I’m having a bad day, Christ is always there to help us when we can no longer continue on our life’s journeys.

When no other person on earth can ease our burdens and soothe our aching hearts, the Savior does. He is real, he is there, and he loves you more than you could possibly imagine. He will help each of us finish this race because we are promised that we will fail to do it by ourselves.

I have endured 500 long days of living without my precious little boy… 500 days of praying for the strength to get out of bed and pass his empty room… 500 days of relying on my Savior to carry me through this trial. Without his sacrifice and promise that I get to hold my son again, I know I would give up… and I wouldn’t let someone help me… I would stay between mile marker 23 and 24 forever…

So even though I have my own pride issues, and struggle to ask for help, I have learned that is exactly what I have to do. If I want to see my son again, I have to do every possible thing I can, and then ask for help to cover the rest.

Reaching for You

I can often be found looking through Colt’s old pictures. My biggest wish is that I could pluck him from those pictures and hold him tight. I don’t think I would ever let go…

Though I often feel him close, my arms have ached to hold him for 1 year and 100 days… and sometimes that ache seems impossible to bear any longer.

I have never felt an ache this deep, constant, and heart-wrenching.

The momma whale that carried her dead baby for 17 days…

I understand her…

I get it…

I know that if it had been possible for me to keep Colt’s lifeless body, I would have. But within a few short hours after holding my healthy happy boy, I had to leave him… laying on a hospital bed… and say goodbye.

For four days I looked forward to holding him again. There was a part of me that wondered if Jesus would work one of his miracles, and that when I walked into the room Colt would amazingly wake up. I prayed for this scenario. I hoped for it with all my might. I didn’t know how I could live the rest of my life without him, when just the past four days had been so torturous. However, my logical side told me this was extremely unlikely, and I knew holding him, one last time, would probably be enough for now.

That day came…

It was so peaceful to walk into a room, that I know was full of angels, and dress Colt one last time. After pinning on his little stripling warrior pin… I held him. I held him and tried my hardest to memorize how that felt… I hoped it would be enough.

It didn’t take long to realize that it wasn’t…

I don’t think even living a lifetime with him in my life would have been enough…

But, I’m pretty sure living an eternity with him will be.

This picture, while not the best, has become one of my very favorites, because I feel like he is reaching for me in it as well. (Although, since I took it, I know he really just wanted to play with my camera).

When life gets too hard to bear… when my trial seems impossible to get through… I try to remind myself that he is right there. I don’t have to reach through the photo to find him… he is already right next to me waiting for me to simply ask him for a hug.

He hasn’t left me, but is waiting for me to come home.

While these past 465 days have been quite the battle for me, I know that my little family will all be together again… and technically we already are… most people just can’t see it.

I will never stop reaching for my little guy… but will continue to cling to him as he helps lead me back to the place where I belong. And maybe, just maybe, that is the greatest blessing of all.