Easter Hope

The last time Easter fell on April 20th was 2003. That date is stuck in my brain because it was the year Dallin was born.  His birth, on March 23, 2003, was difficult, and as Easter approached, he was still struggling every day.  We were waiting for the benchmarks of enough caloric intake, lower bilirubin levels and blood counts that could sustain his body without further transfusion.

I looked at the calendar, at Easter day, April 20th, and in my heart I hoped that my baby would be home by then.  It kind of became my little secret wish. I didn't dare say it out loud, but in my prayers I pleaded, "Home for Easter. Home for Easter."

Although he was getting stronger, Dallin did not make it home by Easter.  He drank from a bottle for the first time that day. We were elated! It was improvement, but not enough.

I've thought about that hope many times since, and although he didn't come home that day, the hope of Easter, hope in the Savior, is ultimately what brought me peace.  Hope in His life and His resurrection; hope in His gospel and His priesthood; hope in covenants made in the temple; hope that no matter the outcome for my baby in this life, he would be mine throughout eternity because of the One who came to save.

By the following Easter, my miracle boy was not only home, but healing: growing, learning, crawling around to find plastic eggs and putting the basket on his head. My busy, darling one-year-old was such a gift to me. He is still a gift. His scary beginning will always be monumental; a time that taught me much about hope in the the Lord and, forever after, shaped my faith.

For that, I am grateful.