"He took
their little children, one by one, and blessed them, and prayed unto the
Father for them. And when he had done this he wept again; And he spake
unto the multitude, and said unto them: Behold your little ones." 3 Nephi 17
The summer after my freshman year of college, I moved back to Monrovia
to live with my parents and work for a couple of months. I was asked to
be the Primary pianist at church, and my first Sunday playing was our
family friend Adam's first Sunday coming to Primary. Adam
was born with cerebral palsy, leaving him blind and mute amidst his
many other physical challenges. The Primary chorister announced that the
children had been preparing a special song to sing for Adam to welcome
him to church, and that song would be "I'll Walk With You" (lyrics found
here). I couldn't help but cry while I was playing the piano to hear the sweet voices of the kids singing these words—
"Jesus walked away from none
He gave His love to everyone
So I will! I will!"
—and then I looked up to see one of the little girls I babysat put her
arm around Adam and give him a little hug while he was sitting in his
dad's arms. I think of this experience often, and of Adam's sweet,
perfect spirit inside his imperfect physical body, and feel so warm and
good inside.
On October 8th, my sweet baby nephew Jonah Adam Terrill was born with Trisomy 13.
Our family has been anxiously waiting for months for his arrival, not
knowing how long he would be with us because of his condition and the
number of physical challenges that would be facing him upon his arrival
on earth. I thought that I'd be planning a trip home for a funeral, but
after talking to my family, I decided last minute that I should try to
be there to see him, hold him, kiss his very Terrill nose, tell him I
loved him. I was so, so lucky to be able to plan a trip home last
weekend, when I got to hold the little guy, spend some quality time with
all five of my siblings, and help my brother Harry and his family while
they took care of baby Jonah. We celebrated the end of each day with
another candle on Jonah's birthDAY cake. We all believed that Jonah was
trying his best to hang on so he could meet the siblings that were
coming from so far away to meet him, and he miraculously made it. It was
a quick trip—I got home Tuesday night—and it all feels like a blur now.
Last night, I got a call from my sister Phoebe—while I was writing this
post—saying that Jonah's mortal body finally gave in to the challenges
it was faced with, and that he had gone home to live with his Heavenly
Father. I have never felt so simultaneously happy and sad—happy knowing
that Jonah's spirit and spirit body are perfect and that he no longer
has to live on earth in discomfort, but so profoundly sad seeing my
brother and sister in-law and their family suffer in this way.
I do not often wax religious on my blog, but I think it's important here
to note that despite our family's sadness, I ultimately take comfort in
the gospel of Jesus Christ and
in the knowledge that our families will be together forever. I take
comfort in thinking of my sweet future children who will know Jonah
before I get to meet them. I take comfort in the power of prayers. I
take comfort in Jonah's brother Porter's words, who said that despite
our sadness, "we can be happy because we will see Jonah again when we
die." I take comfort in knowing that Jonah's physical challenges and my
brother and sister in-law's grief and suffering has been felt by Christ
and redeemed through the Atonement.
And I take comfort in knowing that Jonah and Adam—two sweet boys that I
only briefly met—have touched the lives of so many people, near and far.
I want to be a better person, cherish my relationships, and be as close
to Christ as they were.
And I will! I will!
-Hannah
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