My treasure

I just got back from the funeral of a baby who died just weeks before he would have been born.  Funerals aren't something you like, but they are occasionally something you need.  You're confronted with unimaginable thoughts, impossible to face, that if they occur at all on a normal day are quickly pushed aside. 

I can't even begin to take in the enormity of loosing one of my beautiful children.  My beautiful little ones are so much of my life that I honestly don't think I could continue to exist without them.  And yet life goes on, and so do we all, until it's our time.

Life gets in the way of what's truly important so often that it's appalling.  A funeral like this allows you to step back and see so much of life for what it really is--an overly busy, second class distraction.

I love to go into Sahara and Gavin or Dallin's room after they've gone to sleep at night.  I'll do it once or twice to check on them and once again on my way to bed.  Often I'll kneel by their beds and just watch.  I'll hold their hand or run my fingers through their hair as the lie peacefully.  Who they are is laid bare then.  No masks, no pretenses, no distractions.  They are who they are, and they're wholly beautiful.  In those moments I'm truly me, in the moment, uninstructed by the rest of the universe.  And tell them each time the truest and most important things I know:  That I love them, that they are good, and that they are mine.

In time mistakes will be made in each of their lives the may cause them to question these three truths.  But I promise you Sahara, Gavin, Dallin and whatever other children may come, I do love you.  Always will.  Always have.  You cannot know now the depth of what I feel for you, it's permanence or unshakable certainty. You cannot yet imagine they immeasurable joy this love brings me.  But some day you will. 

I promise you that you are good.  You are divine, children of God.  I see it in you so often and it strengthens my testimony. Whatever missteps may come, you are inherently good, and that I will always see the goodness in you is one the many gifts from God to a father. 

I promise you that you are mine, and I am yours.  Always.  This is no coincidence, and even if it were, it is no longer because I choose you.  On your worst day, in your darkest hour, when the rest of humanity has turned their backs, I choose you.  You and I belong to an eternal family.  That's the plan.  And that's the desire of my heart.  Any thought that I can't be good enough to merit the highest eternal reward is dispelled in a moment at the very thought of you.  If i can but remain focused on what's truly important in this life, I'll gladly do what it takes.  The Savior's atonement is no ethereal concept here--it's the very core of my religion because it is the doorway through which I can and must pass to be with you forever.