*Editor's note: This article discusses child loss.
The doctor sat in a folding chair across from my husband and me and held out a single sheet of white paper—a printout of a CT scan of our two-year-old daughter’s head. Elora had been sick all evening with flu-like symptoms, then, out of the blue, suffered a grand-mal seizure that left her unresponsive. Travis and I had rushed her to the emergency room.
With a ballpoint pen, the doctor circled a large, dark spot in the middle of Elora’s left hemisphere. “It’s a brain tumor.” I grappled for Travis’s hand, desperate for something solid to hold to as my world crumbled.
Asking for a Miracle
Elora’s treatment needed to begin immediately, so the doctor left to prepare the first procedure. As soon as the door closed behind him, I stood at the head of Elora’s bed, pressed my forehead to hers, and sobbed out a desperate prayer for my daughter’s life.
We called our parents, who called family and friends, and soon, hundreds of prayer warriors joined us in pleading with God for a miracle for Elora. We understood that “the object of prayer is not to change the will of God but to secure for ourselves and for others blessings that God is already willing to grant but that are made conditional on our asking for them” (Bible Dictionary: Prayer).
If God had a miracle in store for our daughter, we would not miss out on His blessings by failing to ask.
Sometimes, His Answer Is No
Doctors and nurses fought mightily for Elora’s life, but her little body continued to decline, suffering irreparable damage, and eventually, her doctor explained that there was nothing more they could do for her.
I begged my Heavenly Father to intervene. As I prayed, He sent many strengthening and comforting words of scripture to my mind, words like, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths” (Proverbs 3:5–6, emphasis added).
Even though I did not understand why this was God’s will for me and my daughter, I scraped together every remnant of my faith and made the decision to keep my hand in Christ’s, no matter what happened, trusting that He would keep this promise. “I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you” (John 14:18).
Elora died only 30 short hours after that first seizure. Travis and I held her in our arms, pressed between our two broken hearts, and escorted her to the edge of heaven.
Deep Waters
Driving home without Elora is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. God had not given me my miracle, and it was impossibly hard to understand why.
The Sunday after Elora’s funeral, my family and I returned to sacrament meeting in need of spiritual strength and covenantal blessings. The closing hymn that day was “How Firm a Foundation.” As we sang verse four, it was as if Heavenly Father were speaking the words directly to me.
When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
The rivers of sorrow shall not thee o’erflow,
For I will be with thee, thy troubles to bless, ...
And sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.
I was, at that moment, standing in the deepest waters of my life—my deepest distress—petrified that the rivers of sorrow would completely engulf me. But God’s promise was that He would not let that happen. He would be with me, bless my troubles. Sanctify them. I didn’t know what that meant, but I wanted to.
The Blessing of Sanctification
I went home that day and began a study of the principle of sanctification and how it applied to my grief. Elder Dale G. Renlund beautifully sums up what the Lord helped me to understand:
“Jesus Christ loves to restore what we cannot restore, heal wounds we cannot heal, fix what is irreparably broken, and compensate for any unfairness we have endured. In fact, if we let Him, He will consecrate our suffering for our gain and sanctify to us our deepest distress. He will not just console us and restore what was lost, but He will use our trials for our benefit. The Savior has the power to make everything right and yearns to do so.”
Heavenly Father was offering to turn my distress into a sacred journey that would bring me closer to Him and help me become more like my Savior. I decided to entrust my heart and my path to God that day and let Him lead me to the place of healing and sanctification He could see on my horizon.
Alternate Miracles
It’s been 17 years since Elora’s death, and one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that I was wrong about miracles. I believed that because God didn’t give me the one I asked for—Elora’s life—that I hadn’t received one. But Elora’s death has taught me precious lessons, opened up valuable opportunities, and shaped me into a new person. I have been the recipient of countless blessings and miracles that could not have come in any other way.
As Elder Dieter F. Uchtdorf said:
“Often the deep valleys of our present will be understood only by looking back on them from the mountains of our future experience. Often, we can’t see the Lord’s hand in our lives until long after trials have passed. Often the most difficult times of our lives are essential building blocks that form the foundation of our character and pave the way to future opportunity, understanding, and happiness.”
God said no to one miracle. And it was the hardest no I’ve ever received. But His no made way for countless yeses. He didn’t leave me miracle-less. He just asked me to trust Him to provide alternate miracles.
Elora’s death will always be a scar on my heart, but the things I’ve learned, the person I am, and the relationship I have with Christ are sacred to me beyond measure. I have experienced sanctification. His alternate blessings have led to more beauty than I could have imagined. And I know that as I continue to hold to Him, He will safely lead me to where Elora is. I will forever trust that His promises are sure.
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