Ammon's talk at Abigail's Funeral
Thank you all for being here. Thank you for your presence and your prayers. Your efforts to be present and to be available has been the outpouring of love that all need through these challenging times. I know it’s tricky to know how to approach us but just remember we’re not broken and needing fixing. Your presence, your prayers and your availability have done so much.
Now,

What does a person say in times like this when expectations, hopes, dreams are met in disappointment?

I’ve decided to focus on other what I’ve experienced behind the scenes.

I can look back and recall several potent faith-building experiences across my life-span. These are sacred and not shared lightly. I pray I don’t stumble over my words too badly.

I’d like to do my best to share my heart with you all about some of the things that I’ve experienced as we learned that we were dealing with not only a very high-risk pregnancy but one that would inevitably claim the life of at least one of our baby girls.

Reflecting on this brings me back to a rather powerful experience13 years ago. My mother gave birth to my youngest sister under crisis conditions that threatened both of their lives. Like Amelia and Abigail my sister Sarah was born prematurely (incidentally Sarah is the only of my 8 siblings here with us today).

So, since you know full-well the end of this story (since both of them obviously survived the experience), it takes a bit out of the punch line. However, having been rushed to the hospital and given birth via emergency C-section my mother slipped in and out of death’s grasp for weeks. During those very stressful conditions my father understandably didn’t get much rest. On one particularly difficult night when it wasn’t clear what my mother’s status was, I remember the phone awakening me at about 4 am. It was obviously the hospital; as my father answered the phone I remember a powerful and unexpected spiritual impression asking me, “if that is the hospital informing you that you’re mother has passed away will you be okay?” I was almost surprised by the answer.

I knew in a way that defied logic and reason that yes I would be fine and my family would be also. It would demand much of me but we would be fine.

I’ve always remembered that experience as being one where God spoke peace to my heart and taught me something about Him, about me, and most importantly about my relationship with Him.

Similarly when Melanie and I learned that Abigail was not progressing normally we faced a few minutes of ambiguity where we weren’t certain what the outcome would be “What could it be?” “Would we have a child with disabilities?” “Would we care for a terminally ill child over the span of years?” At that time I was faced with these questions that I’ve been frightened of throughout my life. Almost unnervingly and just as surprisingly this same divine peace returned to whisper to my soul that everything would be fine IF I continued to trust in and follow my Savior.

Within minutes we learned that one of our girls had a fatal condition that would take her life shortly after birth. To call this news “difficult” is putting it mildly; after the doctor left the room Melanie and I held each other and cried for several minutes. The news was hard to bear AND yet in the midst of the pain of the hours that followed the Holy Spirit said again like it has in dozens of key points in my life, “YOU CAN HANDLE THIS and you’ll be just fine.”

As I headed in to work that afternoon a Christian song on the radio spoke the words that my soul related to: “At Your feet I cry, in Your arms I rest” (Fernando Ortega, "No One Else").

Melanie and I prayed for strength at the moment of the news and throughout the time that followed. Every single time I found myself drawn back to the scriptures in both the Holy Bible and in the Book of Mormon as well as to words of the living prophets. Even when logic and reason defied the simplicity of this act, my loving Heavenly Father has blessed me with an amazing outpouring of his Love by meeting me with comfort and understanding even through these difficult spirit stretching experiences. Repeatedly throughout the ordeal I’ve described it as an ache in the gut and a peace in the heart. “At Your feet I cry, in Your arms I rest.”

As you all know, Melanie was admitted to the hospital and we faced one week after another separated from one another. Then the stress of other family and personal issues mounted and we faced sudden labor and the death of our little one. Yet there were quiet assurances throughout these events from my loving Heavenly Father that ALL OF THIS was according to his divine plan. AND as this is part of his plan I could choose to go with it in faithful obedience and soul searching, or to break myself against his will for me thus losing the blessings of strength and growth that he held in store.

Therefore, although the recent events have been difficult and at times so very overwhelming: it is the witness from the depths of my soul that not one of these events has been a tragedy; each of them has opened a divine door of strength and has been an answer to prayer in a way I’m only beginning to understand.

For example,

I pray for an increase of love - he gives me a fertile emotional garden in which to grow it.

I pray for emotional and spiritual strength - he gives me emotional weight to lift.

I pray for determination and self-control - he gives me opportunities to test my resolve.

I pray and work with Melanie to build our family for over 5 long years with no success and he gave us the means and the ability through the miracle of modern medicine to test our willingness to pursue this goal by making it abundantly difficult but possible.

I pray for the opportunity to teach my son lessons of eternal significance and he blesses us with a special daughter to teach us the fragility of life and to point our minds towards the very things we are to learn.

I pray for the ability to know my Lord and Savior better, and he gives me opportunities to be “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3).

Abigail is an answer to prayer. By the authority that He has given me, while she was alive I blessed Abigail that she would hold a special place in our family; now I see that she already has. I have quiet assurances from those earliest moments until now that my holy and loving Father in Heaven has a larger plan for us in these events. (We weren’t certain what these purposes were at first, we wanted to stay open to all options, we offered Abigail for tissue or organ donation before learning that she’d be an unsuitable donor.)

Life and death touches all of us sooner or later. In the immortal words of one of my favorite composers:

Into every life a little rain must fall

And losing one you love is like a storm

But storms are passing (“I hear Leisha” MWS)

Thomas Monson, the man I sustain as a living prophet of God, recently said, “Through tears and trials, through fears and sorrows, through the heartache and loneliness of losing loved ones, there is assurance that life is everlasting. Our Lord and Savior is the living witness that such is so” (Thomas S. Monson, “I know that My Redeemer Lives!” Ensign, May 2007, 25 emphasis added).

Through recent events I’ve been reminded that nothing mortal is ever certain. Physical or tangible influences are not more powerful than the immortal or the spiritual. Thus, it is HOW one lives and not how long a person lives, that truly matters. It is not the check marks on the days of the calendar that carries lasting value but the checks of conscience on how one lives today. Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. Abigail reminds us of this. So as I watch her come startled into this world, struggle briefly, and then pass peacefully I’m reminded of the truth of the words of modern prophets that “there is no tragedy in death, but only in sin” (Spencer W Kimball Brigham Young University Devotional, Provo, Utah, December 6,1955).

Therefore, if I move in line with my Father’s plan, the only thing that I make certain in my life is that while I live TODAY I can and will strive to live a life that blesses others in righteousness. That is power! That is peace! That is within my hands! That is something that my sweet girl has taught me in a few minutes and without words: imparting more wisdom than those who believe themselves to be wise try to spend hours in lengthy debate or instruction. As death approached and as my precious daughter passed from her tiny mortal body while holding my finger something amazing happened. As I saw her little almost-three-pound frame accept and welcome the inevitable, I saw peace in her face and she looked quite tranquil. This is the same peace I experience in my life as I accept God’s will for me throughout this ordeal and in other areas in my life.

The passing of my daughter was a sublimely powerful spiritual experience where I came to better know my Heavenly Father and His Son Jesus Christ. Through the emotional roller coaster I’ve experienced the still deep waters of his grace. Some might be tempted to ask “why would a loving God allow this to happen?” I believe that part of the answer is that he simply wants me to be more like Him.

My recent life has stretched me and pulled at my soul in a way that has not been so since my mission. A line from the Talmud says, “the deeper the sorrow the less tongue it hath.” I experienced a mixture of sadness, joy, deep gratitude, disappointment, and even emptiness in prayer where it’s hard to find the words. Even my blessing of Abigail felt a bit mechanical but then the peace returns, at times so powerfully and intensely that I can almost touch it tangibly. So amidst the flurry of emotions and uncertainties remains this one certainty born of the Holy Ghost for me and my family: God lives, he loves my family, he wants me to coincide with his will so that I can be forever with my daughter, Abigail, and the rest of my family for all of eternity. As I’m reminded of this certainty the turmoil ceases and in its place is only a quiet stillness and reassurance reminding me that this (though difficult) is far from a tragedy. It is an answer to prayer, an evidence of His keen interest in my life and his stalwart presence in my emotional tempests.

Indeed,

Into every life a little rain must fall

And losing one you love is like a storm

But storms are passing.

Therefore, as I personally experience his almighty sovereignty over all things whether they be unpleasant or evil, I press forward with a renewed sense of purpose to strive daily to live a life worthy of His grace. In the hard times of this experience he whispers “carry on,” “move forward,” “live a strong and faithful life.” This funeral for me is about celebrating the Plan of our Heavenly Father as I understand it. Amidst these challenges I find the greatest and most practical blessing of all: the encouragement, strength, power, and drive to be a better person. I want to live a life that would make my little girl proud. I want to live a life where she will joyfully point to me and say, “that’s my dad and I can’t wait to be raised by him.”

I’ve decided to close with both my witness of the truth of the atonement of Jesus Christ’s sacrifice and the hope that this brings. Both to me are encapsulated in the following song that has always been powerful to me, but now has become sacred. I thank God for His plan, and I share this with all of you in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

Song
Where's the navigator of your destiny
Where is the dealer of this hand
Who can explain
Life and its brevity
'Cause there is nothing here
That I can understand
You and I
Have barely met
And I just don't want to let go of you yet

(Incidentally, I would mess up the divine plan if it were left up to me and my desires. I want her here, but then I’d miss out on all the growth and blessings that the Lord has already graced me with and has in store for me…)

[Abigail], hello, good-bye
I'll see you on the other side

[Abigail], sweet child of mine
I'll see you on the other side

And so I hold your tiny hand in mine
For the hardest thing I've ever had to face
Heaven calls for you
Before it calls for me
When you get there save me a place
A place where I can share your smile
And I can hold you for more than just awhile
(MWS, “Hello, Goodbye”)


Talk given by Jeffery Ammon Larsen on 2/20/10, at the funeral of his second daughter Abigail Grace Larsen (who died about 40 minutes after birth on 2/16/10).