Moving Home

Utah highlighted on map | via Wikipedia

When we left Utah, we told ourselves that we would never go back, for various reasons. It was a place that we just didn’t want to be and a place that we never though we would return to live—until I received a call inviting me to apply for a job that would put us within one to five hours of the majority of our family members, which would be helpful with our daughter and her medical needs.

Our youngest came five weeks early and, to our surprise, was immediately diagnosed with Trisomy 21, better known as Down syndrome. She was born with an imperforate anus, meaning no anus formed, and three major heart defects. She had six surgeries in the first 13 months of her life to correct issues related to both. After a year and a half, we were in a routine that involved medicine, daily enemas, and therapies of different sorts.

The offer came around the time of my training in South Carolina, and the puzzle pieces started to come together. If I accepted this job offer, I would need to put our house on the market, provide my boss with enough notice to finish up some key tasks, and then work on finding a place to live in Utah. My wife would have to start the painful and tedious journey of finding new doctors for our youngest, who already had a host of amazing doctors and nurses who knew her case and knew of the strength and knowledge my wife possesses concerning the health of our baby.

Before I left for training, some friends in our ward stopped by to purchase a piece of furniture I listed online. In our short conversation, it was revealed that they were looking for a house to buy, so I asked if they wanted to come in and see ours. They purchased the house while I was at training and we closed without ever having to put it on the market. This story warrants an article of its own on God’s timing and heavenly inspiration.

When discussing the decision to move away from the doctors and resources we had already utilized around our Kansas home, we came to the conclusion that the majority of what our daughter needed had already been realized and that it wasn’t as big of a factor in returning to our mountainous home.

Autoimmune Disease Diagnosis

So there I was, a thousand miles from home, waiting for the results from our son’s appointment with the gastroenterologist. I thought, “Hey, I can do this. It’s just a diagnosis. It just confirms why he has had diarrhea and loose stools throughout his four years of life. It confirms his stomach pains. It will get us the necessary information to get him the medical help he needs.” I took time off that day from the classroom instruction with my fellow Soldiers. My wife was told that our son does have inflammation, which is evidence of Inflammatory Bowel Disease, and that they would have to rule out Ulcerative Colitis or Crohn’s Disease. Our son would have to ingest a “smart pill,” which is a camera that travels down the digestive tract and takes pictures of his system. Since he is so small, they had to place it in his stomach with a scope while he was sedated.

After I hung up with my wife, I didn’t know what to think and thought maybe I could handle all of this better if I just went back to class. Unfortunately, I didn’t give myself enough time to process everything I had just heard and as I sat in class, running through the diagnosis over and over, I noticed the looks I was receiving from my fellow Soldiers, friends, and classmates. I was getting texts from them offering support and care, and my emotions started to get the best of me. My eyes began to water and the muscle in my throat began to tighten. An opportunity opened up for me to excuse myself from class, and I was met in the hallway by my course instructor, who released me for a little longer.

These classmates became my biggest support as I was essentially alone during this time. I felt helpless and overwhelmed, but because of them, I felt strengthened and included.

Our son exclaimed with a bit of excitement, “I think I pooped out the camera! The toilet is blinking!” The camera was flushed, and the corresponding box was delivered back to the GI to examine the images. I took more time off from class to discover that he was diagnosed with Very Early Onset (VEO) Crohn’s Disease. VEO means that he was diagnosed under 6 years of age, which is rare. Crohn’s is an inflammatory bowel disease that typically affects the digestive tract anywhere from the mouth to the anus but can present itself anywhere in the body. Our son’s immune system, when turned on, doesn’t know how to shut off and begins attacking the body. While ulcerative colitis affects the inner lining of the large intestines, Crohn’s can affect any layer of the tissue and is present in the large and small intestines. This is how they diagnosed him with Crohn’s, as there was evidence in both his large and small intestines.

My emotions again got the best of me as I walked to class. So instead of class, I went straight to the chaplain to process this information with a spiritual leader. To my disappointment, the chaplain was apathetic toward my emotions and was more interested in the differences in our religion. As a Baptist, he felt to tell me how “polar opposite Mormon doctrines compare to the Baptist faith,” and in the same breath how chaplains are there to serve everyone because of religious freedom in this country. He continued to mingle in his aggression toward my faith with stories of the local church and missionaries, which he seemed to tolerate only “because of religious freedom.” I had come to find some relief with prayer, but ended up feeling more trapped with worry.

My friends continued to offer their support, and while we were all of different faiths and backgrounds, we found strength and unity in our shared beliefs. God gave me some friends who were ready to lift and support one another during this class. Together, we did so for several others during this time.

The decision to move back to Utah became solidified at this point as our son would now have to receive medication infusions every eight weeks via IV, which would take roughly 4-7 hours each time. Juggling two of our babies with medical needs would likely prove to be too much for us to do without family close by.

Restoration of Blessings Ordinance

In light of these big decisions and a heavy medical diagnosis, we were looking forward to returning to the temple. The timing of our move was about in line with me being able to apply for the restoration of blessings ordinance. We turned in our letters to Church Headquarters and looked forward to the reply that would allow me to receive my temple and priesthood blessings again. Having these ordinances and ordinations restored before making this move to Utah would allow us to close a chapter of our life, and I would be able to continue to serve in Utah without having to work with new priesthood leaders.

We would finally be sealed to our sweet baby who was born out of the covenant and my wife and I could go to the temple together for the first time in years. I would be able to serve my family and others with the priesthood and we could have it constantly in our home. This would be a blessing in the midst of our current emotional burdens.

Our pain was increased when we received a response to our application that our request was not approved and that I would need to wait another year before applying for this special ordinance. We were devastated and our pain increased. It took several weeks before having enough understanding and perspective to realize that we are still on the path and still moving toward holier things. A little more time won’t hurt and will probably do more to help. We will continue to learn how to rely on the priesthood and to invite the Spirit of God into our lives.

This means that I have to work with a new bishop and stake president in Utah, but maybe there is some design to that as well. Maybe our return to the faith will be an inspiration for others in our new home. Whatever the reason for us having to wait, we will not just wait, but prepare for that special day.

Back in Utah

To read more of Rory’s articles, click here.

We’ve made it to Utah. I started my new job, the kids have seen a good majority of their doctors, and we have been able to see several friends and family. While we are still working out a very painful living situation, we are seeing some light at the end of that tunnel. There are some things that we are enjoying and things that we are working through, but we know that they Lord has guided this process and we continue to rely on our Savior and the Holy Ghost.

The experiences that we are having are not out of the ordinary. They are the conditions of mortality. They are things that can teach us to lean on spiritual things, to rely on the Savior, to choose Him in every circumstance. They serve as a reminder that “the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared to the glory which shall be revealed in us” as we follow Christ.

I reflect on the blessings that God has given us. We have three beautiful children who are conquering life’s challenges one day at a time; children who are responding well to surgeries, medication, and inconsistent routines. We are blessed to have children who are learning to love the Lord through prayer, faith, and smiles.

Rory Mele

Rory is a recently returned member of the restored Church after years of semi-activity and excommunication. He is a husband and father to three, and an advocate to his infant daughter with Down syndrome, congenital heart defects, and other disabilities. He gained a love of writing as a trained Public Affairs Officer for the U.S. Army, and a love for the plain and simple doctrines of the Church through enduring hard things.

Photo of Rory’s daughter

We were blessed to capture pictures of her newborn, involuntary smiles. These smiles made some hard days just a little easier.

“You make me smile,” was a phrase that defined the start of the relationship I have with my wife. It was akin to “I love you” before we were ready to say it.

The 2009 country-pop song “Smile” by Uncle Kracker was our song: the one that we would sing to each other in the car and dance to when no one was looking… Because neither of us can dance.

I lost my wife’s smiles for a time by my actions. I didn’t just watch those smiles fade away, I saw them flee from me. It took some time and sincere actions to see them again.

When Madison gained control of her muscles, and her smiles became a voluntary expression of her happiness, she smiled with her whole body. Her smile lights up the room.

It was right after her full heart repair that it became critical for me to see her smile. She was lying in her bed, still sedated, with wires and tubes coming out of her. She was still connected to the breathing tube. We had to wait for that to be removed and for the sedation to wear off to even hope for a smile. The first one didn’t come until about three days later, but it felt like weeks (as you lose all track of time in those moments). But when it happened, it was the most wonderful moment. It was short-lived, and it took almost a week to get another one.

I had this irrational fear that she would never smile again. I needed those smiles. I needed that little girl’s personality to shine through during our visit, and every time it happened, my heart would swell. The time in between these moments was desperate and heart-wrenching, and those little tender mercies that she would give us were healing.

There is a scripture that puts it all together. It is found in the wisdom shared by the prophet Jacob in 2 Nephi 9:39. He teaches about the danger concerning sinning against God and declares, “…to be carnally minded is death.” I have seen that in my life: sinning against God, and having a mind and heart that are worldly and prideful can chase away the purest smile.

Jacob’s follow-up to this miserable counsel provides a hopeful doctrine: “…and to be spiritually minded is life eternal.” It was years ago that someone taught me that this phrase created the acronym S.M.I.L.E. As members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, we have so much to be happy about. We have an eternal perspective that is family-focused and divine.

As a family that has been through my excommunication process; the prognosis of our third child who has many health defects related to having Down syndrome; and balancing school, work, church, and other activities while trying to keep it together, we put on a smile and practice the counsel to be spiritually minded.

Our sweet children are excellent reminders to think of the future—not just their mortal future, but their potential beyond the grave…. And our potential as well. Of course, this counsel that being spiritually-minded brings us into the eternal world also provides gifts in this life. We find similar counsel in Romans 8:6, which tells us that living the laws of Christ and being “spiritually minded is life and peace.” The gift to smile is a promise in this life and the next.

I often find myself wanting to exclaim,

“Now, what do we hear in the gospel which we have received? A voice of gladness! A voice of mercy from heaven; and a voice of truth out of the earth; glad tidings for the dead; a voice of gladness for the living and the dead; glad tidings of great joy. How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of those that bring glad tidings of good things, and that say unto Zion: Behold, thy God reigneth! As the dews of Carmel, so shall the knowledge of God descend upon them!” (D&C 128:19)

To read more of Rory’s work, click here.

I smile at the very thought of what we have in this gospel and what we have to look forward to when we yield to the Spirit and come to Christ.

I continue to look for those smiles after every procedure and am deeply touched every time that little face brightens, her mouth widens from ear to ear, and her head sinks down into her shoulders because she is happy.

Rory Mele

Rory is a recently returned member of the restored Church after years of semi-activity and excommunication. He is a husband and father to three, and an advocate to his infant daughter with Down syndrome, congenital heart defects, and other disabilities. He gained a love of writing as a trained Public Affairs Officer for the U.S. Army, and a love for the plain and simple doctrines of the Church through enduring hard things.

Little Brother,

I want to wish you luck on your assignment to speak to your stake on the topic of “Recommitting as a Priesthood Holder” at the beginning of this new year. What a great topic. I hope that I can add some insight to this topic by sharing my experience. Feel free to share it with your stake if it will help.

As you know, I was excommunicated in the spring of 2017 for “conduct unbecoming a member of the Church”—conduct that I have since repented of and left behind me.

While I am once again a member, I’m currently in a position where I want to serve others with the priesthood, but am waiting for the time that I can have those blessing restored. While I yearn for that opportunity to serve, I know people who seemingly can serve, but choose not to or serve well below their potential.

My excommunication resulted in the loss of opportunity to offer prayers in Church, to give talks, and to offer sustaining votes. That was especially painful when the entirety of the Church stood in solemn assembly as President Nelson was called and sustained as the prophet of the Lord, and when that same prophet invited members of the priesthood to stand and sing in the priesthood session of general conference when their office was called… but I remained sitting.

I was also unable to partake of the sacrament, as I no longer had any covenants to renew, which also meant I wasn’t able to enter the temple or wear my garments. Things that I once viewed as a hinderance on my time or energy became something I craved. Paying tithing, while once a financial strain, was no longer an option and as the provider in my family, we went without that blessing.

Grandfather and I were the only two in our family who served in the United States Military, and what would have been an honor to perform became a heartache as I explained to members of our extended family that I couldn’t dedicate his grave as I was no longer a member of the Church.

When my daughter was born five weeks early and unexpectedly diagnosed with Down syndrome, a complex congenital heart condition, and complex bowel issues, I was not able to administer an initial blessing of healing, nor any other blessings for each of her five operations, including a major heart repair. I wasn’t able to administer blessings of comfort and counsel to my wife or to our other children.

I also wasn’t able to give her a name and a blessing, surrounded by family and friends… I wasn’t able to even be in the circle. I could only sit and listen to the blessings offered.

Since I was not a member of the Church during the time of her birth, she was not born in the covenant. We are eagerly awaiting the day when I receive the restoration of blessings ordinance and we can take our older children to the temple so they can witness us being sealed to their baby sister.

I am grateful for the many men in my life who hold the priesthood, in whom I have had to rely on to bless my family instead of being personally ready each day. They are ready every time I call.

I’ve had to learn humility and diligence. I have gone to the temple more times in the past year and a half than I had in the past eight years prior to my excommunication—even though I can only walk the temple grounds. I’ve immersed myself in the scriptures more now than I ever have before in my life, including when I was in the mission field. Service has become a daily observance and we look for opportunities to serve each day, though we never have to look very far.

I have a more sincere desire to study the gospel (specifically the doctrine of Christ), to pray to my Father in Heaven, and to look for and follow the promptings of the Holy Ghost.

I reached out to my mission president for support shortly after I was excommunicated, and he asked me what I planned to do with my time away from the Church. I told him that I planned to not be away from the Church and that I planned to become a serious student of the gospel. He responded in kind with this testimony and counsel:

“I know that God endows serious students of the gospel with a special kind of protection that stems from a knowledge and application of pure doctrine in daily living. Unfortunately, the plain and simple truths (Alma 37:6-7) and the necessary gospel activity that keep us safe in mortality are easily pushed aside under the pressures of life. I would strongly encourage you at this time to consider reducing the non-essential activities in your life and to simplify the essential activities in your life so that you have the time to immerse yourself in a daily regimen of scripture study and meaningful prayer.”

This simple counsel has become foundational to how my wife and I approach our daily activities. Instead of adding things to our New Year’s to-do plans, our simple resolution is to REDUCE and SIMPLIFY. Our New Year’s plans begin with a 40-day fast from social media and a minimization of television and movies, coupled with a 40-day reading of the Book of Mormon. It is our simple but important way to disconnect from the world in order to reconnect with the Lord and with each other.

The call to recommit as a priesthood holder is a call to repentance, a call to turn to the Lord for forgiveness and for change—an opportunity to become.

Christ “went about doing good”; this we know. It is something that some of our finest priesthood leaders do… But more specifically, He taught with power from the scriptures, such as when he was found at the temple at 12-years-old with the doctors, and they were hearing Him and asking Him questions. There was also the time when He overcame the advances of the adversary (His brother, even Satan), by saying “as it is written” for each temptation.

Jesus later announced His divine sonship in Nazareth by reading from Isaiah and announcing that the scripture had been fulfilled. After His resurrection, He met two of his disciples on the road to Emmaus and “beginning at Moses and all the prophets, he expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself.” He emphasized to the Nephites the importance of recording Samuel the Lamanite’s words and He instructed them to search the words of Isaiah.

Is it not our responsibility to know, understand, and apply the scriptures as He demonstrated during His ministry?

In my return to full fellowship with the Saints, it has been disheartening to see friends who once held the priesthood give way to the world and openly criticize the things that they once held sacred. It has been even more disheartening to hear priesthood holders openly dismiss the prophet’s invitation to read the Book of Mormon daily, as if it were some hard thing that was asked of them.

The first thing that a man can do to recommit as a priesthood holder is to start by reading the Book of Mormon daily, as that has been an open invitation by every prophet in our dispensation. It is the keystone of our religion. It will get us nearer to God than any other book. It contains the fulness of the everlasting gospel and a strong witness of Jesus Christ as Creator, Savior, and Advocate. Priesthood holders should read and pray individually, and ensure that they read as a family.

The question we ultimately have to ask ourselves is “If it came to the point where the gospel was taught and ordinances were administered exclusively in the home, would I be prepared to take on that responsibility for the benefit of my family and for those I minister to?”

With the new curriculum and changes within the Church, we have an opportunity to change and become in ways that we may not have considered.

I want to be very clear that it wasn’t the excommunication that prevented me from using the priesthood. It was my selfish actions that prevented me from righteously using the priesthood. The excommunication was an administrative, though prayerful, decision to aid me in my repentance process.

In reality, I had separated myself from Christ, the Holy Ghost, and the ability to use the priesthood years prior to these formal proceedings. I mechanically performed priesthood and temple ordinances unworthily, and partook of the sacrament unworthily. I literally brought damnation to my own soul as I lost progression toward holier things. I can’t recall any significant personal revelations or scriptural insights that I might have received during that time, and the opportunity to become greater than myself was diminished.

I lost the opportunity to gain a testimony that President Monson was a prophet of God, and because of that, his words never moved me like President Hinckley’s once did and like President Nelson’s now do.

I was truly “left unto [myself], to kick against the pricks, to persecute the saints, and to fight against God” (see D&C 121:33-46) before I decided to repent, which led to my excommunication. During the one year I was excommunicated, I gained more revelation, insight, and spiritual protection than I had in the six years prior when I was wandering in sin and silence, because even though I did not have the constant companionship of the Holy Ghost, I had the Light of Christ and occasional visits from the Spirit. I had a desire to know the glory and mysteries of God and I sought them out. I didn’t hold the priesthood, but I had access to the priesthood through my wife’s diligent prayers and faithfulness to her covenants. I similarly had access to diligent priesthood leaders, especially a very faithful home teacher (recently promoted to ministering brother)—another responsibility I have longed for.

The prophet is providing us the opportunity to better preside and protect our families within our own homes, and I for one am excited for these changes. After the announcement that home teaching would become ministering and high priests would join the elders, I laughed and told my stake president that I felt like I was getting baptized into a completely different church than the one I left… Not knowing the other changes that would come.

To read more of Rory’s work, click here.

This is an awesome time to recommit as priesthood holders. When I receive the restoration of blessings ordinance this spring, I will be better equipped and ready to assist my family and others with a new perspective on life and the gospel.

In all the things that I lost out on, there are so many more things that I have gained—but that is a letter for another time. I wanted to share all of this with you in hopes that it might help someone. Socrates said to “employ your time in improving yourself by other men’s writings, so that you shall gain easily what others have labored hard for,” so maybe someone in your audience might come to know that there is wisdom in faithfully exercising their priesthood responsibility.

Moving Forward,

Your Brother

Rory Mele

Rory is a recently returned member of the restored Church after years of semi-activity and excommunication. He is a husband and father to three, and an advocate to his infant daughter with Down syndrome, congenital heart defects, and other disabilities. He gained a love of writing as a trained Public Affairs Officer for the U.S. Army, and a love for the plain and simple doctrines of the Church through enduring hard things.

Her diagnosis was a surprise to us. The minute she was born, five weeks early and dark purple, my wife knew that something was wrong. Rose saw the pronounced features of our baby’s face and knew that her color was not right.

Maybe it was the two hours of sleep that I got before my wife’s water broke, or the obligation to inform my command team that I wouldn’t be to drill that morning. Maybe it was telling family that the baby was coming too early and we didn’t know what to expect, or maybe it was the panic of not being ready and trying to find a sitter for our older kids at three in the morning. Maybe it was because all babies’ faces never look right after being squished through the birth canal. Whatever the reason, I didn’t notice any major red flags when our daughter Madison finally arrived. I heard her start to cry and I was relieved. For at least 30 seconds, I was relieved.

Then I noticed her color.

Then I followed the nurse to where they were doing the initial tests, such as her temperature.

Then I was pulled aside to hear, “We went to do a rectal exam to take her temperature, and she doesn’t have an anus. This is a common symptom of children with Trisomy 21, or Down Syndrome, so we will need to order some tests. Come with me over to your wife so that we can talk to her about genetic testing to receive an accurate diagnosis.”

I wasn’t shocked, I wasn’t panicked, I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t much of anything except in the moment.

We told Rose and then I watched as my family began to get split apart. Madison went to the NICU downstairs to prepare for transport to a better facility. Rose stayed at the hospital until she could be discharged, which would happen later that night. (At 4 pounds and 15 ounces, Madison was too small to cause Rose any major damage.)

“It’s gonna get worse before it gets better,” echoed the words of a close friend and member of the high council that sat in on my disciplinary court. He counseled me to be prepared for harder times. Seven or eight months after being excommunicated and expecting Satan to push every opportunity my way, things were still so good… Until this moment. This moment when I couldn’t even bless my own child, who was in need of a priesthood blessing. This moment when I berated myself for not being ready for my family when they needed me the most. This moment when our whole life would change, and we would be on another wild adventure that wasn’t planned.

It had all been planned out. Madison would arrive healthy, then I would get readmitted to the Church through baptism, and then I would get deployed with my unit, and upon arriving home, I could apply for the restoration of blessing ordinance. From there, I would take my family to the temple to have Lyla and Cooper witness us being sealed to Madison. It was all planned perfectly, down to the very timing. And then she came early; she came with complications. My deployment order would eventually be cancelled so that I could focus on and take care of my family. All of this was going through my mind as I waited for those who could exercise the priesthood to arrive.

I told the nurse that Madison couldn’t be moved until our bishop and executive secretary arrived. They offered the chaplain, but I insisted that we needed to wait. The bishop and executive secretary arrived, blessed her and comforted me, and then Madison was transported to another local hospital with a better equipped NICU.

I went back upstairs to update Rose and then passed out on the couch, overcome with fatigue and emotion. As soon as I woke up, I felt like the worst father. What kind of father just lets his daughter leave to another hospital without following one car length behind? Rose comforted me and urged me to go, so we kissed and I left my wife there alone with her own fears and emotions.

In the 20-minute drive between hospitals, my mind flooded with confusion. “Your baby is perfect,” the OB had said during each sonogram. “All of her tests came back negative and her heart sounds great.” I thought of Rose at the hospital all alone. I thought of Lyla and Cooper, who were being watched by some close friends, the father being our faithful home teacher. I tried not to cry as I recalled my 5-year-old, Lyla, at 3:30 am ask through alligator tears, “But she’s early… Does that mean she’ll die?” and my exhausted emotional response, “She might be sick, but the doctors will help her.” I squeezed her tight and left her to cuddle with our friend as I rushed back to the hospital to assist Rose through the birth.

My mind raced until I got up to the NICU, scrubbed up, sanitized, and finally got to sit down and hold Madison. I texted Rose to assure her that I had arrived, and I updated her on our baby’s status. Then I took the opportunity to softly sing my baby that song… The one that I sing to all my kids. The one that I have been singing to them since the day we became parents. The song that would take on new depth and meaning with this little sweetie.

“We all come to earth the same way, trailing glory as we come,

And we’re placed in the arms of those who, will give us love and hope.

From the day of that first birthday, to the day we go back home,

We’re a part of someone’s family, we’re not meant to be alone.

From father to son, from mother to daughter,

We can teach them of the One

Who will bring us Living Water.

But words that we say don’t shine near as bright as what we’ve done.

It’s reflected in the hearts and in the eyes

Of our daughters and sons.”

via The Pulse, Pregistry

It all happened so quickly. By day three, Madison had a colostomy surgery so that she could expel intestinal waste since she didn’t have an anus. She would have a colostomy bag for the first year of her life (or longer), but with a few operations they could build her some new plumbing. Even up to this point, I wasn’t panicked. The Down Syndrome diagnosis wasn’t a surprise to me because of a very direct line recorded in my patriarchal blessing. In my late teens, when I read that line concerning my children, I received a confirmation by the Spirit that I would have a child with Down syndrome. The impression stuck with me for years, but I always wondered if that was my own imagination or if it was the gift of knowledge. So I was never really panicked…

…until they did the EKG and the ECHO and her cardiologist sat us down to tell us what was going on with her little ticker. We would learn that not only do 50% of children born with Trisomy 21 have a congenital heart defect, but that Madison was of the 5% that had both Tetralogy of Fallot and an atrioventricular septal defect, commonly known as an AV canal or common valve. This basically meant that she didn’t have the vertical wall dividing the left and right chambers of her heart—so instead of four chambers and two valves, she had two chambers and one valve. To complicate it further, she also has Tetralogy of Fallot, which deals with the defective artery placement. Her blood would mix, and due to the shrinking of her pulmonary artery, she wouldn’t get the necessary blood flow to her lungs.

We watched her struggle; we watched her turn blue. We were constantly alerted to her oxygen saturations dropping as the monitors seemed to incessantly remind us that our beautiful little girl was ill.

I didn’t panic with the Down syndrome diagnosis. I was okay with temporarily changing bags instead of diapers.

…but to hear that major heart surgery on our infant daughter (while she was on bypass) was a necessary step to sustain her life? That began to sting my emotions.

After returning home to relieve our babysitter, waiting for my mother-in-law’s arrival, and getting some much needed sleep, I found myself on the interstate heading back to OP Regional Hospital the next morning. Before I was even halfway there, I found myself pulling off onto the side of the road, sobbing, praying that God would be mindful of our little girl and promising Him that we would do everything in our power to take care of her.

To read more of Rory’s work, click here.

Since that desperate prayer on the side of a busy interstate, I have found way more joy than I have pain. The Lord had “also [given us] strength, that [we] suffered no manner of afflictions, save it were swallowed up in the joy of Christ,” as He had done with Alma and his missionary companions in Alma 31:38.

This strength and joy followed us through 48 days in two separate hospitals (with two heart operations at St. Louis Children’s Hospital), having to be away from our other two children, getting readmitted into the Church through baptism and confirmation. It followed us through her major heart repair and into surgeries that are repairing her plumbing so that she can defecate just like all the other kids. I can honestly testify that life’s lessons are unique and that “all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.”

To be honest, I still don’t see the Down syndrome. I don’t see the heart problems. I don’t even see the hours of therapy, the excessive medical expenses, or the hours of sleepless nights. I see my older two children dote over their cute, little “tweetie pie” (sweetie pie), who they lovingly call “Miss.” I see the many sacrifices her mother makes on her behalf, down to a very extreme diet. I see the million-dollar smile of this million-dollar baby who looks deep into my eyes anytime I’m holding her, and all I can prayerfully say is, “Thank you, God!”

Rory Mele

Rory is a recently returned member of the restored Church after years of semi-activity and excommunication. He is a husband and father to three, and an advocate to his infant daughter with Down syndrome, congenital heart defects, and other disabilities. He gained a love of writing as a trained Public Affairs Officer for the U.S. Army, and a love for the plain and simple doctrines of the Church through enduring hard things.