"It is Such a Secret Place, the Land of Tears"

Those who love me know that life has been an adventure and a bit hard of late. I am downplaying it because I can't and won't discuss the details. Let us just say that I have spent more time tearing out my hair in frustration over my daughter's problems and my inability to solve them than I have spent doing anything and everything else. I love her. She loves me. She is very sick, damaged, hurt, manipulated, and manipulative. She is a child for heaven sakes, and she doesn't know how much her antics hurt me and my husband. I KNOW she does not WANT to hurt us. I KNOW she can't help her awkward desperation.

Things occurred on Saturday and Sunday that both frightened and worried Doug and me. We are not equipped to handle this level of abuse whiplash. Things are coming out of the woodwork in ways that would shock most naive people who never have experienced or worked with abused children. But I have; I have worked with rape hotlines, child abuse centers, and women's shelters. At least two of my closest friends have gone through the hell of child abuse, and they have told me in graphic detail what happened, and what it took for them to recover and regain their lives. I am not naive; I am not a quitter; I am not blind to what we were getting into. I am not at liberty to divulge the gory details of our

situation. All I can do is hope that those of you who read this remember all the above before you ask the questions you may have.

We are giving up our daughter. We are sending her where she can get the help that her little soul is screaming for. We are letting her go so that she can heal, and it is the single most difficult thing that I have ever done in my life.

We have prayed, gone to the temple, both of us have had blessings (I actually had two blessings). We have considered putting our lives on hold to wait for her to come through treatment and hopefully be able to return to us, but God said "No." He made it very clear that Texas is where we are supposed to go, and it is not in our best interest to wait. Neither of us are happy with the answer, but I would be lying if I didn't say there has been a peace and a release of sorts since the answer has been made clear.

I don't want to hear about how it is going to be o.k. Nor do I want to hear the statements of the obvious; the trite little tidbits like, "This sucks." "I feel your pain" ... um NO you don't. Unless you have lost a child that wasn't sealed to you ... you do not know my pain. It is an ugly dark thing, and the only light is the knowledge that God is holding me, and Doug loves me.

I said only light, but that says nothing of comfort. Many of you have comforted me. Given me shoulders to weep on, words to heal, and silence to think. You have given me more than I can ever thank you for, and that is all I can say about that. I have been remembered in ways I cannot yet fathom. I love you all so much; I see your tears; I feel your sympathy filling the void that grows ever larger as the inevitable parting looms nearer; I have been remembered, and that keeps me safe.

My mom told me I knew what to do. She told me that I had within me what I needed to do this. And I know she is right . . . but not without God. Oh those I love, just know that HE is carrying me. Sorrow is the fire of refinement gilding our souls for our return to God. He will not leave Doug and I comfortless, nor will he leave my arms empty forever.

Will said it best, "Parting is sweet sorrow." This is what is best for my daughter, and indeed for Doug and I, but as is so often the case in this life ... what is best often comes at a cost. This cost was paid long ago, but for now, for this short moment in time I will taste the most minute amount of the bitter cup. I will never again take for granted the blessings of the temple. "Every life has a measure of sorrow, and sometimes this is what awakens us." My eyes are open. Bitter as it may be.

We love you Sweet Pea. We will miss you every single day.