Violet's Story

As three prayer warriors completed the Walk of Jericho around the hospital seven times, Violet arrived during their seventh lap. Hundreds and most likely thousands of prayers, were being said for this Warrior Princess. She was beautiful and perfect, with curly black hair, just as I had seen her in a dream. It was surprising how well she was breathing on her own, another miracle.

 

It wasn’t long until a decision was made to life flight Violet to Children’s Hospital. I will never forget the words of a young male nurse who looked over her in the huge stretcher she was riding in and said, “She is so cute!” Just four words, but they melted into my heart. Cute she was…our Warrior Princess.  I tried to stuff down my rage for another time since the specialists at Children’s Hospital told her she didn’t need to deliver her there as previously planned. According to their predictions, there was nothing they could do for Violet. Now Roslan rumbled down the highway wearing her hospital gown in the front seat of her daddy’s truck, while her precious baby flew above, just six hours after giving birth. Violet’s daddy and I sat in the backseat.

 

We wheeled Violet’s Momma in a wheelchair up to the fourth-floor NICU and down the long hallway to the very last room on the left. Of course, her room was purple. How surreal it all felt.

 

Over the next seven days, we held her, sang to her, read her books, took pictures, made handprints and footprints on everything we could think of. We played worship music nonstop in her room so we could feel the presence of our Savior. And we hoped and prayed and pleaded and begged for a miracle. We also suffered through medical reports and test results that showed her tiny body was not functioning like it should.

 

We pleaded with God on our knees. We begged. We made promises. We sobbed. We yelled. And we looked into her beautiful face and told her we loved her forever and always. She was always in someone’s arms: her Momma, her Daddy, Mimi, Bop, aunts, and uncles. We told her about each one of her cousins and how much they all loved her. Her Bop had been looking so forward to holding her hand, and as he held her in his strong arms, she wrapped her tiny hand around his finger—another gift from God.

 

Oh, how we longed and hoped to take her on walks, ride horses with her, play in the lake, show her the Wyoming sunsets, tell her stories, give her too much ice cream, and teach her about Jesus. But it wasn’t to be so. She was going to meet Him before us, a harsh reality no one should have to face.

 

On the last night of her life here on earth, I went to the chapel in the hospital. There was no one there but God, and I got down on my knees to plead some more. I saw five angels, all clad in gold armor, who walked through the front door into the hospital. They walked in formation, got on the elevator, and went up to the fourth floor. They walked down the long hallway, all the way to the end of the hall. They slid the glass door to Violet’s room open. All the nurses watched them, but no one said a word because they all knew who they were. As they entered Violet’s room, her daddy was holding her. The fifth angel stepped up from the back and put his hands on Jace’s shoulders. He said, “Well done, brave warrior.” Violet’s earthly daddy kissed her and handed her to the angel. Ever so gently and with protection, the armored angel held her as they walked down the long hallway and out the front door. Up they went on the stairs into the clouds and through Heaven’s gate.

 

Violet’s incredible daddy was insistent that he would be the one to hand her to Jesus. He got his wish in one of the bravest acts I have ever seen.

 

One of the most difficult things we did was driving away from the hospital on July 14th. It felt like we were leaving her there. We had to keep reminding each other that she was not there, but safe in the arms of Jesus. Her Momma and Daddy are broken; they will never be the same, but Violet will be with them forever, and her purposes will continue to reveal themselves as we all surrender to God’s will and understand that we have no control over any of it.

 

The hardest part? Going on with life. The willingness to trust and accept God’s plan amid anguish is the most difficult test of faith. The courage Violet’s parents displayed was beyond anything I have ever seen and I know continues to inspire many.

 

We now live one day at a time and look for signs from God that He loves us and that He will continue to walk with us through this valley. And signs He has sent.  

 

Jace had a small garden box that he has worked diligently on all summer. Roslan pestered him to pull some green plants that seemed to be overtaking the box, but Jace refused, saying he wanted to see what they would be. Roslan’s brothers watered the garden the week Roslan and Jace spent at Children’s, and those green plants just kept growing. The day they arrived home Roslan pulled back the curtain, and in that garden were those green plants that had bloomed into Violet Bluebells! A beautiful sign from God that Violet is safe and sound, and they will see her again.

 

We have all been called to a place we never knew we could survive. We are doing it for her. We will live the rest of our lives holding each baby a little longer, being less impatient with the small annoyances, and lingering in the fleeting moments, such as smelling a toddler’s breath or feeling their chubby hand in ours.

 

Thank you, Violet, for all you gave us and all you will continue to show us. Even though we look a little weedy right now, we trust we will all grow into something beautiful as our shattered pieces are put back together. We will never be the same, but your light will always shine through those places.

 

We are so excited to build a legacy in your name by offering the beauty and magic of horses to young cowgirls! We hope and pray that The Violet Cowgirl Foundation will change the lives of many!