On the Fifth Day of Christmas my true love gave to me 5 siblings changed

What’s that one thing in your life that returns to your memory often? Maybe it even haunts you. It could be the birth of a baby, a move, a long trip, an act of kindness, or a death in the family. For me all of these come to mind when I think back to the Christmas of 1991.

My father had accepted a job at BYU and we were trading our sunny Californian lifestyle for a new life in Utah. I cried as we pulled away from the school I attended as I waved goodbye to friends who stood at the bus stop to watch me go. I didn’t want to move but that was not going to sway my parent’s decision. We packed our belongings and began to make the long drive to Utah. The trip was supposed to take 11 hours but when 5 small children and one pregnant woman are involved it takes a whole lot longer. It seemed like forever but we safely arrived and went straight to Ogden.

We stayed with my grandparents while arrangements were being made on the purchase of our home. Just weeks after arriving in Utah my mom gave birth to my sister Moriah Leilani Niu on September 26^th. It was a miraculous birth because the cord had been wrapped around her neck 3 times. We absolutely adored our new baby sister! To add to the excitement my parents were purchasing their very first home they had found in Springville.

I was so excited to have a home and especially to have my own room! Well sort of. My mom put the crib in my room so Moriah and I could share. We had a nice system going. At night when she would get up I would wake up and take the baby to my mom to feed her. I spent a lot of time with Moriah. Playing with her, feeding her, and talking to her while she lie in her crib. I absolutely loved her and felt she was my baby.

The weather turned cold and it was getting closer to Christmas time. We were all excited even though my parents knew that Christmas wouldn’t consist of much that year. They had put all of their money in to paying for a baby, a move, and a new house. On December 10 we knelt down to say a family prayer. Moriah lay in her car seat in the middle of us as we prayed. After that we smothered her with kisses and gave her hugs goodnight. Moriah had a small cold and so did my brother so my mother decided to put them in the same room that night so they could benefit from the humidifier.

Early the next morning when we awoke our sweet baby had died during the night. I’ll never forget that panic we all felt to find that she was no longer with us. As various policeman and paramedics poured in to our home that morning my mother asked me to keep all of the children downstairs with me. I took my siblings into the back bedroom and told them that we should pray that Moriah would be okay and that she would come back to life. I was only 10 years old at the time and I felt confident that God would listen and answer my prayer. I said the words aloud over and over again while we all cried. Then my father came down to give us the news that she had indeed died and that we needed to come and hold her for the last time.

We all cried and hugged and sang together. My father tried to explain death to us which we didn’t exactly grasp. We said goodbye to her as they carried her out in a large wicker basket which could have held a plant or baked goods, but it was holding my sister. Preparations were starting to be made and the mood was somber at best over the next few days.

We were in a new town where we new almost no one. But in that tragedy we made some of our greatest friends. From that day forward it was like we were instantly adopted by all of our new neighbors and by our congregation. We received an outpouring of food, gifts, and support. Neighbors watched us, people gave money to my parents to pay for a funeral, and they came and cleaned our house for the family that would arrive for the funeral. I’m not sure I can quite convey the feelings of gratitude that come when you feel so loved and cared for during such a tragedy.

Since Moriah had died so close to Christmas I don’t even think any of us remembered that our favorite holiday would be here in a few short weeks. We still didn’t have a Christmas tree up nor did we have any decorations. I vividly remember one night when there was a knock on the door. My dad opened the door to 5 or 6 BYU students who heartily shouted “Merry Christmas.” I ran down the stairs to see a giant Christmas tree and boxes in their hands. They walked in to our living room and began to set up the tree they had brought to us. A young girl pulled my mom aside and went through the boxes of gifts that they had for us.

I couldn’t believe my eyes! I was elated because it actually felt like things were normal for a few minutes and the realization of Christmas coming made me dizzy with excitement. These students showed us love and compassion and served us. They’ll never know how much that example meant to me because from then on I knew I wanted to be like them. It doesn’t take much to make a child happy. Just a plain old Christmas tree! Although we were still sad that we didn’t have Moriah with us for Christmas we had received so much from so many that we didn’t feel as hollow as we were the day she left us for another mission God had intended for her.