A follow up report on the bottle. Good news: Anders is happily taking a bottle now. Bad news: as children often do, there is no logical reason why he switched teams from haters to takers. Thus, we are thrilled, but anyone desperate for helpful hints or tips must look elsewhere. Thanks still to all who offered help.
Tomorrow is a welcomed occasion at the Mooney house as football season is upon us. We live in the shadow of Razorback stadium, wake up to ESPN Gameday, and bicker constantly about Arkansas vs. Alabama. Ginny dresses the kids in Alabama gear while I teach them to call the Hogs.
However, a season far greater than football has arrived while the weather changes and leaves turn. These are the days of the year that we spent with our son. These moments are always holy to us- a hallowed ground, a window to greater realities.
One of the great reminders that autumn ushers in is the challenge to live in light of the lessons we have learned. There is an unseen pull toward normal. Without a battle, my default settings take over and plot the familiar course toward the province of the pathetic- a home to comfort and safety as well as other mirages that sound alluring but slowly kill us as they choke out all faith, wonder and mystery. God was not where I thought he would be. I have held my miracle son for unpromised moments and walked with him to the end; in doing so, I glimpsed a better way. I saw beauty within the ache, hidden there in the lowly- on display for all who stoop low and behold.
How do I live in light of this today? The me that misses Eliot, that eagerly awaits football season and celebrates the fact that Anders took a bottle?
I am not sure, but I am dead set on figuring it out. For much of life is found away from the mountaintops and valleys, in the Kansas-flat realities of mundane activity. But I think there’s wonder and awe and beauty there too, I’m just trying to find it.
85 Comments
A follow up report on the bottle. Good news: Anders is happily taking a bottle now. Bad news: as children often do, there is no logical reason why he switched teams from haters to takers. Thus, we are thrilled, but anyone desperate for helpful hints or tips must look elsewhere. Thanks still to all who offered help.
Tomorrow is a welcomed occasion at the Mooney house as football season is upon us. We live in the shadow of Razorback stadium, wake up to ESPN Gameday, and bicker constantly about Arkansas vs. Alabama. Ginny dresses the kids in Alabama gear while I teach them to call the Hogs.
However, a season far greater than football has arrived while the weather changes and leaves turn. These are the days of the year that we spent with our son. These moments are always holy to us- a hallowed ground, a window to greater realities.
One of the great reminders that autumn ushers in is the challenge to live in light of the lessons we have learned. There is an unseen pull toward normal. Without a battle, my default settings take over and plot the familiar course toward the province of the pathetic- a home to comfort and safety as well as other mirages that sound alluring but slowly kill us as they choke out all faith, wonder and mystery. God was not where I thought he would be. I have held my miracle son for unpromised moments and walked with him to the end; in doing so, I glimpsed a better way. I saw beauty within the ache, hidden there in the lowly- on display for all who stoop low and behold.
How do I live in light of this today? The me that misses Eliot, that eagerly awaits football season and celebrates the fact that Anders took a bottle?
I am not sure, but I am dead set on figuring it out. For much of life is found away from the mountaintops and valleys, in the Kansas-flat realities of mundane activity. But I think there’s wonder and awe and beauty there too, I’m just trying to find it.
85 Comments
-
on September 3, 2010 at 10:14 pm
Love this. Love you guys.
-
on September 4, 2010 at 7:37 am
What about Hazel???
-
on September 5, 2010 at 3:29 pm
Beautiful words. May you and Ginny relish in the precious memories of the season you spent with Eliot on earth. May you continue to convey your hope in Christ through your story and may others use it as a catalyst for reflection and redemption. May you hear the whispers and witness the message that God is trying to convey to you as you navigate through teething, bottles, crying, mortages and grocery shopping, and last but not least….RoLL TiDe;)
-
on September 13, 2010 at 9:37 pm
I come from to to time to see your blog. i know you must get this a lot, but you and your family give me hope. that through disaster does come peace. I saw this video and thought of your blog immediately . Nothing can break the love of a family.
-
on September 23, 2010 at 7:52 pm
You write so beautifully and convey many of the same feelings I have after losing my daughter. I feel this constant struggle and pull between trying to live my life for a higher purpose while also just trying to just live my everyday life.
Wishing you and all of your family the very best!
Love this. Love you guys.
What about Hazel???
Beautiful words. May you and Ginny relish in the precious memories of the season you spent with Eliot on earth. May you continue to convey your hope in Christ through your story and may others use it as a catalyst for reflection and redemption. May you hear the whispers and witness the message that God is trying to convey to you as you navigate through teething, bottles, crying, mortages and grocery shopping, and last but not least….RoLL TiDe;)
I come from to to time to see your blog. i know you must get this a lot, but you and your family give me hope. that through disaster does come peace. I saw this video and thought of your blog immediately . Nothing can break the love of a family.
You write so beautifully and convey many of the same feelings I have after losing my daughter. I feel this constant struggle and pull between trying to live my life for a higher purpose while also just trying to just live my everyday life.
Wishing you and all of your family the very best!