I carried these words with me through the next years as I struggled to wrestle my grief and disillusionment and pain and joy and hope to the ground and redeem something new and beautiful with it all. I carried them in my heart and revisited them when I needed the reminder that this renewal may look like telephone poles but I don’t have to care. That for some things, for this thing, there was no wrong season. And like Mary Oliver, it was what I dreamed of for me.
I was also able to carry him with me in that party. His name was on our front door, on our lips, and in our minds. His spirit was felt in every corner of our house, and with it his cheer and delight was there too. For the first time since his death the joy of his spirit was prominent, above the sadness of his absence.
A few years ago I wrote a post about how I wasn't super thankful after Liam's first cochlear implant surgery. It was honest and true. I was encouraged to submit that piece to the awesome collaborative blog Coffee + Crumbs. I was conflicted about submitting it though because what was honest and true then, was no longer the truth now. So I added a little epilogue, an update on my thoughts and feelings about Liam's cochlear implant four years later. This updated essay is featured today on the Coffee + Crumbs site. I'd love it if you checked it out.
But sometimes I wonder if it’s even more that that. Maybe it’s a reminder of God’s love and care for me still. A physical representation that God cares about me enough to send me a sign, an answer to the rawest and most vulnerable questions my heart holds. These two babies and their unique hair color came during a season of my life when I so desperately needed to know that God was good. Could God’s answer to the biggest questions and fears I have about Him lie in the hair atop my daughters’ heads? An answer I desperately need to hear? Maybe it is a God thing…