Since Molly’s departure from our family, lots of life has happened. I’ve packed my family up and moved 3,000 miles from Seattle to Nashville, TN; yet the memory of Molly has remained ever present in my life. For the members our family, Molly was more than just a grand daughter, niece, cousin, or daughter: She was our hopes, dreams, desires, longings, and love. Molly was and is Christ.

For me, Molly was the taste of joy amidst the pain of suffering. She brought with her to my world the language of grief and sorrow that is so powerful I want to be rid of it. I cannot see a balloon, cemetery, sunset, or her name without being faced with the joy of grief.

I’m stalling. Fighting. Fighting to remain engaged in the struggle of my heart. Fighting to remember Molly. To remember her life, her breath, and her face. But I don’t want to remember, because remembering is too hard. Remembering puts me face to face with death, loss, pain. For me, remembering Molly calls me to remember Tennis, sports, running, and jumping. Molly saved me from my distaste for memory. Molly calls me to remember my loss and remember that death does not win. She was and is Christ to me.

My iTunes library contains a song that I fear, and as such if I know it’s about to play I will press pause or stop to ensure that I am free of it’s memory. It’s the song Rebecca, my sister, played for Molly in the hospital room and then later at her memorial service. But sometimes I let it play, knowing that the tears that will fall from my face are well. The tears are good, yet I fight them with all I can because they hurt. They leave me alone, waiting for Jesus to come and that means I have to face the loss of Molly, the loss of my legs, the loss of me. I am fighting to struggle.

As I said 5 months ago, Molly accomplished more in 7 days than most will in 77 years. And the amazing thing is that she is still present, still calling me to the engagement of life and death together. Thank you Jesus for Molly, thank you Rebecca and Jake, and thank you Molly.

 
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See also: Best Game Ever

There is no doubt that in revealing the fundamental fragility of the human condition, the disabled person becomes an expression of the tragedy of pain. In this world of ours that approves hedonism as is charmed by ephemeral and deceptive beauty, the difficulties of the disabled are often perceived as a shame or provocation are their problem as burdens to be removed or resolved as quickly as possible. Disabled people are instead icons of the crucified Son. They reveal the mysterious beauty of the One who emptied himself obedient unto death. Show they us over and above all appearances that they ultimate foundation of human existence is Jesus Christ.  – John Paul II

Kudos Matt

“Because sex is more than just a physical act of pleasure. It strips us, if just for a moment, of all of our social masks, and bares our physical desires (and some might argue, our souls) to the other person. While men may deny that happens, I can’t help but believe it does. Maybe not in everyone, but I think in more men than research shows.”

via: PsychCentral / John M. Grohol, Psy.D.

 
mhgs what no. 2 from blaine hogan on Vimeo.
 

2 More episodes seen here: http://lstudio.lexus.com/#vid1205