“Do you want to see the blood moon?” I ask, uncertain what the answer will be. “Wow.” he whispers in reply to a suggestion for a quest together on this brisk autumn morning. He peers out the window looking for the moon. I tell him to get his shoes and watch him slip his pyjama covered feet into angry bird sneakers. Uncertain of what to expect he announces “it’s dark” to me and I see hesitation in his body before he commits himself to the outdoors which are so much like night. We walk together into the darkness to find the moon.
We reach the end of the driveway. He looks up and acknowledges the moon. We stand together looking for a few moments. It’s not the usual moon but he tires of it quickly and so begins a dance back to the house as he’s cold. His shoes light up in the darkness and it amazes me to see the red lights hover midair. It would seem his feet rarely touch the ground. Inside he settles down at his desk. He surrounds himself with work books and markers, with pens and paper. He wants to learn, create, colour. He craves knowledge and connection. We work together and apart. I begin to make breakfast. He flits in and out of the room, narrating his steps, happy and content. His chatter fills the halls and my heart. The messy chaos of this morning is perfect.
Just a few short months ago none of this would have been possible. We had little of this. Moments were wonderful of course, just different. I worried more. I carried fear in my heart for what would come for this quiet, shy boy. Now there is peace. Now he knows growth and opportunity and it is wonderful. I’m so proud of him for all he’s accomplished. I’m so grateful we were able to find his team to help us as a family learn how to help him. I find myself looking into the future with joy. As I head into the weekend thinking about thanksgiving I find myself returning repeatedly to moments like these. I am so thankful to God for walking with us here. I’m overwhelmed by the gifts that have led us to this place. I’m full of praise and thanksgiving for the ‘normal’ that I do not take for granted. Thank you God for this time, this place, this life.