Matt Mooney - A Story Unfinished: 99 Days with Eliot

Reading Eliots story is an ushering into the holy grace of God everywherethe art of now that could make life a masterpiece.

Ann Voskamp, author of
One Thousand Gifts: A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are

A Story Unfinished reminds us all that God is ever present and near. My heart is broken but my soul is inspired by this story, and Im better for reading it. This book will grip you and change you. Eliots story reminds us to cherish each day and live life to the fullest.

Brad Lomenick, president of Catalyst and author of The Catalyst Leader

Matt Mooney will take you on a remarkable journey of words through these pages. Expect laughter, tears, and to fall in love with a boy named Eliot. With his conversational style and relatable insights, Matt is a guide who will get you to a place of new perspective where youre more fully alive in every way than when you first began.

Holley Gerth, best-selling author of Youre Already Amazing

Within the pages of A Story Unfinished, Matt Mooney weaves together the surprising heights and heartbreaking depths of ninety-nine days with his son, Eliot. In so doing, he challenges us all to see the beauty that God has crafted within the painful realities that we all will face.

Mark Merrill, president of Family First and author of
All Pro Dad: Seven Essentials to Be a Hero to Your Kids.

With wit and honesty and a winsome way with words, Matt Mooney invites readers into the interior of lossa place where life is cherished, sorrow becomes a companion, questions are allowed to simmer without easy answers, and beauty begins to blossom in the dark.

Nancy Guthrie, author of Holding on to Hope and
Hearing Jesus Speak into Your Sorrow

Copyright 2013
by Matthew Lyle Mooney and Beacon Hill Press of Kansas City

2013 eISBN 978-0-8341-3035-7

Printed in the
United States of America

Cover Design: Ryan Deo
Internal Design: Sharon Page

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, or any otherexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the publisher. If you have received this publication from any source other than an online bookstore, youve received a pirated copy. Please contact us at the Nazarene Publishing House and notify us of the situation.

All Scripture quotations not otherwise designated are from The Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV 2011). Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.TM Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Permission to quote from the following additional copyrighted version of the Bible is acknowledged with appreciation:

The Holy Bible, English Standard Version (ESV). Copyright 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers.

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CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To the rascals.
This is what I want you to know.

Thanks to

My personal editor and encourager, Hillary Rector.

Jon and Andrea as well as the cast and crew at Onyx Coffee Labs who allowed me to park and type for hours at a time.

All who fed us, showed up at birthday parties, prayed for us and took care of usso that we could take care of our son.

Paul and Heather, Josh, Becky. No words suffice.

Our parents and families who have walked with us, encouraged us and loved us so well.

Ginny. You have shown me Christ through your life and your mothering. I love you.

At thirty weeks pregnant my wife, Ginny, and I were informed that our child had a genetic disease. We were told that birth was unlikely, that life was not viable, and that a bleak future awaited.

We were not told that we would get ninety-nine days with our child. We were not told that those precious days would forever change us. We did not know the love and hurt that awaited.

No prerequisite is necessary to imagine the sharp painthe inherent ache that comes with such a lossit is precisely as one would guess: the sleepless nights, the unrelenting desire for answers, the frightening reality that slides in where optimism once resided.

Such is griefzany and wild and unpredicted. But for us there is another unexpected facet, equaled in strength by the pain of the loss. This is the part of the story that we want others to hear, because it is the part of the story we could never have imagined. Thus, this is the treasure found on faraway shores we would rather have not explored.

Whereas pain came in the front door, an uninvited guest bellowing and kvetching like an obnoxious drunk, another came as well. Beauty camefrom where I cannot sayas a stranger to sit with us in silence, although beauty is not an adequate description. Neither is life nor peace nor clarity, although they all came too.

It was God. He was near.

And at the very time I wanted to yell out asking where He was, I could not do so, because the air dripped with the reality of His presence, more evident than I have known before or since. The God who would not do what I asked of Him did not leave me, but instead, He came near.

Eleven weeks pregnant. I made my way to the depressing second-level section of the law library. An Ozark winter had set in, and I forfeited battling the cold by wearing a thin zip-up sweater. I couldnt see the value in hauling around my warmer coat all day, to wear it only for the four-minute hike from my parking spot to the library door. Besides, denying my own desires was part of the gig. I reminded myself that I was going to be studying all day; warmth could take a backseat. With a slight chattering of teeth, I spread the books onto the table. I was determined to be focused.

For me, the first semester of law school had produced more time worrying about finals than actually doing anything school-related. The final grade in each class came down to one test at the end of the year. This struck me as a cruel way to structure things. I pictured myself letting my wife know that I had failed at law school and was fresh out of ideas for our future.

Of course, if I flunked out she wouldnt care. Without missing a beat, Ginny would assure me that the school had missed out on a great thing and that the teacher who failed me must have had a pathetic upbringing that yielded intimidation and insecurity upon being confronted with obvious signs of intelligence.

Yep, theyre gonna regret that one, she would say.

Were she the type to care about such things as law school success, she would have been long gone. The Lord knows I had given her ample ammunition in recent months to forego the good-wife role and tell me just to get a job. In six months she had smiled through two moves, and now I had dropped us squarely into her nightmareFayetteville, Arkansas.

Having grown up in a farming community of five thousand in the Louisiana delta, she had already made the decision to spend the rest of her years exploring a life not found in small towns. She bit her faithful lip, but we both knew she preferred citiesthe bigger the better. She swears that cities reveal Gods creativity.

Her adjustment to Fayetteville had been slow. There was a great farmers market but no one to accompany her. Meanwhile, I had no strong feelings either way about our newfound community that was equal parts hippie holdover and college town. I had grown up in Arkansas, moved on, and had no plans of a return trip, but things had not been going to plan as of late.