Rainbows and Prayers

"Lord, I want to know your ways more and more... This is my cry; give me an endless love and thirst for you... That is my cry to you forever, Amen.       Yours only, Rebecca Holmes"                  

-Diary excerpt dated March 18, 1993  (I was 11 years old)

Last week during his nightly prayers Theo asked God to send him a rainbow, preferably soon.

I thought to myself, "Good thing we live in Hawaii!" and promptly informed him that he would be seeing a rainbow sometime during the weekend.  I was sure of it.

On Saturday while driving to Costco, we saw it, slightly foggy and indistinct, but as we rode along the colors became increasingly bright, almost sharp, and ten minutes later it was a full-fledged rainbow stretching across the sky complete with a double.  Yup, there were two of them. 

Theo was ecstatic.  I was happy his prayer was answered.  Theo thanked God and Vincent for sending him the rainbow(s) and then informed us that when he goes to heaven he's going to make it rain for a long while.  Great.  Double great.  

These days Theo seems to be talking a lot about when he gets sick and dies and goes to heaven like his brother.  I've had "rational" conversations with him where I informed him of the low probability of death for a child his age.  We talked about statistics, how most kids in our country don't get cancer.  At other times I've tried different approaches - we've discussed how it is to miss someone you love, how it hurts to wait to see them, but today when he brought up the topic of his death yet AGAIN, I felt like having a fit.  I don't like having conversations with our 4 year old son about his OWN death.  I don't EVER want to think about it, EVER!  I hope I'm long gone before he kicks the can.  So today, when Theo brought up the topic of dying, I felt like having a very angry talk where I would inform him - yes, instruct him - that he was NOT going to die anytime soon, much less get SICK and die, that I was simply NOT going to allow it.  Because I can control things like that, dag nabit! 

Only I can't.  Obviously.  And that stinks.   

Perhaps at the end of my story I'll be able to look back and see how all along my life was an exercise in surrender - the surrender of control, ambition, treasure.  And how with each surrendering, each large and small death, I was brought nearer to the heart of God, the one who lost (and then gained!) it all.

That would be an answer to one of my earliest prayers.  

Open

On our second night here in the Philippines I woke up feeling rather warm. Our a/c was blasting, but the door was open and so the cold air was leaking out into the hall.

This is the same door I securely latched and locked from the inside before being the last person to get into bed. I even wondered to myself while I was locking the door about what kind of metal the latch was comprised of. For the record, the latch is out of Theo's reach (designed that way so he can't get out and climb on the not-childproof stairs.)

I wasn't freaked out at first. After a few minutes I began to wonder how the heck it became unlocked from the inside with no wind and nobody opening it (neither Dan or I sleepwalk, and we were safely ensconced underneath the covers when I woke up) and so I looked in all closets, verified that all our stuff and persons were present, and then promptly went back to sleep.

The next morning I found out that Theo dreamt he and Vincent were playing together with a big white balloon. Theo said he felt "happy and proud" and that Vincent was "getting bigger" and he can "almost" walk.

So I think that Vincent and his baby-sitting angel came to see us. I know he didn't need to physically unlock the door, but I think it was a message letting us know that something special happened, that someone was there.

I know, it sounds weird. But Vincent's as real as you or me, and of course he's going to visit us. Night is a perfect time since I'm usually not raging or crying in my sleep, so he can visit me without seeing my pain. In fact, I'm told by my hubby that I look rather happy as I sleep. I'd love for Vincent to see me at my best, even if it's when I'm sleeping.

Maybe next time I can even join in the balloon game.

A Small Grace

Today I was running late to a counseling appointment.  Since I was in such a rush to drop Theo off at preschool, both he and I ran from the parking lot of the school all the way into his classroom. Theo thought it was fun.  I was a bit breathless.  I signed him in, got back to the car and was almost at the counselors office when I realized the pendant had fallen off my necklace.

This pendant was a silver replica of Vincent's fingerprint.

You see, I had molds taken of Vincent's fingerprints a few weeks before he died.  Through etsy I found an artisan who worked with fingerprint jewelry and they made me a gorgeous fingerprint necklace that I received in the mail a few days before Vincent died. This necklace wasn't stolen during our break-in, as I had been wearing it at the time.  But now it was lost.

I called the preschool quickly and talked Mrs. Nancy, one of Theo's teacher, who started to look for it.

About halfway through the counseling appointment I got a phone call from the preschool director. They found the pendant!  Now all I have to do is fix the bale.

...I wish all our problems were solved this quickly!