May 23, 2012
The school year for my seven year old son, Trevor, is in its last few days this week, and I have to say how very proud I am of him because he made the A honor roll. I never doubted he could, but then, we never expected all the family chaos to happen in his third and fourth quarter of school with the death of my mom, two bouts of the stomach bug in a month and a half, and another significant issue that's happened in our family that hasn't been good. He missed nearly two weeks of school over the last month and a half. On his third quarter report card, his math grade had dropped from a high A to a high B. We did all we could to work with him at home to get his grade back up, and he did! I just can't express how proud I am of him. He's a first grader, he has vision problems and SPD with a hypo-vestibular system, and our family has been through hell together, yet he's kept himself together enough to keep his grades up through all this.
He had an awards ceremony at school Monday and got a bunch of certificates for good grades, good behavior, good participation, a physical fitness award, a medal and an Honor Roll pin.
When I went to pick him up after school, I was running a little late because there was a major rainstorm that was dumping a monsoon on us. It was raining so hard that you could barely see more than a few feet in front of you, so needless to say, driving was not going so quickly. Eventually I made it to the destination to get him and he, my two year old, Greydon, and I began driving home. It was still raining pretty hard, but for about three minutes, the strangest thing happened.
The dark gray skies parted like a curtain was lifted and the sun shone through as bright as a day without any rain, although it was still raining just as hard. A brilliant rainbow appeared immediately; the most radiant rainbow I've ever seen. It appeared to be just yards away from where I was driving on the interstate--I could see the colors painting the ground in front of me. The boys saw it too. Trevor said the rainbow looked so close that we could drive right up to it and touch it.
As I continued driving in the next few seconds, it actually seemed like I was getting closer to the rainbow, like it was anchored to the spot across the ramp onto the interstate on which I was driving.
Rainbows...don't do that...?
I got closer and closer to it, until the colors seemed to be hovering on my windshield. It looked like a hologram right in front of my eyes, as if I could reach my hand out and wave it through the colors but not feel it...just see it and trick my brain into thinking I was touching something solid.
Just before the clouds closed up again as quickly as they opened, the rainbow's colors literally danced across and through my car for maybe a second or two. I'm convinced I actually drove through the rainbow. We could see the colors on us, around us, inside the car! The boys were going nuts with amazement, especially Trevor.
I couldn't help but wonder if that was my mom, sending her bright, beautiful smile to us from heaven to let Trevor know how proud she is of him as well. Stuff like that doesn't just happen. It's...impossible, isn't it? It happened so fast--it lasted just a few moments and it was like living something you could only dream.
It definitely made our day. :-)
I was having a really rough night last night, the day after the rainbow occurrence. There are just times when, out of nowhere, when I am not expecting it, it feels like the weight of the world crushes onto my heart and it feels like next breath I need to take gets snatched out of the air and the overwhelming grief hits me with all the force of a speeding freight train. The tears burn my eyes and nose and I usually try to fight them back, but almost never with any success. That happened last night.
I had to run an errand and took Greydon with me. As I was driving home, the grief train smashed into me out of nowhere with a vengeance. I gripped the steering wheel as tightly as I could in anger and frustration and the streetlights began to blur as my eyes clouded over with burning tears. Memories of my mom's death, the reality of her absence in my life, dumped into my mind like the flow of the rain out of the sky the previous day.
I pulled onto the main street of my subdivision--almost home. Then I thought of that rainbow the previous day, how it was so miraculous and remided me so much of my mom's lovely smile and the warmth in her voice and laughter when she'd be overcome with happiness.
No sooner had that thought crossed my mind--it couldn't have been more than two seconds--Greydon piped up from his car seat in the back and said, "I see the rainbow, Momma! It's 'Gahma Wohwie!'" (Grandma Laurie)
I was stunned, to say the least! Not only did he say that at exactly the time I needed to hear it and when I was thinking of it at that very moment, but it was dark outside and there was no rainbow at that moment. Whether or not he thought of it and meant to express it in the past tense of "saw" the rainbow, or he really experienced something as miraculous as the day before, I'll never know. I often wonder what runs through his mind because he talks about her all the time as if he sees her still here, in his presence.
All I know is that my mom told me over and over again before she died that when she was gone, she'd still be with me, and she'd do whatever she could to let me know it. She's certainly making good on that promise! I miss her more than words can say, but God is continuing to let her be my mom even from heaven. :-)