I've been gone a long time. A wonder-full trip to the UK. New relatives discovered, and old ones visited. The death of a dear, dear lady (Auntie Alma) who showed me what goodness is. Wind and waves and mountains. Foxes, bunnies, enthusiastic and lovely children ...
Time to begin writing again. I don't advertize when I'm away. Call it neurotic, but whatever it is, I feel safer that way. I'll return to the trip another time. Last Sunday after church, I drove to Consecon, ON to my brother and sister-in-law's. Jim, by big bro, had organized a hymn sing at St. Mary Magdalene's Church in Picton. He has such a wonderful talent. When he was 12, my parents gave him a full sized accordion and he put it on and wow!! When he was one and a half, he stood in his crib (WWII was on) and hummed Bell Bottom Trousers. His play is enthusiastic, lively, and moving. I am so proud of him, and that he is my brother.
So, I digress from the rainbow? Not really. A rainbow is a sign of hope. It is, if I use God language, God's promise that never again will I/we be overwhelmed ... It's hard to imagine and trust in the world today with so much violence and cruelty, wars and rumours of wars, poverty, ebola, AIDS, cancer, religious intolerance (putting it mildly) ... that we won't be overwhelmed. Many are. So, to speak of hope - it almost feels obscene. And yet .... we must.
On the 401, the dead boring, tiring highway to Toronto I drove through a rainbow. I didn't realize it until I looked in the rearview mirror. There it was! On the road and in the trees at the side! The weather had changed all afternoon from heavy downpour and high winds to sort of sunny to rain, winds, and dark clouds several times. I expected there would be a rainbow somewhere, sometime, but how to look when driving at 110 km/ph?
And there it was. In the looking back.
I look back at my life and realize that even when all seemed hopeless, God was there. Rainbows seemed not to exist for a long time. Others still saw rainbows when I couldn't. Others hoped, as we do for those we love when the Pit opens and swallows us. Life continued. Courage lived.
When I listen to Jim play, my heart lifts. Music, passion, a gift shared... I drove through a rainbow. I entered another at St. Mary Mag's in Picton on Sunday night. Looking across the choir at Jim playing, and singing alto again. I felt Florence Hoult beside me - as she was at St. Mark's, Longueuil many long years ago - encouraging me as I learned. I'd lean left towards her to catch the alto notes, as on my right Phyllis and Carol Millar were very (understatement) strong sopranos. And behind me cousin Mike's bass boomed along with Mr. Elliott's and ... I sensed the presence of Mum and Dad, Gram, and Auntie Eileen and so many others that have enjoyed and encouraged Jim's music through the years, hanging out in the rafters, so proud of him.
It's little things that give us hope. It's individuals sharing their gifts. It's a hug. A word. A hard question shared to which there are no simple answers. (Thank you, Millicent). A fleeting glimpse and the rainbow is gone. No proof it existed. I have no photo. But I know I drove through a rainbow, and lived another in Picton on Sunday, October 5th, 2015. Remind me, please, when I forget and feel like hiding under the bed with the giant dust bunnies.
And no, I didn't stop on the highway to look for a pot of gold. Rainbows are enough. Promises kept. Music shared. Love and Family.