Rainbow Tears

It's been said that when there are hard circumstances that make you cry but there is something right in the middle of the situation (perhaps unexpected kindness or some unforeseen blessing) that makes you smile in gratitude - the tears you shed are "rainbow tears."

 

I've had a lot of reason to shed that kind of tears in the last year and a bit. As most of you know, our daughter Arielle moved "out West" last summer to make her mark in the world. Things didn't turn out the way she expected, but there were some wonderful moments, particularly on September 17 when she had an amazing spiritual experience that transformed her emotions and melted her lifelong fear of being alone. But her circumstances were such that she was soon homeless, living in her car, getting more and more fatigued ... and on October 22 she had a car accident from falling asleep at the wheel - and she died.

 

And then the rainbow tears started happening thick and fast. People were so. incredibly. kind. Such an outpouring of love and graciousness that we never expected in our lifetimes, was immediately and consistently shown to us, lavished on us, healing us. People gave of their time to sit and listen to us talk. They loved us, prayed for us, thought about us, told us they thought about us, and those who were able to do so donated money to either our named charity, to the Gideons, or to help pay off her final expenses. To each and every one of those people who reached out to us, we owe a deep debt of gratitude. That love helped us, made it easier to be who we are, to be honest about our feelings.

 

Photo "Fountain" courtesy of dan at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

 

And last night, I found out that a dear friend's child was in a serious car crash. The young person survived, but the injuries are severe - potentially life-changing. And the love and outpouring of caring that was lavished on us is now abounding toward my friend, her child, and the rest of the family.

 

I was talking to my friend earlier today. She was saying that she realized that this must bring back memories (and it does, oh yes!) and some "why"s.

 

It's strange but .... I never once entertained that thought. I was just so grateful that another mom didn't have to bury her child. So instead of what she expected me to say, I expressed my gratitude. And as she shared with me what the next days will hold, and what progress has been made since only two days ago, I was able to show my emotional and prayer support to her and her family.

 

And I found myself shedding some more 'rainbow tears.'

This is Why

Today, at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in what is the 11th year of this millenium, I stood for a minute of silence to honour those around the world who are sacrificing or who have sacrificed so much to save so many from tyranny and terror.  

War is hell.  

I have very little idea of how horribly wrenching, how diabolical war is.  Only by reading and hearing the stories of those who were (and are) there can I even begin to understand the depth of sacrifice made by those who served and still serve.  How they paid, how they still pay for that sacrifice every day - with visible AND invisible scars. 

This image of a soldier and a Haitian child holding hands
I found through Google Images at :
http://www.acclaimimages.com/_gallery/
_image_pages/0420-1002-2714-0442.html

Being a pacifist at heart, I wonder sometimes why anybody would voluntarily choose to put his or her life at risk, to enter the very jaws of death.  And then I see the images - soldiers making a difference in people's lives, the incredible gratitude expressed by those whose lives have been impacted - and I read or watch the stories of those who have served ... and would do it again in a heartbeat.  

I remember vividly that one of the pictures that held a prominent place on the wall when I was growing up was a photo of my favourite uncle, who served as a very young man in the Korean War.  It was framed in gold-tone, and had an inscription under it with a silver banner-background, which said, "PER ARDVA AD ASTRA" (per ardua ad astra) - Latin for "Through Adversity to the Stars" - motto of the Royal Canadian Air Force.  When Uncle returned from overseas, he developed severe psoriasis - which the doctors said was a nervous reaction to all he had seen over there.  To this day he has never once spoken freely of his experiences.  Yet all he must have endured still speaks for him.

So the answer to my question about why - though it is hard to accept - starts to emerge. 

When I look at my children and try to imagine some despot trying to take over and steal their lives, their freedom from them, I start to understand why.  

When I see photographs of soldiers helping children in war-torn countries to get medical help or carrying them to safety, I start to understand why.  

When I hear stories of those who looked beside them in the trench after an explosion threw them several feet - only to see a crater where a friend had once been - yet who picked up their gun to try to survive and still save those who were left, I start to understand why.  

When I watch the people standing at the cenotaph every November 11, rain, snow, sleet or cold, wearing uniform, poppy, and hearing aid from being too close to the big guns on board ship, considering themselves to be the lucky ones because they made it back, and their fallen comrades to be the heroes because they didn't - I start to understand why.  

Some things are worth fighting for.