What Breaks and What Breaks Through

At 6:30 yesterday morning, I was deep in lectio divina (sacred reading), communing with my God through Psalm 105, hunkered down in the phrase Be alert to signs of God's presence.  I imagined Him taking me by the hand and pointing out wonder upon wonder. 

At 7:00, I heard it begin to rain, though the room was filled with the bright, pinkish light of a promising sunrise.  I stepped outside to the unveiling of a rainbow...a complete arch, bursting with color...a hint of a second one appearing as one by one, each robed member of my family came to join me under the umbrella of our giant oak.   Absolute joy on our faces.  Gratitude spilling from our mouths.

Oh, what a morning had broken. 

At 4:00 I got news that a life was changed forever in my family.  My step-Grandpa Bob, dear man, hulking farmer with a barrel chest and twinkling eyes, did not see the semi truck when he pulled onto the highway.  The next thing he knew, he was in a hospital bed, broken all over. 

I spent the rest of the day trying to sort through promises and realities, platitudes and hard truths, assurances and doubts, as I listened to my sweet, little piano students make young music.  I woke up today still aching for Bob, his wife, his daughter (my step-mom), the extended family gathered around his bed in Peoria. 

I want so badly to take him by the fragile hand, ease him out under the oak, and point him to the rainbow.  But it is gray and colorless today.