The bells jingled softly as we entered
the jewelry store. A pretty middle-aged woman came up to us
with a bright smile.
"Hi! Can I help you?”
“Well, I'm not sure...” I replied.
“I have a friend who lost her baby through miscarriage and I'd like to
get her a gift. But I'm not sure if I should give her something in
remembrance of the baby in heaven, or in celebration of the Rainbow
Baby we are praying for.”
The sales clerk's face flooded with
compassion. “Speaking as a mother, I think she might prefer
something to honor her grief of the child she lost. I mean, speaking
as a mother... who has lost a child.”
“Oh, I'm so sorry.” My husband and
I replied.
“Thank you. It's... I just... after
losing my son, a friend gave me a pair of angel wings, and they mean
so much to me. Come, let me show you.”
As we walked across the store, Dickie
asked, “How long?”
“Pardon me?”
“How long ago did you lose your son?”
“It's been four years.”
“Wow. Four years without your
boy... my heart hurts for you.” I said.
She stopped in front of a display
cabinet in the back of the store and began showing us lovely charms
with angels and wings.
“We almost lost our son.” Dickie
said, softly.
We both looked back at him in surprise.
Her face immediately filled with concern.
“Our son... we have a son who
struggled with addiction. Drugs almost took him away from us” he
said.
Her hand covered her mouth and her eyes
filled with tears. She looked at Dickie and said, “That's exactly what happened. My son died of a drug overdose.”
I could no longer speak, but stood in
tearful silence as I felt heavenly cords gently wrapping the three of us together in a sacred connection.
My sweet husband put his hands on her
shoulders, looked into her sad eyes and said, “It wasn't your
fault, you know.”
She nodded.“I do know. I mean... I
think I know. Most days, I believe it.”
I said, “We were good at blaming ourselves, too. But even during his recovery, our son told us that we
didn't cause his addiction and we couldn't cure it. It's simply a
horrible disease made deadly by the wrong choices.”
She smiled through her tears, grabbed
my hand and said, “Thank you. Thank you for that – I needed to
hear those words today.”
I told her we were honored she had
shared her story with us.
We all took a moment to wipe away the
tears, oblivious to the other customers around us.
Then she began to tell us about a special
sign from God she received shortly after the death of her son. She
was having a particularly difficult day and had been driving around, trying to stop crying long enough to buy groceries. Finally able to collect herself, she noticed a group of teenagers selling items just outside the store entrance. They tried to get her attention as she walked by, but
she waved them away and continued inside.
On her way out of the store – against
her will - something
made her stop at the group she had previously passed. She
walked up to one of the teens and said, “Okay. What are you raising
money for? What is this 'Teen Challenge of Texas'?” The young
girl explained that they were an organization dedicated to helping
teens recover from drug addiction. She couldn't believe it. She shook her head in wonder and irony as she reached into her purse for a donation.
The kids thanked her and she turned to go. “But ma'am!” they
called to her... “You forgot your stone”. She turned back and
saw the girl pointing to the end of the table where there was an
array of small, smooth stones painted with various Bible verses. “Would you like to pick out a Scripture Stone?” She shook her head and said, “No, it doesn't matter. Just pick out one for me.”
The girl handed her a stone.
Painted brightly across the stone was Luke 23:43.
Not recognizing the scripture, she put
the stone in her pocket and drove home. Later that afternoon, she remembered it, pulled the stone from her pocket and slowly rubbed her fingers across the scripture.
She picked up her Bible and turned to Luke 23:43. As she read the
words of Jesus, a sense of peace and wonder settled over her troubled soul...
“Verily I say unto thee, today thou
shalt be with me in paradise.”
This time, her tears were not those of sadness, but of
gratitude. God, in all His wisdom, had sent her the very message her heart had been
crying out for... the assurance that her son was safe with Jesus.
“What a beautiful story.” I managed to say.
“God loves you so much that He wanted you to know you will see your son again. He is in your future.”
She smiled and replied, “Yes, I truly believe that. He was a good boy.”
We hugged each other – not with the
quick embrace of strangers, but with a deep connection forged by the Spirit at work within us. We knew our encounter had been no mere coincidence.
As Dickie and I we were walking out the door she
called to us, “Please... will you tell your son about mine?”
We assured her that we would, and that we would never forget her, either.
A few days later, I sat down with my son and told him of our Divine Encounter. I told him but for the
grace of God, I could have been the grieving mother and she could've
been the one telling us how well her son is doing.
JP replied, “But Mom, you were a
grieving mother. The son you told her about did die.
And I thank God that part of me died."
He continued, "Mom, I don't know why I'm still here.
It's not because God loves us more. It's not because that lady
didn't pray as hard for her son as you did for me. It's nothing we
deserved or can make sense of. There is a verse that says, 'It rains on the
good and the evil.' (Matthew 5:45). We don't have to understand, we just need to be grateful for today. I'm grateful
that He gave me a chance to make up for the years of lost sleep and worry that I put my family through. I am lucky!”
“No, not luck. You are nothing less
than a blessing.” I assured him.
He smiled back at me with that
beautific smile of his... the one that has melted me since the day I
first held him in my arms. It tugged at my heartstrings, and made me sorrowful for all the Mamas missing the light of their child's radiant smile.
I seldom think of those dark days. Sleepless nights when I begged God to heal my son... to change his
heart... to rescue him and keep him from harming others. As the
years passed and the storm raged on, I found myself praying words no
parent should ever pray. “If he can't overcome this,
God... please, take my boy safely home with you.”
Even during the times when I almost lost him,
God sustained me with hope that I would see my son again in heaven.
As my man-child patted me on the back and walked away, I
was swamped with the fullness of God's redemption; overwhelmed by His perfect grace.
I had gone into a jewelry shop searching for a special gift to give a Rainbow Mom - a precious friend who had been given another chance to
create a miracle with God.
I left the shop in humble realization that out of the stormy
darkness of desperate days, the God of Miracles had given me another chance, as well.
It's never too late to be a Rainbow Mom...
