STORMS AND RAINBOWS

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...

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