The little dark haired boy was staring down at his desk. He was positioned directly next to my Blonde (age 7) who greeted me with an atypical level of public enthusiasm.
“Mommy! You came!! I’m so glad you are here,” my classically reserved and introverted Blonde proclaimed as I approached her classroom desk.
This week being American Education week here in Virginia, meant there are a peppering of school related activities scattered throughout the week that parents would have an opportunity to attend with their child.
I had just endured a long and disappointing week in regards to a series of doctor’s appointments for my Boy (age 9), in what would prove to be a long road of specialists ahead. My heart was hurting, my mind was overrun with possibilities, and my soul was struggling with the future logistics of our large family.
The weekend before had been a mix of emotions, and though I attempted to grasp for normalization, I felt guilty in some part for the ability to even laugh and escape from reality at a dinner out with friends…. as little about our present reality felt normal.
I’d really tried to press into the quality time with my girlfriends, but as the emotional high of the evening came to a close, I literally could not force myself to drive home. A return back to my house would mean facing the same questions that had carried me through the prior week, and I honestly wasn’t sure I could do it again.
So I sat there in the van, unable to move. Then I felt myself do something I don’t do nearly enough of in my current life…..I prayed.
Actually that’s a lie…. first I got out of my van and yelled at the top of my lungs, “Nooooooo!!!” Which I’m here to say is strangely cathartic, as its super echoey in a parking garage….and then I returned to my van…and then I voiced these words.
My prayer was for peace….and a knowing I was doing all the things necessary for my child.
My prayer was for thankfulness…..and the dear friends who have stepped up to support me during the past few weeks.
My prayer was for clarity…..as appointments moved from places of questioning to places of answers.
My prayer was for power….and the strength to show up and be a participant in my own life, and the lives of my other children.
My prayer was for joy….and the possibility to see a single rainbow amidst the clouds in each day this week.
And so it was, this morning after a difficult week, and a emotionally exhausting weekend……that I found myself sitting across from my delighted daughter.
Stepping into her happy world was a gift, and as I sat their I saw a little dark haired boy out of the corner of my eye. I could feel his sadness.
Obviously his parents were unable to attend the days activities, and in a room where so many parents had been able to come…..the void was clearly felt.
I did what I always do….I was me…and I spun my web of magical delight around him. The Blonde unphased by my spirit of inclusion absorbed him into our project efforts, as I proceeded to help both he AND the Blonde complete their timeline assignments. In a matter of moments he was fully engaged in the process, eager to participate, and I could feel his joy return.
After we had completed all of the teacher’s assigned activities, he reached over and grabbed my hand, “Will you stay and sit by me at lunch too?” He asked, his eyes wide with vulnerability.
Oh my goodness…..this was a soul shaping moment…..right now……being presented directly to me. I had asked for a rainbow in the clouds, and this was my chance to be just that to a little boy.
“Yes,” I’m staying to have lunch with the both of you,” I replied as if it had been my plan all along. His face was transformed from wondering to beaming. I had witnessed magic.
As we made our way to the cafeteria, and found our place at the table, the Blonde sat to my right while the little dark haired boy took a place to my left.
I felt him move closer to me over the 20 minutes we had lunch as he asked for my help in the opening of items from his lunch. Items which I am very suspect he could have entirely opened on his own, but were simply excuses to continue to engage me.
Before I knew what was happening, he was so close to me that his body had fully absorbed itself into my left side. He would turn to talk to the Blonde and I, and then periodically he would rest his head against my chest and sigh, as he wove his fingers through the crocheted hem of my top, and then he placed his other hand onto my leg.
I could feel him literally melting into me every time I looked him directly in the eyes. To those passing by I have no doubt they did not assume I had two children in the first grade.
When I went to leave following the lunch, he threw his arms around my waist and buried his head into my stomach. “Thank you for helping me today,” he said softly.
I squeezed him close, and then thought, “no…thank you for helping me today” before actually replying, “I’m glad I was able to be here. You were my rainbow.” He just smiled.
Motherhood lived in technicolor means that there may be more gray than color on some days….but there is always….always a little rainbow to be found even amidst the clouds. You must simply ask the universe to reveal it to you, and open your heart to the possibility you were meant to receive it.
You become good at what you practice. Practice hunting for rainbows!
Summer Smith is a speaker, writer, and motherhood blogger. She and her family are currently navigating the suburbs of Northern Virginia. As the mother to four young children, Summer maintains her sanity thanks to her sense of humor, copious amounts of coffee, and Amazon Prime. Maya Angelou once said, when reflecting on her childhood, that her mother left an impression like technicolor stars in the midnight sky. Influenced by these words, Summer blogs at her website Motherhood in Technicolor, and can also be found on her Motherhood in Technicolor Facebook page.