A Rainbow In The Sky

Little children have a way of seeing life through a pristine lens, untarnished, unabashed words and actions expel from their elfin beings, often spilling opaque bubbles of joy along their innocent paths. Maybe that's why Jesus says to come to him like little children, to have faith like a child. Not an easy task when you are an adult and the world and life has left its painful scars, when the news events dim the hope you cling right hard to and maybe sometimes the sanctuary you really need in that tough moment is the presence of a tender, blameless child. It worked pure grace for me on that day.

We sat in the hallway, this little first-grade boy and me. I flipped up a flash card, eager to hear his response. It appeared he had been practicing since we met last week. We continued on in this fashion, me holding the flashcards up, and him giving all his best answers. I told him how great he was doing, and his beatific smile sparkled all the way down the hallway, leaving a trail of shiny bits of joy.

 "I'm glad you're alive," he said, his tender brown eyes gleaming bright and my mind raced to the recent church shooting, miles away from all this innocence nestled between us. I told him thank you and that I was glad he was alive also. He must have registered my distant expression, my bleeding heart for the mourners in Texas, for he continued on uttering veritable truth as only an angelic child can do.

"Because," he stated matter-of-factly, "you look old." Throngs of youthful feet shuffling on the cool linoleum. A nearby fountain spilling clean water. A cough from across the hallway. And like a magnificent  rainbow arcing across the sky on a gray rainy day, my previous sadness was washed away by this blessed, unexpected gift.

Yes, I watched movies at the Drive-in theater from the rear of our station wagon. I recall exactly where I was when President Kennedy was assassinated. I watched the Beatles debut on the Ed Sullivan Show. In black and white. I shopped at Newberry's and Lipman's and watched as black children were bused to our grade school. Vietnam and Watergate happened, Neil Armstrong walked on the moon and  I remember all of these too. And those awful eighties hairdos!

Once the remnants of laughter inside of me quelled, I took a grateful breath and held up the last card for the day. He answered correctly and I smiled wide, showing all my best, treasured, hard-won wrinkles.