Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Notes from the inside of a rainbow

While I was driving the other day, Emeth chirped in the backseat about how the leaves of autumn made him feel like we were "living inside a rainbow." At the stop-light, I quickly scribbled these words on the back of my hand. How apt they were in describing our lives at the moment.

If you want to get me ranting for a while, try saying something like "this is not a black and white issue, there is a gray area." I would rebel against the rigidity of these options and talk your ears off about how God did not create the world in black and white or shades of gray. He splashed onto the mountains and threw into the oceans a spectrum of colors, billions of shades, patterns, textures, nuances, and contrasts. Not merely black and white or gray. Just because we can't see them or understand them does not make them "gray area."

Yes, indeed. That would get me ranting for a while.



Khesed now lays asleep across my lap. His slightly parted lips, each strand of his eyelashes, and his warm, soft breaths fill me with wonder. The house is quiet while they are asleep, and I can blessedly hear my own thoughts. These moments melt away like chocolate ice cream, dark and bitter. I savor each spoonful knowing the hustle and bustle of dinner time will soon descend upon us like tart lemon sherbet. And when I am rocking a crying baby in the twilight, I know that the sun will come, and there shall be coffee. My days are like a high towers of ice cream. I prefer some layers more that others.


Emeth's fish died. It is hard to believe Emeth named him Jolay Dalay two years ago. Early last week, he hid under a rock and went to sleep forever. The day he died, Emeth refused to run. Instead, he sat under the trees and thought about his fish. He drew a portrait to say goodbye and went to bed that night with a lump in his throat.

We had a funeral the next day. We placed Jolay Dalay in a tiny red coffin. Before we covered him with dirt, Emeth read the story of creation and we gave thanks for the gift of life. The stuff animals gave their condolences, along with a smiley baby. It was a glorious service, blessedly short because of the cold, and everyone cheered up and cuddled afterwards.


Life has been quite intense. It is never just one thing or one person at a time, but it is everything and everybody all at once. Nevermore alone, nevermore apart. Here, in the quiet stillness, I want to record a snapshot of this craziness, these layers of swirling colors, these autumn days, tart and bitter and sweet.

5 comments:

Serenely said...

Rainbows make the best analogies. I tell myself during those tough moments that every rainbow needs a little rain.

Your boys are so beautiful. I so wish Nathan could join in the play. And I am so sad to hear about Emeth's loss. Nathan would definitely bring his Quack-Quack to offer their condolences together.

By the way, I'm not sure if you noticed that Emeth's jeans need some patching ;) or are you trying out a grunge look on him? If I was there I would help patch them for you as I have patched Nathan's jeans numerous times. I cannot for the life of me understand why another new tear keeps surfacing every so often.

Natalie said...

You speak my very heart and experiences right now, especially the part where it is not one person, but everyone and everything all at once. Life is crazy, sometimes quite difficult, but glorious....and I can hardly catch my breath in between it all! Thank you for continuing to post in the midst of such Christ-glorifying and fulfilling business! :)

E! said...

Splendid.

estherliu said...

By the way, I think of you whenever I have Stonyfield Farm's "After Dark Chocolate" flavored ice cream (red lid, not frozen yogurt, with blue lid).

This is exactly the meltaway you describe. It is creamy enough, unlike most chocolate ice creams which, if they are chocolatey enough, are too icey.

E! said...

stopping by, because i miss you.