A Diffuse Rainbow
Sometimes God’s signs take a while to discern. As I had come
to Manna House this morning I saw to the south a diffuse rainbow; the colors
smeared across the sky instead of with clearly defined lines.
One of
the early arriving guests waiting for me to open the gate said, “It isn’t much
of a rainbow, is it? But today isn’t much of a day.”
Another
was more hopeful, “This is the day the Lord has made” he said.
Could
both be true? No doubt, the rainbow was not as clear as the sign given to Noah.
There the rainbow clearly meant the flood was over, not just then but for all
time. “The waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh” (Genesis
9:15). Yet this morning there was a diffuse rainbow. And how could I forget
Louisiana, among other catastrophic floods? Not all flesh but pretty bad
nonetheless. Did this morning’s rainbow, though diffuse, have enough color and
clarity to remind me that God is hanging around?
Toward
the end of the morning a volunteer came to me, “A guest wants to see you. His
Momma died. He wants you to pray with him.”
I went to
the backyard. A man sat at one of the picnic tables. He head was down and his
shoulders heaved as he wept. I recognized him from Monday’s showers. He had on
the shoes we had given him. In the last year or so he has become a regular guest,
living on the streets. Another volunteer was already with him, hand on his
shoulder. Still another came and she put her hand on his other shoulder. I
approached him and did the same and we prayed.
“God in
grief you seem so absent. May our friend here feel your loving embrace. You are
our Mother, ever mindful of us, ever gentle, ever loving, come and give
comfort. Stand with him in his sorrow. Welcome his Momma into your presence.”
After a
while we talked. The funeral will be in St. Paul, Minnesota. He has no family
left now that his Momma is gone. He only has the isolation of the streets. He
has no money. If he could get to Minnesota he could stay with a friend of his
Momma’s; the one who called him and told him the news. Not being able to go to
the funeral only compounded his grief.
“Manna
House will get you there” I said, “We can get you a bus ticket.” Just that
morning a regular donor had come and had been even more generous than usual.
“Come
back Monday when you know the arrangements and we will work it out to get you a
bus ticket.”
Another
guest came over to offer condolences. He talked about losing his mother. More,
he offered this guest bent over in sorrow a place to stay until he would go to
the funeral. “Come with me. I got a place now and you can live there for a
while. I don’t want you to be alone with this.” They left together. It was time
for Manna House to close. The skies had grown dark again and a light rain began
to fall.
Grief
in losing one’s Momma and being poor and homeless and thousands of miles away
from her in her illness and now her death, and the graciousness of prayer, of another
guest’s offer for a place to stay, a diffuse rainbow.
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