Rainbow

It takes both rain and sunshine to make a rainbow

Life is the most beautiful after the storm. Grace, wisdom, perseverance, character, and patience are all some of the qualities that make a woman beautiful. These qualities are strengthened and sharpened by the rain of life. The tough times make us beautiful and bring out all of the brilliant colors that are a part of who we are.

Each and every one of us is unique and beautiful in our own way. I have had a very painful year and have learned that the sunshine I experienced in life gave me a good basis for knowing how to persevere and handle the rain. The combination of the two on the latter end of a horribly painful year has made me appreciate the rainbow I have been left with. It is a symbol of hope and of a bright, vibrantly colored future ahead. We may not always know why the rain comes, or why some days it may be in the form of a gentle afternoon shower and at other times it hits us with the full force of a hurricane.

Let me tell you about the hurricane that lasted for a year and a half, and then I will tell you about the warm sunshine that was sprinkled throughout. The two made a beautiful rainbow that I can now smile at. It began with my husband of eight and a half years moving to Florida. He no longer wanted to be a husband, or father to our three beautiful little girls. I told my Dad that I didn’t know if I could handle it.

“What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”, my Dad said.

“If that’s the case then I think that I am almost dead”, was my reply.

He went on to say, “Mitch, you will come out of this a stronger and better person for having gone through this.”

We had no idea what was still to come. I was terrified at the prospect of being a single mother. Did I really have what it takes to be the provider and nurturer to these three uniquely wonderful children? That was the first part of the hurricane. The wind blew so hard that I could hear the walls of my world begin to creak and start to rattle.

The next blow hit me with the full force of the hurricane. It was three weeks after my husband had left and I was tired from a long day at work. Two of the girls were tucked soundly in their beds and little Katie who was two at the time was sitting beside me in my room. As I sat down at the computer and lit a candle, I heard the dryer buzz in the other room, so I scooped Katie up into my arms and carried her into the kitchen where I began to fold laundry.

Just then I smelled something and ran into my bedroom. Sitting on the end of my bed was four year old Michaela, wide eyed with her arms and mouth open, completely unable to move. The center of the bed was on fire. It had burned to where I could see the box springs through the top of the mattress. I grabbed a blanket and threw it on the fire. The blanket was gone in a matter of seconds. I swooped Michaela up with such a force that she gasped for breath. I ran into the hallway where Katie was heading toward me. I took her under my other arm and somehow; unlocked the door and plopped the girls into the yard.

With two of my three girls bewildered and scared but safe in the front yard I ran back in the house. I grabbed the phone and franticly dialed 911 as I ran past my bedroom, which was by this time, completely engulfed in flames. As I ran into my oldest daughter’s room I yelled at the woman on the phone who was telling me as calmly as possible to get out of the house. I tried to wake Victoria up. For some reason, maybe to try and escape the thickening smoke, I jumped on her bed. When she would not wake up I reached down, picked up my seven year-old and jumped off of the bed. As I ran with her in my arms past my bedroom, I could feel the flames creeping into the hallway, reaching toward me. She woke up as I reached the front door. She looked at me completely confused. “Mommy what are you doing?” she asked; I replied with a frantic “stand up, stand up, stand up.”

I took all three girls in their pajamas across the street to my aunt’s house. Then for some reason I realized that my van was in the drive way and thought “Oh no, with my van in the drive way they won’t be able to get to the house.” So once again I ran into the house to retrieve my car keys. By this time the smoke was so thick in the front of the house that I could barely see.

As I stood across the street watching everything that I owned burn I tried to convince myself that it wasn’t that bad. Just then, much to my surprise, a fireman popped out of my roof, it was that bad. I called my soon to be ex-husband and his only response was, “It isn’t my house.” When the fire was finally out, the fireman walked me through the house. I had lost everything.

The sun did shine in the midst of this horrible storm. People have enormous hearts and stepped in with clothing for the girls. A friend let us stay with her for a little while. Then the girls and I started a nine month journey bouncing from place to place

Three weeks later another wave hit. The divorce was final, I was a single Mom and he didn’t even want visitation. Since he only worked a part-time job I was truly on my own with my girls. Then another wave hit and I had to move out of my friend’s house into a hotel room. The girls were quite shaken and none of us got much sleep. Then yet another wave and I lost my job due to the time off for the fire and missing a day because of the divorce hearing. The rain: in a month I had lost everything; my home, all of my possessions, my husband, and my job. The sun: I still had my three wonderful daughters and my health.

The girls and I were able to move into a cute two bedroom apartment for a couple of months and we had a very nice Christmas. The firemen had pulled together and supplied us with a Christmas tree and gifts for the girls, including bicycles for all three. Christmas time was definitely a sunny spot. But I had not yet reached the eye of the storm. It seemed that when I finally felt safe and thought that I had been through the worst, I would get hit again.

Barely having made it through Christmas I felt the center band of the storm; the worst part right before the calmness of the eye of the hurricane. It was a dark, blustery night, in early January. I, along with my children, were on our way home from my sister’s house, tired, and anxious to relax after an exhausting day. Traveling sixty-five miles per hour on Route 270, I hit a patch of ice and lost control of my car. In a dizzying whirl as the car spun uncontrollably, children screamed, objects flew, and the metal screeched as we bounced off of the cement wall. I finally gained control only to realize that I was headed directly into it.

The air bag hit me with such force that I thought I had personally hit the wall with my chest. I was choking and could not breathe. I was disoriented, numb and in extreme pain all at the same time. I kicked my door open, fell out of the car and crawled to the back door. Katie was in shock, Michaela had a strange grin on her face and had blood pouring out of her mouth, while Victoria was sobbing uncontrollably.

My cell phone had flown into the back seat and hit Michaela. Her injury was not as bad as it had originally appeared, for which I was thankful. The other two had minor bruising from the car seat and seatbelts. Michaela and Victoria had matching bumps on their heads from having knocked each other while we were spinning.

Once I saw the girls were alright I collapsed across them, half way in the car and half way out. My injuries were more extensive. I had torn the ligaments over my sternum and had torn part of my esophagus. The joints where the ribs meet the breast bone were all jammed. It was excruciatingly painful to breathe. The most difficult part of that night was seeing the fear in Victoria’s eyes as the paramedics strapped me down to a board and took me away. I couldn’t reach out to her and comfort her.

The recovery was about a six week process before I could even lift my girls or carry anything. It was difficult. Even hugs hurt. How do you tell three frightened, traumatized, sad children that you can’t hug them because it hurts too badly? I gave hugs anyway.

The eye of the storm came next. What I had hoped would be the end of a horrific year turned out to be the calm in which the sun was allowed in but for a moment. The sunshine in this storm was warm and comforting. My house was put back together better than it ever had been before. The girls were happy to move back home.

In January my Dad received a call from a man that I had dated ten years before. My Dad, trying to be protective, told Benjamin that I was still married; I was not. This began a very long search to find him. Between moving back into my home, trying to find Benjamin, getting certified to do childcare and dealing with an on again/off again relationship with a boyfriend, I stayed busy. I broke up with my superficial boyfriend permanently. The summer went by relatively smoothly.



Then second half of the hurricane hit me with the full force of all of the waves of the first half put together. After having patched the cracks in my emotional house from the first half, there was not enough strength or resources left in me to handle the full brutal nature of this storm.

My ex-boyfriend broke into my home at two o’clock in the morning in late August. I will save you the details of the rape but it ripped through my soul like nothing, not even all of the earlier events in my life, could have. I woke up in the dark, not knowing what was happening or who was doing this to me. Every horror movie and terrible news story I had ever seen came rushing back to me at that moment. Were my girls alright? Were they alive or dead? If they were alright was I going to be ok? If not, what would happen to the girls if they found me the next morning dead or severely beaten and naked? Do I scream? If I scream the girls will come running. I can’t scream; they can’t see this. If they come in they could be hurt or worse. Do I kick, hit or bite? If I do will he kill me? What do I say? “Please stop, you can’t do this, who are you? Stop, please. Why are you doing this to me?” I must have said those words a thousand times. I finally realized who it was and then some of the terror subsided. I knew at the very least, if I survived I wouldn’t contract HIV or some other disease. He left. I collapsed against the door struggling to lock it in an attempt to keep the gale force wind from returning. I couldn’t stop shaking. I called the police.

When the police arrived I was so relieved to see them. I almost hugged one but then caught myself. I couldn’t stop crying. I didn’t know what to do or how to react. I was in my nightshirt and very self conscious. In my awkwardness I offered them cookies I had just baked the night before. My oldest daughter heard what the police had to say. The fallout from that lasted for a couple of weeks.

I felt like I might be able to pick myself up like had done with all of the other tragedies in my life, but as I looked around at the aftermath of this horrible storm all that was left of my house was a foundation. Rubble was everywhere. I vacillated between disbelief, being angry, fearful, bitter, shocked, and guilty. I could not even function. Then another blow hit me. I had just found Benjamin again. Would I lose him too? How would he handle this? This was too much to bear.

Benjamin called the next morning, I couldn’t even speak. My friend took the phone from me and gave him a detailed account of what had happened and then she handed me the phone. This is what I heard, “Michelle, there are two things that you need to know, I love you and I want you to be my wife.” I began to cry. Here was Benjamin standing in the midst of the rubble with me, lifting me up and ready to help me rebuild. The sun had begun to shine again. He took emergency leave and flew in from Japan for ten days to take care of the girls and to protect me. The healing process has been painful but rewarding at the same time. Benjamin had seen me at the absolute worst I had ever been and was standing there with arms wide open to the girls and me.

The future that is ahead of me is my rainbow. It shines so bright that it is almost blinding. The pain and struggles of this past year have prepared me to be a Navy wife and a strong loving mother to the three precious gifts that God has granted me. To me, the colors of the rainbow represent the diversity of characteristics that both the sunshine and the rain have created and nurtured in me. Remember, without the rain you would miss all of the beauty of the rainbow.


NOTE

This was written three years ago. Having grown up in Florida I have been through a couple of hurricanes. Because of that it seemed like the best analogy for me to use to describe the indescribable.