Today we bring you a story that warmed our heart, we hope that it warms yours too
Shawnelle Eliasen and her husband Lonny raise their brood of five boys in an old Victorian near the Illinois banks of the Mississippi River. She home teaches her youngest three sons. Shawnelle contributes regularly to Guideposts Magazine and Chicken Soup for the Soul. Her stories and articles have also been published by Marriage Partnership, MomSense Magazine, Thriving Family Magazine, Woman’s World, Angels on Earth, PLUS Magazine, Cup of Comfort books and other anthologies.
Rain Rescue – The Power of a Loving Thing
The boys and I are driving home after an afternoon of errands. As we cross the bridge that spans the Mississippi, I notice the clouds. They’re broody and dark and the sky that’s visible in between is a deep blue gash.
By the time we’re home, they’ve knit together to a ominous mass and then there is a wild torrent of rain.
We pull in the drive and sit. The back door is down the steps and across the patio.
“I’m going to run in,” Gabe says. I turn around and see he’s watching the digital clock. It’s three. Time for the boys’ half-hour of coveted PBS. It’s a powerful thing.
“Just wait,” I say. “It will slow. If you make a run for it, you’ll still be soaked.”
“Please,” he asks.
I pop the locks and he’s out the door. Down the steps. Then he’s fumbling at the door to find the right key.
And he’s in.
And the rain hits the windshield in hard, angry pelts.
A bit like my mood these days, I recognize. Things with our struggling son have left me a little stripped. The raw, inside me can be as dark as the day.
I sit for a moment and listen to the chatter from the back seat. I watch the rain flow like a river down the side of the drive.
And then I see the umbrella.
It’s a Fighting Illini umbrella. And it’s huge. Wide slices of blue and orange are moving across the patio. I see small legs and feet underneath.
The umbrella bobs up the stairs, it stops for a moment as the gate, and then it pauses outside my van door.
It tips and there is Gabe’s smile.
I throw the door open.
“I came to rescue you, Mom,” he says.
There he is, this small sprig of a boy, holding this canopy of nylon. He’s holding it out to me, wanting to walk me in.
I’ve been rescued from the rain.
I hold the umbrella and it covers us both. We move fast and Gabe delivers me to the porch. I step inside and I watch him run back to the van for his brothers.
The struggle, the sadness, hasn’t gone away. But the edges have been soothed with a sweet salve. The sweet salve of a loving thing.
Before long the boys are all in and the house is full. There’s a thunder of boyness moving toward the family room upstairs. But as Gabe rushes past I reach out and snag him. I pull him close. I whisper in his small, warm ear.
“Thanks,” I say. “For rescuing me.”
“You’re welcome,” he says. And he smiles.
But he really has no idea at all.
Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful. And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds… Hebrews 10:23-24
More articles by Shawnelle can be found on her blog at: http://shawnellewrites.blogspot.com