Unbroken Rainbow

It was early spring of 1976, the year after my first husband and I married, that we moved to Cozad, Nebraska  – a farming community bordering  I-80.  We made the move based on job opportunities and knew no one in this small town or even nearby. The director of nursing that hired me at the twenty bed hospital also had a small home to rent on the northern most street in town. We took it.

This white home with red trim that became ours for a time sat on a long street of mostly moderate, ranch style homes. Our landlady informed us that her/our house was sandwiched between a teacher’s  home – the blue one on the left and a banker’s home – the tan one to the right. I looked up and down the street the day she showed us the house and thought – this is a real neighborhood with backyards, garden spots, patios, and children – unlike the apartment complex in the college town that we had just left. I looked forward to settling in and becoming a spoke of the neighborhood wheel.

Over the next couple of months, we met many of the neighbors. The folks in the blue house invited us over for coffee and rolls the Saturday after we moved in. The large family across the street, in the only two story house on the block, invited us to come to church with them.  A coworker that I had met at work lived just a half block down on the other side of the street. The tan house next to us, however, seemed exceptionally quiet. We had caught a glimpse of a suited man leaving for work in the mornings and a young boy heading off to school. I wondered if this was a single dad raising his son or if it was a family that just preferred to stay to themselves.

It was now May and I was spending more time outdoors. One warm and sunny evening as I unpinned the sheets from the clothesline,  I glanced over the fence to the tan house. It struck me as absurd that our houses were but a few yards apart and I still had not met Mrs. Tan. Granted – we did not know everyone in our apartment building either, but this was small town America! My husband by this time had met Mr. Tan over the backyard fence and we now knew a wife did exist.

Mid morning, the following day,  I arranged an enticing plate of warm, chocolate chip cookies and headed next door.  I rang the doorbell and waited…and waited. I was sure I had heard it chime, but just in case…I thought to knock loudly  before aborting the mission. I waited again, but soon decided it was time to go. Probably just as well, I thought, as my shy tendencies kicked in. She obviously did not want to be bothered. Just as I turned to descend the steps I heard the doorknob turn.

“May I help you?” A woman, I guessed to be in her early thirties with short reddish brown hair and a big smile, stood looking at me.

Any anxiety that had built up on the step, immediately dissipated. “I’m your new neighbor,” I said nodding towards our house next door. “My name’s DeLila.  I brought over some cookies for you and your family,” I continued, holding out the plate.

Elaine introduced herself as she invited me  in. She seemed genuinely glad that I had come. She apologized for not having been over and she laughed at the irony of me bringing her cookies instead of vice versa. I was even more baffled why someone with such an outgoing personality wouldn’t have come by.  And then I “saw” the answer. Propped up with pillows on each side of her, the child still leaned heavily to one side in the chair.  Although a beautiful child; her coarse facial features, skeletal abnormalities, and general appearance made me aware that this was a special needs child in need of constant one on one care.

After this initial meeting, we were invited into their home often. In the summer it was a weekly event to pool our leftovers and meet on their patio for Saturday evening dinner.

Elaine became more than just a friend to me – she became a mentor. When I didn’t know what to do with the surplus of tomatoes we grew, she taught me to can in exchange for a few jars of tomatoes. When I didn’t have a clue how to keep the checkbook and overdrew our account, she invested hours to help me find the mistake. She then gave me step-by-step instructions how to do it properly. When our two boys came along, Mr. and Mrs. Tan became Auntie Elaine and Uncle Leland.

I knew I was going to miss Elaine when we moved to Wyoming.  She had taken me under her wing and grew me – always with compassion and a delightful disposition. We bravely said our goodbyes and promised to write often, call some ( long distance still cost money), and most importantly – vowed we wouldn’t let this be the last time we saw each other.

My…my….so many broken promises in this lifetime. We never intended it to be this way, but we moved, and then they moved. Our paths just never crossed again. Eventually, even the Christmas letters stopped as we became more disconnected and went on with our busy lives.

How fortunate we are that God’s promises (covenants) stand firm and true – never to be broken.  Remember the promise He made to Noah after the flood?  He promised to never again destroy the earth with a flood and then He set the rainbow in the clouds to be a sign of that covenant. (Genesis 9:11-13). When I see a rainbow it never fails to remind me of this promise. And isn’t it interesting? Astronauts seeing rainbows from space – assure us that they form a complete circle – unbroken and unending.

The broken promises that Elaine and I made to each other as we hugged goodbye was 35 years ago. As I was preparing this blog, I couldn’t help but check Facebook once again. This time I found her! The friend request has been sent and I’m waiting, hoping to mend that broken promise.

Until next month – keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

(If you enjoy this style of writing, visit my “Book Page” on this same site and see how to purchase one of my Christian Fiction books, Bound by Secrecy and the sequel Bound by Three Strands.)