A Rainbow Kind of Mood

Photo by Jorge Fernández Salas on Unsplash

Last June, I was absentmindedly gazing out my kitchen window when I spied a beautiful rainbow in the eastern sky. I love rainbows, a reminder of God’s promise, so I headed outside for a better view, watching as the rainbow became brighter, until finally the full arch of the double rainbow was visible.

I have often seen rainbows there on a stormy day, when the setting sun breaks through the clouds just right. It reminded me of another day years earlier, in 2005, when my husband’s cousin Chip called from his father’s house nearby, telling me to look out to see the rainbow he’d spotted.

It had been a difficult year for Chip and his family. In February 2004, Chip had been diagnosed with melanoma and given only four months to live. Chip had already outlived the predicted four months when his father died suddenly in January 2005. A month later, his brother was diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer and told he had just two months to live.

Chip often visited us when he traveled to Richland to work on his father’s estate, giving us a chance to enjoy his company and have some long conversations. That March, the Terri Schiavo case was in the news. Terri, a young woman who suffered brain damage after a cardiac arrest in 1990, was in nursing care. Her husband had just won his lawsuit to remove her feeding tube and hydration, prevailing over her family who had fought to continue her care. Deprived of food and water, it would take an agonizing two weeks for her to die. As we watched this story unfold, Chip and I debated Terri’s case. I argued that her family should be allowed to care for her, while Chip believed it was right to “pull the plug,” removing all life support.

Knowing his feelings, I worried that Chip might eventually refuse care for himself. I was telling my dear friend Victoria my concerns when Chip called about the rainbow. She held on the other line. When I told her why he had called, she suggested it was a perfect time to talk with him, since he was in “a rainbow kind of mood.” I headed over, bringing a booklet of Catholic teachings on care of the sick. The Church teaches that all ordinary means of care and comfort be given, although extraordinary means that may cause more harm than good may be rejected. I told him that I believed we should willingly accept same kind of loving care a father would give to a beloved sick child.

Not long after that, Chip showed up toting an oxygen tank. He smiled and said, “I guess this is a kind of life support…”

As the cancer progressed and Chip became sicker and weaker, he treasured every moment with his wife, children, and LDS church community gathered around him. His youngest son made it home from a two-year church mission and helped care for him. This son later became a doctor.

Father’s Day that year fell on Chip’s birthday, June 19th, and his whole family came together to celebrate. His brother made the journey to see him, despite his own cancer. His elderly mother was there, along with his other brother and sister and us, his cousins. Chip inspired us all, living out every last moment that God gave him, with the joy and hope that come from faith and love. On August 16th, he breathed his last.

Thinking of Chip as the rainbow faded, I suddenly realized it was his birthday, June 19th. The rainbow, that beautiful sign of God’s promise, brought a message from heaven. Chip, having suffered and died here on earth, was now living eternally in the glorious presence of God. A reminder and blessed reassurance, that although in this life we may suffer, we are not made for this life alone. We are made for heaven.