More random thoughts from my journey after the death of my wife, Renee.

I used to believe in magic – that amazing things happened in this world that defied explanation, and which just left you smiling and singing along with Louis Armstrong – “What a wonderful world!”.  Much like Sam Gamgee in his days before joining “The Fellowship of The Ring”, I believed I “had once seen an elf in the woods, and still hoped to see more one day.” 

The clearest evidence of this magical world was in my own home.  There, for many years, dirty clothes became clean and found their way back to their places in drawers and closets, household supplies re-appeared on what had been empty shelves, bills were paid, if I ever needed money all I had to do was put out my hand and cash would appear, and, most amazing of all, delicious food, cooked in many ways, appeared on plates multiple times a day!  How could anyone witnessing such things not believe in magic? 

Of course, I knew all along that she was the magic, or at least that she was making the magic happen.  Oh, I even helped, thinking I was doing a lot, thinking that we were equally sharing the load.  Part of the magic was how she just let me carry on with my little fantasy that I was actually doing my share when, in reality, I was probably hurting more than I was helping.  There is no telling how many shirts I folded that she had to re-fold correctly, or how many supplies I put on the wrong shelves that she had to move again.  Until the entire load fell to me, I never completely realized how much effort was required to perform all of that magic. 

But then the magic ended.  The spell was broken.  And suddenly I saw that, no matter how many magic words I said, those magical things that used to fill my home no longer happened.  I find myself living in what is to me a strange new world – one in which there is no magic, one in which magic has been replaced by work.  It’s a world in which dirty clothes no longer wash and dry and fold themselves; where empty shelves no longer re-stock themselves; where bills no longer pay themselves leaving left-over cash; and where food no longer cooks itself.  If anything is going to be done, it must be done by me.  It is a world in which the music no longer plays, and I no longer easily smile, and I no longer sing.  It’s a world in which I’m no longer sure that I ever really saw an elf in the woods, or that I will ever see more.  It’s a world that’s more than a little bit dark, and more than a little bit frightening.

I’m thankful I am not here in this strange new world alone.  I am grateful for the guides and helpers who have come alongside me, who have lifted my arms, who have shared my burdens, who have shown me the path and walked beside me on that path.  You mean more to me than I can say.  With your help, this world is becoming a little less dark, and a little less frightening.

Yet I have a question – How are we supposed to find joy in a world without magic?

 And, I had planned to end today’s article with that dark question.  But suddenly, through the “magic” of the Internet and cyberspace and Facebook, one of my friends shared this picture with me:

It’s a “fire rainbow”. 

Yeah, yeah, I get it.  The meteorological name for it is “cloud iridescence”, and it is formed when small water droplets scatter the sun’s light.

But it’s a “FIRE RAINBOW”!

Suddenly, I’m wondering if maybe there is still some magic in this strange new world after all, magic which makes it a wonderful and exciting place to live, magic which makes it a place where joy might still be found, magic which makes it a place where I might hear the music and sing and smile again. 

Suddenly, I‘m wondering if maybe someday I really will see an elf. 

Ambrose Ramsey | Pastor and Shepherd