My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!

The child is father of the man;

And I could wish my days to be

Bound each to each by natural piety.

 

William Wordsworth

 

Hurricane Matthew—a storm the size of Arizona, one newscaster called it—recently caused our normal routines to be drastically altered for almost a week. We did not evacuate so, for us, there was no displacement nor strange surroundings that always follow temporary uprootings. And gratefully, the storm was almost a non-event by the time it reached our area: the worst of it was winds gusting to 75 mph, causing some branches to litter the yard. Even the rainfall was a drop in the bucket compared to last October’s 1,000-year flood. We lost power for a few hours—a mere inconvenience in an otherwise blessedly dull denouement.

Wordworth’s poem keeps running through my head, not because there was a rainbow after Matthew lumbered beyond our coast line—there wasn’t one. Nor does the poem haunt me because I am headed into my “twilight” years and am hoping, much like Wordsworth, to be an aging person who would rather die than lose the capacity to have my breath taken away by God’s handiwork. It isn’t because of those last two lines, which seem to imply a desire for living fully in awe, appreciative for all the blessings of this physical sphere and for the elemental awareness in our DNA which points to the Father of the man, arriving as the most unlikely miracle of all: a helpless baby.

Nope. My Heart Leaps Up for none of those reasons. My Heart Leaps up for the only line I remember from college:  “The child is father of the man.”

 My father has been very sick. Over the last few months he has been in the hospital or in a rehab facility. He went in a grumpy old man. He came out someone I hardly even recognized.

 My dad. The optimist.

I don’t know how or why it happened, but somehow in the midst of his storm, he managed to find the bright side of life. In the midst of his storm—a Cat 4 that could have killed him—he found a rainbow.

And he’s not letting go of it. He is making adjustments in his lifestyle, and he is embracing those adjustments. He is cheerful. He gladly contributes to conversations. He laughs and jokes. He is appreciative. He is happily fighting his way back to health.

 As time goes by, he may slip back into the curmudgeon I know and love. But for now, my father’s heart leaps up, for the little things that bring him joy. A warm blanket. Lunch. A visit from someone. Another day of life. A trip to Disney World, for crying out loud.

 If that’s not God, I really have to wonder what is. And my heart leaps up for that.