Fireworks

I love fireworks. They’re a whimsical burst of lightning confetti, colour, beauty, celebration, and joy. Wonder always fills me up as my face leans skyward and I take in the display. As a child I would wait expectantly for the special days in the year when fireworks would explode in the sky. New Years, Peach Fest (yes my hometown celebrates peach season), Canada Day, or when someone felt like getting celebratory out in their pasture. Fireworks have always made celebrations stand out on my life’s timeline. Year 2000, staying up to see if the earth would melt down at midnight. I didn’t care so much about Y2K, just my glass bottle of Coca Cola and standing on the hillside with my family watching the town’s firework display. Or New Years, in my cousin’s pasture watching the snow reflect the colourful glow, looking at each member of my family experiencing laughter and joy. Of all the displays, my favourite was our wedding day. We didn’t plan or pay for fireworks but out of nowhere, in the middle of our reception, fireworks started to light up the sky. We wrapped our arms around each other and took in the truly unexpected moment of delight. In my heart, the unplanned, perfect timing felt like God’s wedding gift to us, a wink from Heaven to mark our special day. 

One of the best parts of watching fireworks is looking at the people around you. Usually not too much is said, mostly 'oohs', 'ahhh', ‘wow’, or ‘look at that one!’. You’ll often see people standing with their arms around each other, quietly taking in the moment with a soft embrace. Other times you’ll see little children jumping up and down, so excited at what they’re experiencing they can’t contain their joy. People sit on the grass, lawn chairs, stand in streets, or cuddle up on a tailgate, everybody can have the best seat in the house. Fireworks are for everyone, I think that’s one of the things I love about them the most. It doesn’t matter where you come from, how much money you have, or how old you are. Fireworks bring out a part of us which often lies dormant, sometimes hidden in adulthood, a special place called wonder. Looking upward to Heaven always requires a certain degree of wonder and I find the more you engage with wonder, the more you see Heaven here on earth. 

Did you know there are firework displays around you daily? They come from Heaven and they reveal the love and character of The One who made this earth. They are a special treasure revealing the heart of the Creator. 

I have always done my best to take note of the beauty around me, but it increased exponentially when I became a mother. My son Raffa showed me how beautiful life is in a way I never truly understood before. Throughout the nine months he was with us I began to notice fireworks from Heaven in a new way. They began with the first time I felt him kick, then as he moved within me over the course of my pregnancy, I experienced wonder I had never felt before. The day we first held Raffael was also the day we said goodbye to him. Yet, in the most excruciating pain I will ever know, I felt an overwhelming wonder that he is our son, that we were given him as a gift. In the months that have followed, being Raffa’s mom has taught me to look for Heaven here on earth. So many things that previously mattered didn’t anymore, and suddenly I was a child again, seeing the world for the first time, through the eyes of my son. I noticed Heaven’s fireworks all around me. They were in wildflowers swaying on the hillside, bald eagles soaring in the sky, sherbet sunsets decorating the horizon, the breeze dancing through wind chimes, watercolour paints floating across the page, breath hitting a dandelion, sending little umbrellas into the currents of the wind, and fireflies lighting our way home at night.

These were the moments that held us, small bursts of relief from the pain. Diligently we waited for these moments of wonder, but the truth is, unlike childhood, we watched each display with a broken heart. But God had a plan… 

On June 10th, those same two hearts held a piece of heaven once again, our daughter, Raffa’s sister, Amariyah Joy. The night she was born, the wonder of Joy exploded in the room. This time our faces looked skyward with praise to God for our daughter, the closeness of her brother, a moment where heavenly lights were on full display. Everyone in the room was crying as she was held up for the first time. They all felt our broken hearts for our son Raffa, and how long and dark the road was that led us to that moment in the delivery room. It all began with Raffa. Earlier that night when we arrived, I shared with the team how difficult it was for me to be in a hospital setting once again giving birth. One nurse looked into our eyes and said ‘Tonight we’re having a birthday party’. I firmly held onto that sentence until I held Amari in my arms. To everyone’s amazement, Amariyah immediately smiled moments after she was born, fulfilling the promise of living out her middle name, Joy. Even though it was such a special surprise, it was a moment I somehow anticipated. I felt her joy for my entire pregnancy. Even when I struggled to balance grief and ushering in new life, her joy sustained me. The day I went into labour, Michael and I decided to take a walk at our favourite local park. Before we got far, we were overtaken by a big storm. Thunder and lightening suddenly clashed above us as dark ominous clouds were ushered in. As rain began pouring down, we opened up our brand new umbrella, only to see it invert and collapse in comical fashion, rendering it completely useless. Despite all the drama we found ourselves laughing all the way back to the car. The arrival of Raffa’s sister, Amariyah was certainly upon us, and with the promise of joy, even through the storm.

Shortly after she was born, we celebrated the fourth of July. We watched fireworks explode in the sky. We stood on the sidewalk, our arms wrapped around each other, just like they were on our wedding day, but this time it was even better because Raffa, Amari, and Sunny were with us. Our faces looked up skyward, thinking of our son, with our feet standing on the earth where our little girl will run. 

We welcome Raffa’s sister Amari.