Rainbows . . . seriously?

Rainbows get a bad rap. People associate them with hearts and flowers and unicorns and everything pink.

Judy Garland immortalized them in the “Wizard of Oz.” Kermit the Frog sang about the “Rainbow Connection” on Sesame Street.

But rainbows are more than dream-like illusions in the sky.

In reality  (if one dares take notice) they are the serious stuff of life.

The Bible begins—and ends—with a rainbow. They are a sign: that one will survive and that things will get better.

I know many of you will exit this post now. The rainbow cynics and pundits.

I understand. But perhaps it’s you, most of all, who need to read on.

This weekend I have had several serious rainbow moments.

The first took place Friday. I was on the way back from a quick trip to the mountains and came upon one of the worst thunderstorms I’d ever encountered. Exhausted and wanting to get home as quickly as possible, I pressed on, all the while questioning my sanity at refusing to pull over until the storm passed. Pushing ahead, I rounded a bend, and there, sweeping across the interstate, was a huge, in-your-face rainbow.

The sky was black and angry. And there it was, this brushstroke of profundity. I knew it was a sign, a reminder from God that He is faithful in the midst of our storms. He has brought so much beauty into my life this year—and it has been a very difficult year—and I have learned much about pressing on and holding onto hope. So I drove right into that torrential downpour with complete assurance that I would be safe.

The second moment happened when a friend shared in a Facebook post that he had lost a child. This time I sat at my computer and wept. I had caught only glimmers of this from reading older posts. But when I saw it spelled out in black & white, it became real. I deliberately entered as fully as I could into my friend’s grief and loss and just lingered there.

I thought about my three girls and what it might be like if one of them were suddenly torn from my life. I thought of another friend whose son took his own life last year and for whom going on day after day has become an unbearable burden. Lastly, I thought about a fallen Marine whose wife and young children are now left without the man they love.

The pain of empathy weighed me down. I quickly messaged a friend . . . “I’m feeling so sad today.”

She told me she was sad, too. The fallen Marine was the brother of a close friend of hers. So we chatted for several hours by email. We shared our hearts. Talked about loss. Grief. And rainbows. It turns out she has had some significant rainbow moments, too.

By the end of our visit, my heart was lighter. I was encouraged. More hopeful.

I daresay each of you has a rainbow story which, maybe, like my friend, you’ll be brave enough to share.

We had another drenching thunderstorm last night. This morning the sun mustered an unusual brilliance.

No, I didn’t see a rainbow. But I do believe there was one hidden somewhere underneath.