This rainbow caught my eye tonight as I took my dog out on a walk. It was 7:00 PM and the sky was just barely spitting rain. Across the street from my house poured the sounds of summer—the crack of the bat and voices chattering in the field. Girls softball practice. Really little girls. I was surprised any of them could fit a softball in their hand at all.
Now stopping during a walk isn’t something I usually do. But tonight, something tugged at me and I felt compelled to pause and glance at this faint and rare sight in the sky. And I wasn’t the only one. As I stood gawking upward, I heard the frustrated coach yelling at the girls, “COME ON! WE’RE NOT HERE TO LOOK AT RAINBOWS!”
It wasn’t a spectacular rainbow. In fact, it was pretty hard to see. I think that is what made it so special, so attractive. You really had to look hard. You had to stop and be still to appreciate it.
It got me thinking about all the faint, but spectacular, “rainbows” I might be walking quickly by every day. I’m pretty sure when my kids were little I missed quite a few. It is hard to see the little faint rainbows of life when you need to fix breakfast, make lunches, get to work, run the Cub Scout meeting, make cupcakes for the school party, deal with a frustrated teacher, coach the team, help with homework, cook dinner, exercise, do your own homework, rinse, and repeat.
“COME ON! WE’RE NOT HERE TO LOOK AT RAINBOWS!”
Sorry, coach, I beg to differ. We are here to look at them. Seek them out. And stare long and hard. They disappear way too soon.