Last week as I worked at my desk, suddenly the room grew dark. Reaching to turn on the lamp, a quick glance out our front window explained my dim situation.
A storm approached. The sky, blue just minutes before, suddenly grew slate gray. And then came the rain.
My poor pansies -- planted when the temperature was 65, surviving now weeks of freezing nights -- were storm-tossed!
It's a good thing they like water. And storms. And neglect.
(What, you know people like that? No, me neither. Now try to pay attention.)
Like most thunderstorms, this one lasted only a few minutes. Thunderstorm strategy: Rush into town, shut off the lights, drop buckets of cold rain, and then . . .
Paint the rainbow.
That was my original thought for tonight -- to encourage each of us that storms don't last forever. Even the fiercest ones don't have staying power.
But then as I was editing pictures for this post tonight, I noticed something. This is the first picture, enhanced:
Did you see that rainbow? Friends, it was there all along, hidden in smooth slate sky. Even when I couldn't see it -- the light was there.
Makes me wonder: How closely are we really looking?
Close enough to see the Light in our darkness?
He's there for the finding, and worth the search.
Squinting hard at rainbows,