One thing I have always enjoyed is the beauty of the rainbow. The bright colors that arch across the sky, lighting it up with the lovely hue of greens, yellows, oranges, reds, violets and blues... It can be breathtaking, especially after an intense storm. Those days when the rain has fallen so hard, the lightening flashing and thunder roaring, only to come to an end with the peaceful presence of the rainbow. It is a sign of hope; a sign that, even though the winds rage, it can and will be okay. It is calming; a sign that we can breathe the proverbial sigh of relief. It is a promise of life; that despite any destruction, the world need not be viewed through dark storm clouds, but with the diverse colors that light up our eyes.
Just like the rains that occasionally inconvenience you, life has it's own storms. They come unexpectedly, like a nightmare that grips you and won't let go. It sinks it's claws in, it roars it's thunderous words, it flashes it's frightening images... scarring us. I had my own nightmare storm 6 years ago. Expecting my third child, only to have dreams washed away by the hardened rain. I was almost 2 years without shelter; I refused it. I was so hurt that I would rather let the pain soak me to the bone than come in from the rain. But then, it happened. I saw my rainbow.
My rainbow appeared in the form of another baby. I found myself clinging to the hope that it was finally over, that the blue skies had appeared and would soon be overhead. It was a time to rejoice, and look forward to waking up from the night terror. As I began to make plans, to open up and tell people about the new arrival, it happened again. Out of nowhere. One moment rainbow, the next minute replaced by dark clouds. I had lost another child. My rainbow had been shattered.
It was then that I came face to face with an important realization: I could either be destroyed by the storm, or I could overcome the storm. The choice was mine. I could scream at the clouds again, allowing the torrent to rip me apart. Or I could stand up, embrace the rain, let go the pain, and cling to my rainbow. It was, after all, my gift of hope from God. I decided I could not, I would not let it tear me down again. I stood, and I let it go.
I learned that day the importance of understanding that, while I may not understand the why's, I don't have to accept the blame. I learned that though it hurt, I didn't have to reject healing. I learned that even though it left scars, scars can be beautiful. I learned that sometimes it is not owning the rainbow that brings us hope- but rather, the lessons and the beauty we can take from it.
I lost my rainbow baby. But in the brief moment he appeared in my sky, I found my strength. I found my courage. I found my voice. I found my healing. And though I do not carry my rainbow in my arms, he has lit up my heart in a way that has forever changed me. At the end of my storms, I have a hope and a peace that will never wash away.
