It’s a promise of hope. Yeah, okay, it’s water vapor and light at the right angles just appearing to look like that and we call it a rainbow. Um, duh, but also... it’s a promise of hope.
Rainbows mean a whole huge lot of things to a lot of people, but never, ever have I seen or heard of a time they didn’t mean hope. Or represent something where people are working toward a goal together for a reason bigger than just themselves. Most well known in my growing up years as well as now, equal rights for LGBTQ+ individuals.
Guess what... we need to treat one another as the precious treasures we each are. That’s not the main focus of my blog post here, but I cannot mention hope without saying again that every person is a gift to be treasured. And that we need to treat each other accordingly. Especially when we have trouble understanding where someone is coming from. Let’s not trample each other, but like, uh, love each other and be respectful and stuff.
I feel a tug leading me away from what I set out to write about. I meant to explain the picture and why it is such a huge symbol of hope for a very big, personal reason.... but... I’ve also learned to follow these “nudges.”
So... here’s the nudge:
I‘m a (pasty) white person. Seriously, crushed saltines are less pale guys. I cannot begin to understand the life of a person of color or all that an individual goes through because of skin color. I can do what I just said we should be doing: treasure a person. Treasure their words. Listen and be respectful. Listen and try to learn how we can all do this life thing better together. By giving dignity and respect to everyone. Because we are each a treasure.
*gulp*
*deep breath*
Okay, what I set out to say is I took this picture of water and light lining up to make this amazingly bright and beautiful rainbow because it was a specific promise of hope. This past week, one of my dearest friends finally got some test results back for her cancer. They were scary grim guys. Not two seconds after she told me, I told her she wasn’t dying from this. It wasn’t me blowing smoke up her rear end eight. It was me feeling stronger than that nudge that what I said was the truth.
I prayed about that moment all night. All night.... in the morning, I felt the same quietness about this cancer. She’s not gonna die from this. When I walked out of my house.... you see the picture. That’s a promise of hope.
I tell you the truth: twenty-four hours after hearing from my dear friend that she was told maybe she had six months to live, she told me they called back. The tests were read wrong and she definitely has a fight ahead, but that 6 month thing, yeah, that’s off the table.
Hope and a promise followed through in under a day. It’s not always like that, but sometimes it is guys.
If you think hope is a crock, did you buy a lotto ticket? You know you’ve got a better chance of being injured by a toilet than you do of winning, but ya still bought that ticket because someone has to win. That’s hope right there. A very different kind, but still hope.
I don’t know about anyone else, each of you other treasures who happen to read this, but I’m putting my hope in the One who bend light through water vapor to create a rainbow.
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