I remember as a child singing about April showers bringing May flowers, but this year it seems those April showers turned into serious storms that have lasted through May. Frequent threats of hail the size of golf balls have motivated us to pull the potted Meyer lemon underneath the porch until maybe September.
It is highly unusual to reach June 2 and our air conditioner has only been for a few hours. We’re still sleeping with the screen doors open, enjoying the cool evenings and even the hoarse croaking of a bullfrog that has taken up residence in one of the ponds out back. The hills are lush green, the ponds are full, the springs are bubbling, and the streams are flowing. That’s all good news, but the bad news is that floodwaters have destroyed lives and homes in a path across South Texas.
This afternoon, we had another one of those bullfrog-choking, window-rattling thunderstorms and a half inch of rain in just a few minutes with more expected overnight. But after a half-hour downpour, the winds became breezes, the rain turned to mist, and a rainbow appeared in my window. What is it about a rainbow that makes my heart smile? Perhaps it’s remembering the first time I learned of Noah and the flood and about God’s promise. Or maybe it’s a lifetime of experiencing the metaphorical rhythm of life’s storms and sunny days and remembering the promise of God’s presence through it all.
Sunlight and water are requirements for the appearance of that colorful spectrum of color we call a rainbow. Light and water. Interesting that Jesus said, “I am the Light of the world,” (John 8:12), and He offered a Samaritan woman the gift of living water (John 4:10-15).
When the rainbow appeared after the storm subsided today, I stepped to our window on our world to take a picture. It was a couple of hours later when I looked at the photo. There in the foreground was a cross formed by the window framing, and in the distance was the rainbow. Maybe a rainbow and a cross have more in common than I ever thought about. That gave me plenty to ponder about our Father’s goodness and His promises and His presence.
P.S. I wrote this blog yesterday, and I only thought the afternoon storm was a frog-strangler. More rain overnight, and the bullfrog belted his solo most of the night, or maybe he was just clearing his throat.
