Rainbows make me rude.
Just a hint of those magical colors, and I stop mid-sentence to watch them grow.
I once left a dinner table, grabbed my camera and ran across the street when I spotted a giant rainbow stretching from one end of the park to the other.
I shot this rainbow on a gorgeous afternoon in Argentina, when I spent several glorious hours chasing rainbows on Iguazo Falls. Eager to soak in all those beautiful colors, I ditched our traveling group back at our hotel, and ran back to the National Park. I stayed until the park closed, wandering among breathtaking water falls, snapping pictures of rainbows and giggling at the beauty of it all.
I’ve read all about rainbows, and what their colors represent. I’ve heard songs about rainbows and listened to one in particular that brought me to tears every year I heard it.
Rainbows mirror all that is good and lovely in this world. Their ecumenical appeal transcends language. They don’t discriminate. They don’t cost anything. They resist human influence. They take their time. They preen in an elegant way. They never overstay. They offer hope. They don’t deflect rain, they embrace it and, in fact, require it to grow.
They’re even more magical when they come in pairs. They draw our eyes up.
Here’s hoping for a summer full of rainbows and beauty and hope.
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