If you’re not actively searching for them, great things very near to you are easy to miss.
Last night while driving through a neighboring city, I was fortunate to catch the beginnings of the full moon rising; that yellow fingernail pushing past the purple mountains. Even shy as she was at first, I was awed by the sight of her. I had hoped to witness her coming out party before I arrived at my destination, but I did not.
Tonight she will be mine to encounter.
I’ve talked about the moon many times . . . I cannot help it, it seems. Of all His art work, I would have to say the full, ripened, be-yellowed moon is likely to be my favorite. And though my heart does not warm for them as it does for her harvest majesty, rainbows — the fickle and mischievous beauties — are quite wondrous, too. I haven’t seen one in a while. This, because we have had very little rain in the past couple of months. Autumn continues to stroke the underside of our chins with succulent breezes and heady scents, only to blast us with a roasting sun and arid temperatures that rapaciously pull skin from the bone. On the chance that I do see a rainbow while driving, or even luckier, if I am walking outside, I will stop to admire her, descrying her colors and searching for that Irish eidolon filling his pot o’ gold. Rainbows are nice, they are, but recently I stopped to wonder what might lie beyond the rainbow. If I could, if I were able to levitate, ascend into the sky to where the prism princess spreads her arches and take a peek just over her, would I find something else? Something more? I think so.
Maybe you’re already thinking it? I dance my way toward a very special song. We’ll get there.
I don’t believe there is a single one of us who hasn’t at one point or another stopped to wonder what could await them over the rainbow. Perhaps not those exact thoughts, but God wired his children not to be purely logical, but also chimerical; to dream our big, big dreams, to wish upon stars, to crave fallen raindrops upon our faces, to search for the hidden treasure, and to bask in the sight of His Good things.
Real life, if I may be blunt and honest for a moment, can be . . . less than magical at times, yes? We do not exist in a perfect world, nor a paradise. I have never been more reminded of this fact, than just recently. Dark, bleak days without a sun, a rainbow, or a moon attempt to foist themselves upon us without warning or mercy. Real life delivers, and we are left to deal with an aftermath of such galling proportions and sordid authenticity our minds spin catawampus. That very first step into devastation is like putting your mouth to the tailpipe and inhaling. It only gets worse, though, if we don’t move.
My faith tells me Heaven awaits us the day we return home; and even better, the company of the One I love; but until then . . . I must content myself with knowing perfection exists, even if I cannot touch it just yet. Still, my heart years for that place somewhere over the rainbow . . . the other day I longed for a piece of holy paragon so badly that I could not rest until I sang of my desire.
My thoughts are, I cannot be the only one keening for a spectacular view. I cannot be the only one desperate for a seat on hued shoulders; to goggle at something grand, a thieving marvelousness built of splendor; a colorful dynasty imbuing the senses into compete saturation.
I sing. I love it. When I sing, it’s as if the doors around my heart fling back and my soul takes flight on the notes rising from my belly. On Sunday I recorded a raw, unedited version of Judy Garland’s Somewhere Over the Rainbow. It made me happy. I felt more than little lighter just after. So my hope is that, listening to the words, the same will happen for you. As you listen, maybe close your eyes, picturing in your mind what lie over your rainbow.
Be blessed, and Happy Tuesday, my friends.
Photo source provided by: http://www.missouriskies.org/rainbow/february_rainbow_2006.html