Although the sky was fifty shades of grey, there must have
been enough of a hole in the clouds to allow a shaft of sunlight in: we walked
towards a weak, but visible, rainbow.
Life can be five hundred shades of grey sometimes, but
through it all there will be a rip in the clouds, a shaft of light, and a
rainbow. In every teardrop, a rainbow.
I’m thinking about friends and family struggling in tough
times right now, but underscoring these thoughts is the low bass drone of a
world in turmoil through man-made violence and through natural disasters. Myanmar
and Yemen, Bangladesh and Houston, the Caribbean islands and Mexico, Syria and
North Korea. And more.
In all that, it’s hard to see a rainbow. I have to keep
focused on the Light of the world. In him is the rainbow, and the promised
land.
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