I have been gardening this summer. Now, don’t get the wrong impression…I garden much the way Bob sails (haven’t seen What About Bob? You need to. Oh you need to. Food for the soul, that movie.), but still, this summer my feeble attempts have yielded a crop that my girls and I are proud of. Peas, beans, sunflowers, potatoes, pumpkins – all filling our garden with food and our hearts with excitement. There is something amazing about watching things grow, isn’t there?
The other day my oldest daughter asked me when the sunflowers grew so tall. That led to a beautiful discussion about how all good things take time…and nurturing…and water and food…even our hearts and minds. Which has me reflecting on other aspects of life as well. The ebbs and flows of life can often feel like valleys without end, punctuated only by brief mountaintop experiences. Stopping to smell the flowers (either figuratively or literally, although I definitely recommend smelling a literal flower every now and then) helps us see the wonder and beauty even in a valley or a plain.
My girls can’t pass a flower by without smelling it. It’s pretty awesome when you think about it. At 3 and almost 6 there is so much to do and see, and yet…a flower or a butterfly is deemed worthy enough to merit long minutes of restful watching, smelling, or chasing. I love that about my girls. and I want more of that in my own life too.
That’s where the main picture for this post comes in. And there are a few more below, too, since who can have too many photos of a double rainbow over a lake, am I right!
We saw this on our way back from a family road trip recently. We were in the home stretch – that last hour that seems to last for five; kids melting down, us losing our ish because they are melting down, the car ride’s diet of chips and sugar water taking its toll on us all. To make it worse, it was pouring rain, adding a level of doom and gloom to an already weary group of travelers. Then, as we rounded the lake, IT appeared. A double rainbow smack dab in the middle of the clouds. We were all shocked out of our crabby attitudes. We stopped the car. We gawked. We drove some more and then stopped and gawked yet again. We were like tourists in our own hometown, and we didn’t even care. Even the little girls knew that we were seeing something special and rare.
About a gazillion photos later and a few pounds of grumpy lighter, we turned the car back toward home. I want to frame these pictures forever, as a reminder to myself that after the rain, there will be a rainbow, and it is worth taking a moment to enjoy.