“To see a rainbow, you must survive the rain.”
Without the lows, would we know the highs? Without the pauses between the notes, would we still have a song? Without winter, would there be a summer?
We can know this is true, that we need the rain for the rainbows, but it doesn’t change our desperation for the blizzard to clear. And when the blue sky remains beyond the horizon, we start to lose faith that the clouds will ever clear away.
So we call on the wind, and we ask her to blow the clouds away. We wait and we cover our selves and our loved ones with a blanket for protection from the elements. We wait and we pray and we float in the ocean, our bodies suspended in the absence of gravity.
We count our blessings and we thank our challenges. We curse our heartbreak and we ask for another chance, and we promise to make the best of it. We turn our faces towards the sky and we quench our thirst by drinking the rain.
Today marks the beginning of a brand new baby month. A month of pink and red hearts and boxes of chocolate, of jazz and beads and masks embellished with sequins and feathers.
For me, January was a time of unpacking boxes, scratched faces, back and hip pains, lost keys, a damaged hard drive, irretrievable data, a broken furnace, wicked viruses (the kind that occupies humans, not computers), crippling weather, missed work outs, sleepless nights, strong winds, a new home, and a very sweet second birthday.
It wasn’t the smoothest of months, but it wasn’t a bad month. Some days, I was unhappy. Other days, I had no time to notice my emotions. And on all of the other days, I felt blessed. Because I am blessed. Because the bumps make the road interesting. Because the rain makes the rainbow.