Rainbow Connection
Last Wednesday morning as I prepared to change lanes while crossing the bridge over the French Broad River, I was startled when I glanced in my rearview mirror. Colorful bands of refracted light arched above the traffic behind me. A rainbow!
My impulse was to pull over as soon as possible to photograph this surprising sight, but I knew from experience that images of rainbows snapped in urban areas are rarely satisfying – too many obstacles between the photographer and the phenomenon. Instead, I took a cue from Cam Jansen (a character in a series of children’s books written by David Adler) and made a mental “click” to preserve the moment.
Continuing toward my destination, I wondered why this sight seemed so startling. Timing was the answer. When did I usually see rainbows? In the afternoon in the eastern sky. Today, for the first time in my life, I was witnessing a rainbow at 8:30 AM in the western sky.
Since childhood, I have been fascinated by rainbows. My teenage bedroom featured a rainbow comforter and sheets on my bed, a glossy paper rainbow arching across the wall, a stuffed rainbow suspended from the ceiling, and an assortment of rainbow-adorned postcards and buttons affixed to my bulletin board.
Memorabilia from my bulletin board
For the record, my fondness for the spectrum of light stretching across the sky has nothing to do with the biblical story of Noah and the rainbow. What a horrifying tale! Why do we think that story is appropriate for young children? (Listen to Meredith Anne Miller talk about this issue.)
If I am looking for a scriptural rainbow connection, I choose to turn my eyes to the Psalter, not to Genesis: “The heavens declare the glory of God. The skies proclaim the work of God’s hands” (Psalm 19:1). Sunrises and sunsets, northern lights and rainbows all have the power to lift me out of my preoccupation of the moment, elevating my perspective, leaving me lost in wonder, love, and praise.
Rainbow over John Day Fossil Beds National Monument, November 2016
On the February morning when I viewed the multicolored optical illusion, I recalled another astonishing sight I once witnessed in the western sky. On an autumn afternoon as I was driving west through the rice fields of eastern Arkansas, I glanced up and noticed prismatic parentheses bracketing the sun. I blinked repeatedly to make sure my vision was clear. I had seen sun halos before, but I could not recall spotting colorful swaths only on the sides of this star. After arriving at my destination, I learned this atmospheric optical phenomenon is called a sun dog (which made me think of my favorite bookstore on the Emerald Coast).
Rainbow off the coast of Wales, July 2009
Why am I writing about rainbows when there is so much serious work to be done in the world? Because the only way I will be able to continue to work to alleviate suffering and spark joy is if I tend to my own soul. Noticing beauty is one way I do that. Paying attention to beauty is a nourishing spiritual practice that sustains and inspires me.
Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. In recent years I have chosen to add a practice to deepen my connection to God during this holy season. This year I have decided to keep a daily list of beauty emergencies to ground me in the beauty of the earth, the glory of the skies. Mountains and trees, sunrises and sunsets will reorient my mind and rejuvenate my spirit.
I hope I will see a rainbow during Lent. If not, in challenging moments I will remember the image of light refracted, reflected, and dispersed on a February morning, and my heart will be glad.
Rainbow over Mesa Verde National Park, June 2007
