There‘s a children‘s song in my church that begins:

I like to look for rainbows whenever there is rain,

and ponder on the beauty of an earth made clean again…


Texas rain in July is no small blessing.

This afternoon, my backyard steams as the sun heats the wet grass, and I think of the rain that other July. I think of the soft sounds of rain as I lay awake that night, and of the wet ground early the next morning where I sat on the curb calling funeral homes.

I’m not sure that I’ve done a good enough job sharing the rainbow that followed that sad, sad day.

Four years ago, the impact of suicide sent shockwaves through our family, but I know that this July finds us stronger than we were.

When the rain cleared, a new love for my siblings ensued, and a calmer, less judgmental me prevailed.  When I look back, I know those are the lessons she strived so hard to teach me, that she yearned for me to know.

Each day that passes, mothering my own children only teaches me more about unconditional love, the kind of love my mom gave me, the kind I like to think she’s finally found for herself.


The rain also reminds me of this:


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