We must always find hope.
Our live will be filled with dark clouds that make the world seem gloomy and unwelcoming but we must breathe through it, know that there is a tomorrow and that tomorrow brings promise.
Promise that our pain and sacrifices will not be in vain. That the tears we shed will not last forever, that when the clouds break the the rains subside the dreams we sowed will bloom.
The harvest will be sweeter, the sun will be brighter, the world will be washed with the sweet smell of summer rain and we will clean up the damage and realize the storm made things better.
The storm leaves you numb, leaves you broken.
Grief and loss spins many storms.
As the anger and pain of the storm subsides occasionally a rainbow fills the sky.
Rainbows are seeped in symbolism. Various beliefs postulate that a single rainbow is a human descending from heaven to earth, a celestial bridge between heaven and earth, a link between lunar and feminine energy, luck or a promise from God to that we are not forgotten.
Through our grief we stand, we breath, we pick up the pieces and rebuild.
A child born in the wake of child loss is called a rainbow baby. Mothers who have survived hold new promise in their hands that tomorrow will be better that hope exists.
Both my children are rainbows.
My dear friend Amber lost her little girls, Emersyn and Georgianna. My heart broke for her. I don’t know how a heart can weather that storm.
Sometimes the storm still rages and a rainbow sneaks through anyway. For Amber a double rainbow arrived, Oliver and Paxton.