The rainbow disappears

 We drove underneath a rainbow tonight and it disappeared. We could see the magnificent display in front of us and then behind us, but it was not to be found when we were directly underneath. I do believe that is a reflection of much of our lives. Right now, I cannot really see the rainbow, but I know it is there, nevertheless, because I saw it ahead of me and I have seen it in the times when I have looked back to try to find it. 

Lochlan has had dark circles underneath his eyes for the past several days. He has slept poorly, at best, going to bed quite late, wandering in the wee hours of the morning and then climbing into bed with us well before we wish to be awake. He has had several rounds of diarrhea in all the wrong places. He has raged and been quite naughty. Until tonight I wasn't able to decipher the cause. Then, Kelton found him sneaking a large swig of chai tea latte hidden deep within the bowels of the refrigerator. The ingredients not only include milk, but also caffeine. 

He started school this week, just three hours (blessed THREE WHOLE HOURS!) a day, and I have found myself up (with Lochlan usually) in the wee hours of the morning pondering the endless possibilities for him to sabotage this opportunity/resource. If he utilizes his prodigious skill set and acts upon his tendencies, his teachers are unlikely to tolerate the behavior(s). In this, too, I have to just face tomorrow in forward motion, not borrowing trouble where it does not yet exist, but instead choosing to place my trust where it does not easily rest. 

We woke up to find that during the night Lochlan had filled our bathtub (a large horse water trough that we converted into a tub) to the top with water and all the liquid soap to be found. Then, he proceeded to fill the tub with various baskets full of items from the boys' bedroom and bathroom, including electric toothbrushes, most of their clothes, towels, stuffed animals and... toilet paper rolls (etc.). 

Kaysee and I took the kids to go shopping at Goodwill last week just to "feel normal" for a couple hours. 10 minutes after we walked into the store, Lochlan peed all over - a full lake. Urine dripped off items in the cart and poured onto the floor. People looked at us like we were crazy and irresponsible or walked toward us in total oblivion of our challenge. We finally found a helpful employee who assisted us in picking it up and then we exited the store at a full gallop. Kaysee and I were both on the verge of tears. Madigan cried on the way home, through yet another storm of rain, thunder and violent lighting which escorted us home. All of us had lost our desire to pretend like we could have a normal day. Sometimes, the accumulation of all that is and all that has been begins to feel truly burdensome. 

Where does our strength come from? Where does our hope find it's source and why is it filled when we do not expect or anticipate it? The sun rises each day and reminds us that we are to do the same. I look at the burned forest that surrounds my beautiful hill and it is full of life! Even so many of the scorched trees are abundantly coming back to life. The wildflowers cover all the blackened soil and the air is full of the fragrance of what is living. The green is more vibrant after the fire. 

So, in these coming days of rain and subsequent flooding (we experienced our 13th large flood today), in the hours when my heart is flooded with the grief of what I cannot change in and for Lochlan, I will look to the hills, to what has been created for me to SEE and KNOW. I keep finding the strength for tomorrow, the joy that utterly overwhelms me and it is given in all the unexpected places. It is found even when I'm not looking for it.