Where Shadows Fall You May Also Find This

{By Amy Breitmann}


I had read somewhere that rainbows are actually perfect circles and down here on the ground we only see the arch.  The brilliant colors are only half the story.  It seems crazy to me: where is the other half?  Where is the rest of such promise?


I had seen a perfect circle rainbow from my window seat on a flight out west once. From that perspective I could see the round colors.  It was perplexing.   I tried to capture a picture of it but the colors were elusive.  How had I never known that a rainbow was really a circle? How had I known only part of it’s beauty?


Amy's rainbow post Apr 29


The news channels had called for rain all day and I watched the skies.


My plan was to spray-paint patio furniture so I needed to know the forecast.


It was too risky to tackle my paint project outside, so I pulled out the rod iron chairs and planters into the garage and began blasting red everywhere.


I kissed my teenage girl goodbye as she left for a birthday party at the lake and I imagined it would be a beautiful sunset there for her.  The clouds and sun had competed all day, summer introducing herself. I felt a little lonely in the transition to the next season~ left with my creativity.  My daughter’s driving away felt a little like abandonment.  But I knew it was really just the forward marching of time.


I stood alone with my thoughts as the gray skies began to drizzle.


I glanced up to see a few rays of sunlight, the brightness interrupting the falling drops.


I muttered to myself. “Look for the rainbow. There is bound to be a rainbow” All the variables seemed right and who doesn’t need a bright spot on a melancholy day?


I must have looked ridiculous with paint-can still in hand, head craned back, spinning around in my drive-way for the possible chance of a show.


I searched the clouds, now dark enough to drop rain.  Beams of sunlight reached down too,  in between and mixing.  But no rainbow.


Discouraged and determined, I stumbled through the house over laundry to the back door, camera in hand and the dogs tripping me up.  When I glanced up in my own backyard there was a beautiful scene but no rainbow.  Just tall pines, pink clouds, and sunlight that cast a white glow over the gate.


And then I remembered that rainbows appear with the sun behind us, the same place where shadows can be found. So I turned around. And it struck me, just then, how it was not the first time I had to turn around to see goodness, beauty, and the promises.   


I unlocked the gate, stopped to smell the gardenia, and ran back to the  driveway.  I stood there where the scattered suns rays were at my back. Hoping the light would catch just right on the storm up ahead.


I waited and watched, not taking my eyes off the sky.  Then, as  if on cue like an Etch a Sketch, colors wiped an array across the sky. Right before my eyes, in the looking and waiting, a perfect arch.


I sat down in on the front porch swing, awed.


Amy's rainbow post3 Apr 29 Amy's rainbow post4 Apr 29 Amy's rainbow post5 Apr 29

Amy's rainbow post2 Apr 29


And I remembered.


I think of her.  The girl who needs a full promise today. The girl who’s searching this whole wide world for a sign that there is more than stormy skies. I pray promises for another friend who needs a fresh perspective, cancer stealing more and more of her, the chosen cure that feels like it’s killing her. And another who squints hard to see any light at all, depression lying to her once again.


I think about how desperately I need a promise of hope in a situation where relationships lie in ruin.


And it seems to me, at that moment on my front porch swing, staring at the rainbow: maybe the greatest act of faith, when rain is falling hard, is to lift our eyes upward and keep searching for promise.  And perhaps when we search long enough, when hope shows up, when we finally catch a glimpse, as beautiful as it may be, we only see the half of it.


1 Corinthians 13:12: “For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.  Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully know.”



Amy 1Amy Breitmann’s name means “Beloved” and she’s on a quest to believe it. Her boots carry Midwest soil but now she kicks it up in the south where she weaves marriage, ministry and motherhood together. Though she’s been a Christian as far as she can remember, her boots are covered with mud from her wanderings. As a cancer survivor, she was the Co-Founder of The Lydia Project, a ministry which holds hands with other women facing cancer.  She also is a lost-sock finder, a keeper of secrets for the best cheesecake recipe, and gets grace in the ordinary. The words that tumble out on her blog Beloved in Blue Jeans are balm that the Spirit speaks to quiet her soul. She loves others to eavesdrop there and walk a bit of this cobbled path with her. She’s a Co-Visionary with Tammy, Facebook Team Editor, Big-Dreamer, and Writer. Find her on her blog by clicking here, or on Facebook  or Twitter.



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