Over the weekend, I went camping in Crested Butte. It was just five of us girls, out there to enjoy the beauty, enjoy one another, and take LOTS of pictures of the abundant wildflowers. In the few days before we left, I kept getting calls saying, "You know, it's supposed to rain and thunder there this weekend. You still going?" Heck yes I was still going! I mean, I hate being rained on in a tent as much as the next person, but I was too excited about the whole venture to bail that easily.
It rained. The dark clouds followed us as we drove the several hours to get there, hanging back and lingering like they were stalking us. And then, just as we finished setting up our tents, it rained. We were glad that it had already been our plan to drive back to town and find a fun place to eat dinner. We made our way up and out of the rough road leading to the campground, then turned onto the road that would take us to town.
It was then that we saw it: ahead of us lay perhaps the most beautiful rainbow scene that any of us had ever seen. Right across that gloomy grey sky stretched a brilliant rainbow, touching down in a green field on one side, and at the base of a rocky peak on the other. Its colors deepended as we watched it become a full arch, then form a double. The lighting was incredible, the rainbow creating a dividing line of light and dark in the sky. The whole thing was simply breathtaking.
I realized as I looked at this scene that it is usually my hope (and the hope of most sane people) that a camping trip will be free from rain. It's true for life as a whole- I just don't want to get rained on. But as I sit here typing, bringing up in my mind that beautiful scene- that absolutely awe-inspiring scene- all I can think is, "I sure am glad it rained."