Growing up under the wide Colorado sky, our family often watched the sun set behind the Rockies, casting pinks, oranges, and reds through our living room window. And every morning, the sunrise announced a new day to our castle. From our seats in that cosmic theater, we also watched storms roll from the west to east across our north horizon. Thunderclouds built and rumbled, taunting us with the possibility of rain.
On one of those occasions, when my parents, my brother Christopher, and I stood marveling at a rainbow, Mom said, “Let’s go find the end of it!” We were old enough to know the pursuit would be in vain. But, with no voiced opposition, we loaded into the car and headed east.
I remember sensations of hope, wonder, and stubborn optimism that sparked through my head. What if?
What if C.S. Lewis was onto something, and we were about to enter another world? What if this turned out to be the grand adventure, the one that changed us in such a way that we would return from our journey as kings and queens? What if we found the pot of gold?
Eventually, the sun set and we returned home. A brief adventure that concluded with the mundane rhythms of brushing teeth and going to bed. That was okay. It was never really about the rainbow anyway, but about child-like faith and wonder. I rested in deep satisfaction, with no need to touch the spectrum in the sky. The light of possibility had been enough for my soul.
Years later, Mom and Dad drove me to California so I could chase another rainbow, an acting career. I had no degree and no guarantees. But I had parents who believed, smiled at the future, and sang old country songs through the arid lands of Utah, Nevada, and onto the Los Angeles freeways. They gave full support to my dream. For my brief California sojourn, I lived on two part-time jobs and the healthy dose of faith my parents deposited in me. But like the certainty of the setting sun, a low minimum wage and high gas prices brought an end to my time on the West Coast. Mom came and helped me drive back home. Just like the unsuccessful pursuit of the rainbow, my hopes didn’t die when the Hollywood sign shrank in my rearview mirror. It was fun while it lasted. But it was time to look towards something else.
As we drove, my heart sorted the details. Maybe life doesn’t have to be filled with awards and accomplishments. Attaining wealth, promotions, fame, new furniture…they are all things that happen ‘out there.’ I don’t have to touch every shiny thing. Can I walk through boring days without facing an existential crisis?
I’m still reaching for something greater, believing that one day I will be lifted into those arms that stretched rainbows across the sky and spun my dreams into existence. Meanwhile, I’d rather live on faith that sings through the dry places than give up on chasing possibilities.
I didn’t find the end of the rainbow, but I did find the role of a lifetime—right in my home. Rainbows and other illusions may pull our gaze “where the grass is greener.” But the real pot of gold is always right here, right now.
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