We have lived in an earthquake zone for our entire lives.  When the earthquake in Puerto Vallarta broke into our sleep we were startled!.  In the corner a darkend light fixture was swaying, the sound of thunder ripped expansion joints, I felt sea-sick-nauseous in bed and then again everything shook and doors slammed as people were heading to the exit stairwells.  In a few minutes calm was restored.  The hotel clerk said this was as big as anything he had experienced.  This much I know about all my atmospheric-river and earthquake preparedness — we opened windows to look outside, we opened ours to see what was happening in the hall, we waited for someone to tell us what to do.  We were rattled awake.  In a few moments, in spite of unsure sea-legs we walked around checked our phones and in ten minutes were asleep.

The tattoos in the structures speak of bridge supports and posts crumbling under stress.  Yet the succulent stands a rich green in a season of drought.  And there the “shredded snow fence” blooms as if spring had sprung.  In the shadow of an earthquake, in the valley of drought, in the nights of our discontent there is a promise, a rainbow promise, that day will follow night.

 

The family gathering, truncated by my failures with technology, captures a wired sense of all-right.  As with all chosen families there is comfort in knowing that under the covenant of the rainbow there is an earth shaking promise that with eyes open, all will be well!