There are three mesquite trees in my yard. The largest one, which my husband loved the most, bloomed beautifully in spring, but shortly after my husband passed away, it suddenly withered and died.
People told me it was just a coincidence, but I couldn’t accept that. Its death mirrored my husband’s passing and symbolized something far more significant that I can’t explain.
One evening, lost in my grief, I found myself questioning everything, life, faith, even myself and God. Without knowing why, I stepped outside. Then I saw it: a full, vibrant double rainbow shining brightly behind the dead tree with no rain in sight. I stood there, stunned.
First, a ‘rainbow without rain’ is a rare sight. Second, rainbows typically last only a few fleeting minutes before fading. Against the bare, lifeless branches, the rainbow felt like a whisper from heaven, waiting there at just the right moment, only for me.
I wept. “Thank you, Lord, for the rainbow behind the dead tree.”
I didn’t want to cut down the tree. For over a year, it had stood there, a silent witness to my sorrow. But its limbs began to droop, and the time had come.
Today, I hid by the window, watching as the service guys cut it down. It felt like pieces of my own flesh being torn away. Even as a dead tree, its dried branches still shed the scorching sun. Now, the entire yard feels too wide open with the sun shining directly down.
My heart ached, and my soul cried.
Yet, the rainbow I captured behind the dead tree will stay with me forever, a sign that even in death, something beautiful and hopeful can still emerge.