Double Rainbows

During a multi-day children’s program, it takes about an hour for kids to warm up and begin to feel safe. When the group is primarily filled with seven, eight, and nine-year-olds, sometimes this process speeds up. It doesn’t take long to see the deep bonds and special affection these girls and boys have for their family members. Despite all the challenges posed by addiction, as well as all the related problems that often accompany it, most children care deeply about the person trapped by addiction in their families. It’s amazing to watch many young children sit up tall in their chairs, nod affirmatively, and look relieved that their loved one asked for help and is now in treatment.

As their pride grows with more understanding about addiction, treatment, and recovery, kids vocalize it in a variety of ways. In this five-day program, a chorus of “My mom is a doctor.”, “My dad’s a teacher.”, “My mom is a secretary.”, “My father works construction!”, filled the room.

Johnny, a talkative nine-year-old not about to be left out of this discussion, loudly declared, “My dad drives a truck with eighteen wheels. I know, I’ve counted each one of them.” Donna, a sage eight-year-old offered, “My mom has the most important job in the United States of America.” Against my better judgement I went for the “bait” and asked, “What does she do?” With a wry smile Donna announced, “She takes care of me.” The room erupted with giggles and laughter.

On the third day of this healing process, a powerful monsoon dumped about a half inch of rain in a matter of minutes during lunch. The skies were dark, and the thunder and lightning put on a dazzling, unforgettable show. Mother Nature was in her full beauty and splendor. I was busy preparing the next activity as the children made their way back to our room. Rosa excitedly came running in to describe the spectacular rainbow she had just seen stretched out across the mountain. “Let’s go see the rainbow, Jerry. It’s so beautiful,” she shared.

Without hesitation I replied, “It’s time for an activity to learn about feelings.” We were behind schedule, and I wanted to get to this critical part now. I soon realized the unpopularity of my suggestion. “Please can we go see the rainbow,” Chad politely asked. The sounds of clapping and cheering now filled the room. Once this subsided, I stated, “It’s important we work on our feelings now.” This was my futile attempt to get the group focused and back on track.

Laticia, a bright ten-year-old, raised her hand as tears welled up in her eyes. When I acknowledged her, she softly replied, “But it’s a double rainbow. I might never get to see another like it.” This stopped me in my tracks, but she wasn’t finished yet. “I’ve kept my feelings inside for a long time,” she continued. “I don’t think ten more minutes will matter that much.”

I couldn’t argue with that logic. As we headed out to marvel at the double rainbows, I can vividly recall the looks of awe and excitement on the children’s faces. In that moment I had to wonder - who are the teachers and who is the student?

On a memorable day that I will cherish forever I learned a valuable lesson – schedules can be adjusted. Witnessing a moment of the beauty of nature can’t wait.

Double rainbows. Wow!