Why there are so many songs about rainbows . . .

Sometimes you just have to be there. A storm blew up quickly this evening. When I walked outside after the rain had ended the world around me glowed with sunlight filtered by low hanging clouds and leaves heavy with raindrops. As I looked toward the horizon a rainbow divided the heavens. Above the bow the sky was a dark blue-gray. Below the bow the space glowed a fiery red. I was alone and had no one with whom to share the moment, so I ran to the car, grabbed my camera and took lots of pictures, knowing this kind of display is fleeting.

And it is impossible to capture. Sometimes you just have to be there.

When I was in junior high I went to a Boy Scout National Jamboree in Idaho. We spent the night at Yellowstone. As all good tourists must do, we gathered around Old Faithful to view the geyser erupt. Sure enough, true to its name, it erupted, more or less right on time. When I got home I had about fifty pictures of Old Faithful erupting.

In the photos Old Faithful looked a lot like a lawn sprinkler.

Sometimes you just have to be there.

(I realize that part of my problem is that I have never invested in a camera capable of capturing much of anything except Christmas gatherings, snow pictures, and beach shots, but work with me here for the deeper point).

The birth of a child. The depth of a relationship. The romance of a perfect moment. The heat of a battle. The thrill of victory. The disappointment of defeat. The grief of a loss. The perfect concert. The best game ever. The devastation of a tornado. The breaking of a heart.

Sometimes you just have to be there. Photographs fall short. Words are inadequate.

There are all kinds of relationships. We know about the ones with other people. But there are other kinds that are important to our people relationships.

There are relationships with the moment. These kinds of relationships connect people and things, time and timelessness, movement and stillness, intellect, senses and emotion, and the only images or recordings are encrypted on the soul. Sometimes one soul. Sometimes two. Sometimes millions. Connected by the moment.

A moment that cannot be photographed or recorded or explained.

Only shared by those who were there.

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