Over the Rainbow

A few weeks ago, I gave a talk in church (on this amazing Conference talk), and as occasionally tends to happen in this situation, I ended up learning a little something from it.

I learned to stop looking over the rainbow.

I'll admit it.  

I look over the rainbow.  Sometimes.  A lot of times, even.

 I get caught up in the dream that there is a place where the clouds are far behind me and troubles might actually melt like lemondrops.  

It's easy when your days consist of making PB&J's, changing diapers, and cleaning toilets to imagine that there is something better out there.  Something significant.  Something special. 

And then I remember the Wizard of Oz.

 

Sure, life would be easier if our challenges were overcome by clicking our heels together, or waving a magic wand, or splashing the villains with water. 

But then I remember that life is about enjoying the journey.  

It's about offering a hand when a friend is feeling a little rusty.

It's about learning to dust yourself off, pick yourself up, and put your straw back in place.

It's about finding the courage that you didn't even know you had.  Even when the yellow brick road is dark, and lonely, and scary.

Because, really, those are the moments that matter.  The moments when you discover that you do have a brain.  And a heart.  And a whole lot of courage. And that there really is No Place Like Home.

And I'm reminded once again that it's about being happy.
Right now.  

Tornadoes and witches and all.

And when I get carried away in those moments of doubt, I just need to remind myself that they are my something better.  My something significant.  My something special.

 

And the beauty of it is, that I don't need to go to the other side of the rainbow to find happiness. 

I just need to look in my own backyard.