SHAMROCK
Shamrock came from my childhood in Kansas City, where every St. Patrick’s Day felt like a small miracle. No matter what was happening in my life, I knew that parade would come on. I knew the television would fill with green, green coats, green hats, green beads, and for a moment, joy would be everywhere.
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It didn’t matter how heavy the night before had been. That day always arrived. The parade always came.
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I only experienced it in person once, my junior year of high school. I remember being dressed in green from head to toe, green shirt, green shoes finally part of something I had watched from afar for so long. I wasn’t just observing anymore. I was inside it. Inside the color. Inside the celebration.
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I’ve always believed in four-leaf clovers. I’ve always believed in rainbows. I grew up chasing the idea of the pot of gold at the end of one, believing that if I just kept moving forward, something beautiful would eventually meet me there. Shamrock holds all of that the hope, the waiting, the belief that color could survive even the hardest seasons.
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Later in life, during a time of deep healing, I found myself chasing rainbows again, but this time it wasn’t about a parade or a holiday. It was about survival. After so many people walked away from me, and after I had to walk away from others, I realized I was still searching. Still hoping. Still looking for proof that something good was waiting on the other side of everything I had endured.
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For a long time, life handed me coal. Over and over again. And I kept trying to turn it into something meaningful something worth holding. I was looking for my pot of gold in other people, hoping someone would finally see the gold that already existed inside me.
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Then something shifted.
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At some point, I realized I wasn’t just chasing the rainbow anymore — the rainbow was chasing me. The gold started showing up everywhere once I stopped looking for it in places it was never meant to be. Once I began seeking myself the way I had always sought love from others, clarity arrived. Awareness arrived. Peace arrived.
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God became my rainbow.
God became my pot of gold.
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And Shamrock became a reminder that what I was searching for had been circling me all along — waiting for me to recognize it.