The Flag on the Mailbox

After Hurricane Katrina swallowed everything Margaret Boudreaux owned in the Lower Ninth Ward, she stood in ankle-deep mud and told her grown children she was done. Done with New Orleans. Done trusting that life could hold together. Her son Daryl drove down from Baton Rouge the next weekend and rebuilt her mailbox before touching anything else. He cemented it deep, painted it bright yellow, and fixed a small American flag to the post. "Mama," he said, "every time you see that flag, you remember — I am coming back for you. Not maybe. Not if I get around to it. I am coming back, and we are rebuilding this house."

That was 2005. The flag weathered three more hurricane seasons. Some weeks Margaret wondered if Daryl had forgotten. But every time she pulled into that shattered street and saw the yellow mailbox standing, she remembered his words. And Daryl kept his promise — every weekend, another wall framed, another room restored.

In Genesis 9, God plants His own flag in the sky after the worst destruction the world has ever known. The rainbow is not decoration. It is God Almighty binding Himself to a promise — not to Noah alone, but to every living creature, for every generation. And the remarkable thing is this: God says the bow is a reminder to Himself. "I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant." The One who cannot forget chooses to remember — publicly, beautifully, every time the storm clouds part.