pockets of pink.
Last night I went for a run just before the sun went down. The evening sky was stormy with gray billowing clouds, dark and oppressive. I ran on the side of a busy road through a very unpicturesque construction site, dodging neon orange traffic cones and rubble from the dig. I’m sure you get the point: my run was not what anyone would call “scenic.”
At the halfway point, right before I turned around to head home, I sprinted up the hill of a freeway overpass. When I reached the top, I turned around to take in the view, and what I saw surprised me—the barest hint of a sunset peeking through the clouds. A pocket of pink that seemed as if it was made just for me.
I don’t think I can properly describe the feeling, but seeing that shock of color smeared across the sky instantly brought me a moment of peace. It was one of those tender mercies, a little wink from God that made me feel seen and known.
As I stood on that freeway overpass with cars zooming past me, I watched the bright pink sky begin to fade and thought about how those colors had been right behind me the whole time I was running. But instead of noticing, I’d looked at the heavy clouds and the less-than-ideal landscape and mistakenly assumed that everything was gloomy and dark and surrounded by ugly chainlink fences because that was all I could see in front of me.
That’s all I was focused on.
But if I had turned my head, even just slightly while I was running, I would’ve seen that pocket of pink a little sooner. I could have enjoyed the colors and the sheer magnitude of the sky a little earlier. I could have extended that quiet moment with my Father for far longer.
I think we can all see the metaphor here.
Friend, I don’t know what you’re going through right now, but I can imagine that it’s hard and that you’re in the middle of climbing your own cloud-covered mountains or slogging through a not-so-scenic route. We all have our struggles, and while some are more obvious than others, every trial takes its toll; every heart has something to hurt over.
I know how tempting it is to look around you and only notice the storm brewing and the night falling. I understand how easy it is to see our everyday landscapes as monotonous, something we just need to get through in order to be somewhere else.
But what if we shifted our gazes for just a moment? What if we allowed a slight change in our perspective? What would we see if we paused and turned our heads?
It makes me wonder how often God leaves us little pockets of pink in the sky and how often we miss them because we’re too focused on the surrounding gray. Or maybe we’re waiting for something bigger and better to show up. It makes me wonder how many little miracles I’ve ignored.
Sometimes God works in mysterious ways, but other times He’s quite obvious. He’s the artist splashing colors across the sky, reminding us to look at what He’s capable of. He’s the Father who sent His Son—the bringer of light and the maker of every sunset—to walk this path with each of us individually.
And most of the time this change in perspective doesn’t even require us to completely alter our course or turn around and start again. Instead, He offers us gentle nudges, reminders to look in another direction, just a slight turn of the head. Infinite chances to try again.
He gifts us the opportunity to see our surroundings in a different light.
Or a different color.
Like a flush of pink; a little love note on a stormy night.
