Sometimes the clouds in the pictures aren't pink. Sometimes they're lavender or peach or twilight blue. She called this one a double dip of peach sorbet:
Some days she sends just one lovely picture with a short note reminding me that we serve a God who is always giving us these glimpses of beauty in our day if we would just take our heads out of our selves and look around us. She sent this one to remind us to take time at the end of the day to marvel at the beauty of the world around us:
Some days (like yesterday) she sends multiple images of pictures she sees and wants to share. The pictures ranged from sunrises to sunsets and everything in between. It was like spending a day seeing the world through her eyes, even though we live eight hours (by car) apart. A favorite one she sent was this one:
Then came a bunch of other beauties, finished by this one:
But the most lovely thing, to me, about these pictures is that she's sharing them. She sees this lovely thing, and she could choose to hoard it in a file on her computer to go back to over and again when she wants to see something beautiful to soothe her soul. But instead of keeping these pictures close, she's sharing them. That may not seem like a big deal, but it is. The last couple years have been difficult ones, with some pretty devastating losses, and for awhile she curled inward for protection and healing. Pain can cause us to become hermits and forget that a burden shared makes it lighter. And for awhile, my aunt kept her pain close. However, sky-blue-pink skies come in the morning and have a way of smoothing the edges that loss creates. Now she's reaching out and sharing her moments of joy with me, and that is the real beauty of a sky-blue-pink picture: the sharing.