Gray mist hung over the interstate as I sat behind the wheel of our even grayer truck in a pink sweatshirt with sequins and gray jeans, to match the mist. The grass grew greener than I remembered seeing in a long time this early in spring.  Little fluffs of white cotton lingered in the red dirt, field after field.  The occasional bright purply punch of a red bud tree popped against the muted sky, announcing spring to all its leafless neighbors.

Each time I looked over my shoulder to shift into the next lane, I caught a glimpse of a barefoot little girl asleep on a pillowy pink bear. I passed an old granary painted pink and shortly after, an abandoned pink house, windows busted out, just before the exit to Noodle Dome Road. Pink pulled me to the past.

My grandparents’ 1950’s home had pink shutters and trim.  You know the color- poodle skirt pink.  Behind a horizontal fence painted to match was a garden full of black currants, fruit trees and wild yellow roses. If you peeked over that pink fence at just the right time, you might catch a glimpse of a little girl hunting those hard-coated brightly colored marshmallow eggs, or a limber little lady perched in the branch of the peach or the pear. If you’re lucky, you might find a teenage girl sunbathing in a swimsuit and big sunglasses while listening to the rustle of sheets on the clothesline and The Steve Miller Band on a Walkman. “I really love your peaches, want to shake your tree…” I still miss the taste of the pear preserves and currant jelly that began under the care of the sunburned gardener working behind that pink fence.

Pink is made by mixing red and white.  It’s the mix of the color of blood and fire, of passion and rage with the color of light, purity and innocence.  I never thought I loved pink, but it’s growing on me.  My family is red – a touch of red hair, red-hot tempers, red-hot tears from too much grief.  But what happens when light doesn’t shine on red but changes red? Mutes it? Tempers it? What happens when purity and innocence tame red’s passions so they are targeted at justice and love, so that red’s anger is righteous and good?

When someone asks that sweet little girl curled up with her teddy what color describes her family, maybe she’ll say pink.  Maybe she’ll remember goodnight kisses in her pink bubble gum room or her mom singing to the radio in that pink sparkly sweatshirt . But most of all, I hope she might be able to say we had holy passions, fire in our souls, big hearts. But we were clear and calm and full of light. I want to be like those red bud trees announcing to our neighbors, “spring is here! New life is now.” For her sake. For the glory of the One who paints the sky pink.

My grandparents may have just been stylish when they built their pink house on Dogwood Lane. Maybe they had the same hopes.  Maybe I’ll have a pink house someday, too. 

Who knows where pink can take you?  If you have little girls, you no doubt know you can build a career on pink as the author of Pinkalicious has discovered.  What you just read above is my response to the following exercise from Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones:

“Choose a color-for instance, pink-and take a fifteen minute walk. On your walk notice wherever there is pink. Come back to your notebook and write for fifteen minutes.”

I didn’t take a walk. I took a long drive down the interstate, but while my kids snoozed, I noticed pink for a stretch. I almost gave up on pink until those buildings showed up and the Spirit moved. This exercise is one of a long list of suggestions Goldberg gives for when you want to write but don’t know what to write about. I’m going to work through these over the next several weeks here on the blog. She suggests that writers keep a list of our own ideas – flashes of memory, overheard conversations that grab your attention, a line from a song, a nostalgic smell. I really like this idea.

So here’s the challenge for this week: start your list if you haven’t already and do the exercise.  It’s a fun one if you’re in a new place for Spring Break or maybe it will help you see a familiar place in new light. Notice any color you choose for fifteen minutes, and then come back to your notebook and write about it for fifteen minutes. Email your response to shannon@lifeprompted.com. I can’t wait to see where the rainbow takes you!