The Big Picture by Erin Kirkland

This is the time of year when I am desperate for something, anything that resembles spring besides a number on my calendar. It mocks me, this month of April, because every single calendar I view has a gorgeous tableau of spring's gleeful colors shouting out the entrance to warmer weather and sunshine.

I had a few free minutes the other day to take a short trail run, and while jogging along I began to inwardly whine about the lack of "green-ness" in my world once again. Tree branches stood out in stark contrast to the sky, and the dingy snow seemed like concrete beneath my feet. I think Tom talked about the colors of an Alaskan winter/early spring once in a sermon, and I've never forgotten the impact. Gray and Beige. Sky, ground, foliage; yep, that's what I thought I was seeing last Monday. Nothing but nothing.

But at the crest of a hill I stopped for a minute to stretch and something caught my eye. There, at the tippy-tip of a willow shrub, almost imperceptable, was indeed something green. I looked around at the rest of the shrub, and at its neighbors, and there they were, hundreds of them, misting ever so slightly a shade of green, and I had almost missed it because I was looking at the whole tree instead of just one branch, the place I should have been looking in the first place.

There is nothing wrong with looking at the Big Picture, the landscape of what we hope to see right now. But sometimes the closest, teeniest little detail is what gives us that larger view.

We would be remiss if we didn't pay attention, don't you think?

Give us a try at InsideOut and see if you don't see some little bit of detail that gives your life some color.