When I think of the colours of Pentecost, they are normally vibrant—reds, yellows, oranges and gold. As I painted the colours on my drawing block, reflecting on what has ignited within me this season, I noticed the empty spaces in the painting.
At first, I felt compelled to fill every area. Yet something about those untouched spaces asked me to pause. They did not feel unfinished. They felt quiet.
Not every space needs to be filled
We often assume that a meaningful life must be full: full of answers, progress, plans, activity and certainty. But growth can also happen in the places where we are still waiting, listening or becoming.
Quiet does not always mean absence. Sometimes it is the space in which something new can begin.
As I filled some areas with delicate floral glitter, they almost disappeared within the sea of brighter colours. Yet I realised that quiet beauty still has its place and purpose.
A gentler way of noticing
This experience helped me recognise that the path I walk may be gentle and subtle, yet it is still beautiful in its own way. I do not need to make every part of the journey louder in order for it to matter.
Perhaps the invitation is simply to notice: what is alive, what remains open, and what does not need to be rushed.
