Watching the Sunrise Through a Broken Pier

Today I stood on the ocean sand watching the sunrise through the broken pier by my home.

For years now, the pier has remained split in two, battered by multiple hurricanes.

Most people look at it and see what is missing.

This morning, I found myself focused on the sun rising through the opening between the two pieces still standing.

A few months ago, the sun rose on the other side of the pier. The light never came through the break. Yet today, because the Earth has slowly tilted and turned its way through another season, the sun rose directly into that space.

The pier hadn’t changed.

The break hadn’t healed.

But the light found its way through.

It made me think about the places in our lives that feel broken. Relationships that ended. Dreams that unfolded differently than we hoped. The parts of ourselves that carry grief, disappointment, regret, or loss.

So often we focus on what is gone, what should have been different, or what still feels unresolved.

But sometimes healing doesn’t happen because the break disappears.

Sometimes it happens because the light reaches us from a different angle.

The circumstances may not change. The history may not change. But our relationship to it can.

The season shifts.

We gather support.

We survive something we weren’t sure we could survive.

And one day, almost unexpectedly, the same opening that once felt like a wound becomes a place where light can enter.

As a coach, these are the moments I find myself most curious about. Not how to force a repair. Not how to rush healing. But how perspective, time, support, and tenderness sometimes allow light to reach places we thought would remain dark forever.

A few questions I’ll leave you to ponder:

Can you think of a break in your life that once felt like a wound, but over time became a place where light could enter?

Is there a place in your life where you’ve been trying to force a repair? What might happen if you gave it a little more room to breathe?