Unexpected Illumination: Seeing the Northern Lights Over God’s Thumb

There is a particular kind of magic that's created on the Oregon Coast at night—the kind that asks you to step into the dark with trust, to let the ocean guide you by sound alone, to feel your way forward as the world slowly wakes. I’ve walked this beach countless times in that sacred hour, wrapped in the hush of early morning, but nothing prepared me for what happened today.

I was moving along the shoreline, the sky still ink‑black, the waves breathing their steady rhythm beside me, when a strange glow appeared in the North. At first I thought it was the faintest hint of dawn arriving early. But then the color deepened—too vibrant, too alive to be morning light.

I looked above God’s Thumb, and the sky was lit up.

Ribbons of magenta and violet shimmered above the headland, rippling like silk in a celestial wind. The colors moved with a rhythm that felt ancient, as if the earth itself was exhaling light. I stood there barefoot in the sand, breath caught in my chest, watching the Northern Lights paint the sky in colors I’ve only ever seen in photographs.

Seeing the aurora has been on my bucket list for as long as I can remember. I always imagined I’d have to travel far north, chase forecasts, stay up all night in freezing temperatures. I never imagined I would simply walk into it on a quiet morning in Lincoln City, on the same beach I walk every day.

But that’s the thing about wonder—it doesn’t always wait for perfect conditions. Sometimes it just arrives, unannounced, and asks you to receive it.

It felt like the universe had cracked open just enough to let a sprinkling of magic spill through.

I didn’t move. I just stood there and let myself be awed by this beautiful sight.

A Bucket‑List Dream That Found Me

There was something profoundly humbling about stumbling upon one of my lifelong dreams without trying to chase it. It reminded me that the world is always offering us beauty, always inviting us into awe, always whispering, You are part of this too.

I felt small in the best possible way—like a single thread in a vast, shimmering tapestry.

A Moment I’ll Carry Forever

As the colors slowly faded and the sky softened toward dawn, I felt a deep gratitude settle into my bones. Not just for the Northern Lights themselves, but for the way they arrived—unexpected, unearned, perfectly timed.

A reminder that magic doesn’t always require effort. Sometimes it simply asks you to be present. Sometimes it meets you exactly where you already are.

Walking home, the first hints of sunrise warming the horizon, I kept thinking:

How many miracles do we miss because we’re looking for them somewhere else?

This morning, the universe painted the sky in magentas and purples just to remind me that wonder is never far away.

Sometimes you don’t have to chase the light. Sometimes the light finds you.