The Rogue Light

This is a true story—one I lived, not one I borrowed.

A few weeks ago, we decided to install landscape lighting around our home in Palm Springs. What started as a simple weekend project slowly turned into something bigger. Over time, I placed 32 programmable lights throughout the property, carefully positioning each one to highlight our landscaping. One of the features I loved most was the ability to change the colors of the lights, allowing us to decorate for different seasons, holidays, or moods.

Before burying any wires, I tested every light to make sure it worked properly. The following weekend, once everything was installed and secured, the yard looked spectacular. In the backyard, we chose to set all the hedge lights to green—clean, cohesive, calming. Satisfied with the result, I programmed the lights, took one last look, and went to bed.

The next morning, something was off.

One light—just one—had changed. While all the others glowed green, that lone light cycled through a spectrum of colors, shifting every ten seconds. I grabbed the remote, reset it to green, admired the uniform look once more, and went about my day.

That night, after sunset, I checked again.

The same light had changed back to rotating colors.

Once again, I reset it. Once again, I went to bed.

And once again, the next morning, there it was—our lone “rogue” light, proudly flashing every color it had.

As I stood there, remote in hand, deciding whether to reset it yet again, something clicked. That stubborn little light stopped feeling like a malfunction and started feeling like a metaphor.

Growing up, there were plenty of people who tried to change me—to make sure I blended in, matched expectations, stayed the same “color” as everyone else. No matter how many times I was nudged, corrected, or redirected toward the status quo, I kept returning to who I truly was. My colors always came back.

So instead of forcing that light to conform, I left it alone.

Now it stays exactly as it is—a reminder that uniqueness doesn’t ruin the picture. It enhances it. There is room for difference, for individuality, for standing out without apology. There is no reason to change something that is already beautiful.

Maybe, like me, you’ve felt like the rogue light in your community—the one that doesn’t quite match, the one others try to “fix,” the one expected to dim or blend in. If that’s you, I hope you resist that pressure. Be true to yourself. Your colors matter.

As you celebrate the holidays with your family—or your chosen family—remember this: you are special, you are enough, and you belong exactly as you are.