Did you ever notice how glacially slow sunrise happens? If you are in on it from its first light behind the trees, it seems to take forever. Today's showing was quite unspectacular as sunrises go. I viewed it from behind the kitchen table. I had pulled the high, swivel chair around the corner of the table and tucked my feet up into the warmth of my body and waited. Today my meditation period was spent in this expectant place and it was good.
Hope doesn't have to be all warmth and soft colors. Today it came in the rhythm of peaceful regularity, as pale as the winter skin on my face and as quiet as the dogs reclined on their blankets.
It could have come in its louder fashion. Typically, if my soul is yearning in the morning for sustainence, I take it to the daily meeting at 7 am. I catch the sunrise on the fly, I head east so it feels as if I am traveling to join the cosmic sunshine. A mere 6 miles away, I pull into a parking lot of familiar cars in the early shadows, light pouring out of our meeting room windows, fragrant coffee in the air and greetings with my name in them. That sets a girl right for the day.
But, if I want change, to know God's calling, I can shift my focus, draw away from the familiar to allow some space. I never have a problem running along to the next shiny object. My task is to slow down, always. There is nothing that doesn't improve by my slowing down.
And so, I tell you in this slow moment, that is what is good about today.
3 hours ago